Legends from our own lunchtimes

Thursday, April 03, 2008

Wanting to help

I've stolen the picture today from Banksy who's got plenty more, and was only going to put it on a wall somewhere anyway. It's a sketch for something he'll do in due course, and he's making a point I've often pondered while visiting countries where the cost of my airfare to get there would keep a family alive for half a decade.

I know that Banksy and I aren't the only ones with these impossible ponderings. I sat next to a bloke in a meeting the other day, who seemed like a nice enough sort of chap, he was certainly outwardly concerned for the well being of his fellow man.

His build perhaps once would have been described as "portly", but in this era of political correctness it is suffice to say it had been a while since he'd missed a meal.

He seemed to be the sort of person living a comfortable suburban existence.

He wore jewelry. Nothing too expensive, the sort of thing that gets imported from India or Indonesia and sold in the flea markets: a few silver chains, a couple of bangles, and a ring or three. The chains were heavy too, not the enormously heavy sort that you'd expect to see on a grossly tattooed heavyweight rap star, but politely heavy. Just heavy enough so that they were obvious, but not so heavy that they were garish although had they been of gold they certainly would have been quite over the top.

Sitting comfortably amid the metalwork, was a simple beige plastic band of the type sold by charity organisations to raise funds for all sorts of causes. They are also sold by surf shops to raise funds for shareholders, but that's not the point.

Inscribed on this band were the simple words"


I wondered if he felt the best way to do that, was to buy lots of stuff made in the jewellery sweatshops of developing countries, or was the thirty cent markup on the plastic band enough?


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