For the true artiste award ceremonies are bunkum. Blah blah blah.
Yeah we know.
But imagine an artist who has made his name by being anonymous. Now put him in a room with people so famous they have to be replaced by cardboard cut-outs when they go to the toilet. Yay, Banksy at the Oscars.
I love it that an Academy executive (imagine a ponytail) has said:
”The fun but disquieting scenario is that if the film wins and five guys in monkey masks come to the stage all saying, "I'm Banksy," who the hell do we give it [award] to?"
Jeez Louise, what’s not to love? I mean, many in the auditorium won't have the same faces they were born with anyway. But no, Oscar killjoys are apparently kyboshing the artist's request to show up in disguise because copycats might gate-crash the party (TICKETS anyone!?) I say there is an easy way round this:
1) Banksy gets in without doing any press (no-one knows what he looks like, right?)
2) Banksy mingles, everyone assumes he is an accountant with Price Water House Cooper or worse, a writer.
3) *When the nomination shot happens, BANG, all nominees have latex masks of Tom Cruise on.
4) Banksy wins, “Thank you, this is for Bristol, Yarp”
Be better than Mission Impossible 4 that.
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