Flu has a bad reputation, but if you think about it you’lll soon realise that the most important thing that drugs do for you is alter your state of consciousness, and influenza can do that too! Squares denounce flu as an illness, but hipsters know it’s much more productive to look on influenza as a psychic elevator and a short cut to ‘enlightenment’. You could spend a life-time sitting in the lotus position meditating and still never get ‘enlightened’; or you could catch flu and – as the fever takes a hold – unlock the secrets of the universe and learn to let go of everything (or if not everything, at the very least your lunch, either via your bowels or barfed up through the mouth).

I’ve always been rather fond of the psychogeographical device known as ‘the possible appointment’, and so I’m generally willing to make that extra bit of effort in order to fail to meet someone. Yesterday I went to Dundee where I narrowly missed hooking up with Ae Phor. To explain what happened I need to backtrack a bit. In April 1984 I met Dundee based artist Pete Horobin in London, and started to collaborate with him on various projects. As a result, from 1984 onwards I’ve visited Dundee on a fairly regular basis. I liked the city and in the eighties I’d go there to pick up used books and vinyl for a fraction of the price they’d cost me in London.

They don’t cater to bourgeoisie sensibilities. They’ll make what you do read look like a shower of shit (assuming you’re into middle-brow ‘literature’ by the likes of Julian Barnes and Philip Roth). They’re an all out attack on serious culture. They challenge the discredited beliefs of every insecure reactionary knobhead who ever sloped across this planet. They transgress all genre boundaries and as a consequence upset traditionalists. They’re not in the least bit funny if you haven’t got a sense of humour. They’re an absolute groove sensation, so they don’t appeal to squares. They wholeheartedly reject every discredited Victorian idea about ‘characterisation’ They’re chock full of sex, violence and sadism.

In August 2009, and again in August 2011, I found myself referring the games of 3-sided football staged as a part of the Alytus Biennial in Lithuania. I don’t attend many biennials, but since the one in Alytus has evolved into a jamboree of post-artistic practices – and it is also a delightfully intimate event – I’ll always make an exception for it. But let’s get back to 3-sided football. It was Asger Jorn, the Cobra artist and founding member of the Situationist International, who first came up with the idea of a football match involving three teams. However, it appears that Jorn considered it impossible to stage a real life game of 3-sided football, and so never attempted to do so.

Friday 30 September was a hot night in London and the meteorologists were already promising us that the late summer heatwave was going to produce record October temperatures. Likewise, after the August lull, the art world was back in full party/opening mode. Since I didn’t want to be running all over the city, I decided to pick one event and to screw all the other invitations I’d received. The Serpentine private view that night was bound to be mobbed, so I quickly dismissed any thoughts of going there. I decided not to go anywhere too ‘institutional’ because I wasn’t in the mood for sweaty crowds.