Tracey Emin (or Ermine, the incongruence splits my sides) is a supposed artist, her art being the remnants of a bizarre and perverse life. Her negligible artistry and vile, slack-jawed London accent do nothing to relieve the tedium that is her face. Many are the times that Tracey, laying immobile, has been swept up by roadsweepers mistaking her for a dead badger. Her art - if it must be called such - is "situationalist", which basically means she can't draw or paint. Or write poetry. The artwork however does have value, contemporary art can be many things... *cough* Banksy *cough*