Ever Slept With”.
The question arises, of course: why can’t she just make another one? Presumably she’s now slept with a few more people, so the work will be that much bigger and more valuable. Though apparently she claims that the 100-odd names were strictly sleeping partners, and she only ever had sex with a few of them. Just in case, you know, people might think she was some kind of slapper.
Of course the whole thing is highly suspicious. The Britart thing was/is a bubble which has been deflating for a while now, and the lost pieces are mostly garbage: a monument to the foolishness of collectors in general and Charles Saatchi in particular. So he collects on the insurance and sees his remaining few Britart pieces in the Saatchi gallery gain by becoming the definitive works of Britart (and yes, I will admit a liking for some of Damien Hirst’s stuff like his famous shark). The only problem with the compelling image of Charles Saatchi creeping through the East End with his box of matches is that it’s too bloody obvious: alas, he wouldn’t be that stupid.
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