Snooker and Damien Hirst

I, for one, was rather surprised by Ronnie's defeat in the Snooker Premier League to up-comer Judd Trump. He doesn't look particularly comfortable around the table at the moment. Insisting on using his left hand to break off every time gives away a weakness in his cuing - he's not straight, and his long game suffers. Warning bells should have rung when he shaved his head again, echoing the dark days of recent years, but he seems content enough, enjoying the game. The match was played on the 5th, so , weirdly, you could hear my bemissed fireworks screeching away in the distance. I was similarly taken aback to see the queer of darkness in the audience. Nope, not Bono, but close. Just as I thought to myself, Who the fuck is that misguided tosser sat indoors wearing his mother's cataract glasses?, the match commentators directed our attention to a certain Damien Hirst sat in the audience, watching his "good friend", Ronnie. Reportedly, he's just sold off a section of works, netting him a cool £100 million in the process. A girl was telling me recently about the Mexican celebrations that take place during El Día de los Muertos, or the Day of the Dead, from which Hirst's piece, For the Love of God, was supposedly inspired. Thankfully, she had no idea who he was, so I was very glad to learn that his renown does not extend as far as he may like to think.