With George Fickling 

FFA- Tell us about yourself and your practice.

G- Handsome, virile young man, I’m a chancer,

I’m a hustler; pool, poker and pussy,

See, baby Jesus is unsavoury,

All my dosh on a penis enlarger.


Take my twelve to grouse trapped in greenhouses,

I’m still into planking, going viral,

Decapitated on the lake in style,

The blue frogs and powders that arouse us.


Drink all my meals in the form of milkshakes,

Macho macho man, macho macho man,

Most always spinning in my waterbed.


Chocolate cakes, cream cakes and urinal cakes,

Your mother can, yes your mother can can,

A penny in the well, wish I were dead.




FFA- How did you get into art?

G- One leg at a time, g-string on backwards,

Suffocated by fat lass on my face,

In love with Charizards red hot embrace,

Ribbons, accolades, cold hard cash, awards.


Other way round, it entered me softly,

The proverbial slippery sausage,

Lubed up to the hilt, entered my storage,

It emptied load after load, ungodly.


More oil than the Gulf of Mexico,

Taped up, taped off, tape off, scrub the birds off,

Johnson and Johnson, lather up, no more tears.


Treading a fine line between stop and go,

Can you put up with my persistent cough?

Huff and puff and struggle to climb the stairs.


FFA- How would you describe yourself in 3 words?

G- Sexy and free.


FFA- Your social media presence is full of personality! How do you use social media to define yourself and build your personal brand?

G- I’m an exceptional group of people,

Looking to implement ideas, big ones,

Scale faster and grow longer, fuck some nuns,

Sensory to sensational steeple.


I’m over boarding and overhauling,

What’s the point, rocking an overturned boat?

Better goatee and more horn than a goat.

Like a toddler, can’t walk and still drooling.


Better stories than Edgar Allen Poe,

Rise and grind, go hard or go home alone,

Tell me why don’t witches wear underpants.


I’m red lion, you’re a green gazelle, go,

Prayer xp through the roof, burying bone,

I say dancing is sinful, I do dance.



FFA- Who/ What inspires you?

G- Dew drops on grass and imposing buildings,

A big old spliff and my dominatrix,

Ryan’s colouring book, eat Weetabix,

I love George Ezra when he strums and sings.


A prostate massage on Sunday morning,

Dog porn, fog horns, dead fish and dirty dish,

Women’s lingerie, it feels so delish,

A tropical bird with a severed wing.


Hiking boots and suit it’s a trailblazer,

A four-slice toaster in the bubble bath,

A trip to big Tesco, sad man’s meal deal.


Down on one knee, serial engager,

Sitting at my walnut desk sacking staff,

And slapping my own bum until I squeal.


FFA- You top 3 art Instagram’s to follow for inspiration? 

G- @george_ezra




FFA- What does a typical day in your life look like?

G- I struggle to get out of my coffin,

Why bother with it, sat in red satin,

I rock n roll out and let the cat in,

50 fags, 11 o’clock, coughin’.


Creatine, pre-workout and protein shake,

Furious self-abuse, clean up, weeping,

Boil the kettle, put my bag in, steeping,

The only way to stop me is a stake.


Fly through the garden clutching chemicals,

On a Friday down a bottle of red,

Red stained lips from a tasty pinotage.


Try and sort out my academicals,

I do some loving gymnastics instead,

And a quick sprint to the Esso garage.


FFA- What is your opinion on virtual reality and its growth in the art world?

G- I’m a luddite, booted my computer,

An immersive VR experience:

Feeling all-encompassing weariness,

Hot lead in the head from a sharpshooter.


You now live with a bullet in the brain,

It affects your ability to flirt,

Now you have to live without chasing skirt,

Die alone in VR, IRL again.


It is like turmeric in Tupperware,

Bit like an inoperable tumour,

No point avoiding unavoidable.


Uncontrollable crying and despair,

The physical is dead, lets entomb her,

Everything is dead, nothing enjoyable.


How do you see the future of art?


Glass of red and white, cocaine on spaceships,

Expensive floating sculptures, floating frames,

Come crashing down to earth in ball of flames,

Smouldering crater on Las Vegas strip.


Using antigravity oil paint,

And remote-controlled rocket fuelled brushes,

Artificial intelligence art rush,

Automatic saint, minimal restraint.


Limited, hand signed run of shitty memes,

Richie Culver on every street corner,

Could have spent 9 grand a year much wiser.


Don’t do nowt by halves, take it to extremes,

Consider making my mum a mourner,

Fuck it, I’ll start snorting tranquiliser.


FFA- And finally what’s your motivation? Where would you like to be in 5 years?

G- Struggling with mental health and dental health,

Keep adding to a long list of despair,

Stressing over losing a lot of hair,

I’m squandering my family’s hoarded wealth.


Talk Talk’s ‘Its My Life’ but about myself,

Will you dress me in collar and ball-gag?

Lead me ‘round London, Kings Cross to Southwark,

Name on my mind since I’ve been on the shelf.


5 divorces and 3 illegit kids,

Chemical dependency and flat broke,

Slinging solar panels from call centre,


Obscene tattoos on my tired eyelids,

Life ain’t nowt but a cruel practical joke,

Either tormented or the tormentor.