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For more on marking an answer as the "Best Answer", please visit our FAQ.// A Metropolitan police officer who saw the Derrick Santini image from a bus was alarmed.
He alerted his colleagues and two uniformed officers went to the gallery, which is owned by the Rolling Stones guitarist Ronnie Wood’s sons, Tyrone and Jamie.
Jag Mehta, the sales director at the gallery, said she spoke to the officers and asked what the problem was.
“They said the photograph suggested we condoned bestiality, which was an arrestable offence,” she said.
“They stood there and didn’t leave until we took the piece down.” //
http://www.telegraph....bestiality-fears.html
He alerted his colleagues and two uniformed officers went to the gallery, which is owned by the Rolling Stones guitarist Ronnie Wood’s sons, Tyrone and Jamie.
Jag Mehta, the sales director at the gallery, said she spoke to the officers and asked what the problem was.
“They said the photograph suggested we condoned bestiality, which was an arrestable offence,” she said.
“They stood there and didn’t leave until we took the piece down.” //
http://www.telegraph....bestiality-fears.html
It seems that although they're cutting police funding, they're not doing it in the right places.
A bit of Yeats for everyone:
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?
A bit of Yeats for everyone:
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?
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