Yesterday, London voted to decide who would be its Mayor for the next four years. Keen to join in this carnival of democracy, we put out a call to let Londoners know that, for one day only, the Gross Jar would be crawling out of its horrible dungeon to meet and greet its public at City Hall, where the Mayor of London lives. We also let you know that you could add your own deposits to the Jar if you so wished, as if it were a gross ballot box, or simply a repository for the most abominable fragrances to ever torment mankind.
There are probably those among you who are yet to be initiated into the Gross Jar's disgusting cult. So Imma quickly fill you in on what has been festering away in that thing for the past month or so:
Week one was human piss, shit, vomit, phlegm, rotten veg and drain hair. Week two saw the inclusion of santorum. For the third instalment, we added fish heads, lamb intestines and chicken feet to address the lack of animals in the jar. And last week, we introduced durian, or “stink fruit”, an Asian fruit that is banned on public transport due to its smell, and casually tossed in some human teeth we'd liberated from a morally lax Greek dentist while we were at it.
The stench; the abhorrent, soul-scratching odour that emanates from the jar has roused vomit from the author's shocked stomach on more than one occasion.
Anyway, we headed down to City Hall with our VERY thoroughly disinfected Jar of slop. As luck would have it, upon exiting London Bridge station we had the good fortune to run into mayoral candidate Ken Livingstone! We ran to catch up with him.
“What's that you've got there?” Ken asked inquisitively. But before we could answer his question, one of his press lackeys charged in and started flapping at us. “What is it? What is it? WHAT IS IT?!” he squealed, then they both disappeared in a cloud of insufficient-press-credentials-to-make-this-a-worthwhile-activity dust.
Dejected, but not willing to be beaten just yet, we proceeded to City Hall for our date with the gross electorate. It was the Jar's first time in public, so we decided to treat it to a bit of sightseeing along the way.
Here's the Jar, peering quizzically at Tower Bridge...
And here she is in paroxysms of glee, beholding the Tower of London...
And staring at the big boat from Northern Ireland wondering what it's doing on a river.
Eventually, the Gross Jar got the chance to lurk in the shadows of City Hall itself. We'd finally made it! We were at the Mayor's house!
We hung around for a while with the jar, but after about an hour, and a few begging tweets from the author, still no one had turned up to contribute to stinky democracy.
We decided to lance the boil of voter apathy. It was time to take the Jar on its own shitty campaign trail.
What do you make of this?
"It looks like a chicken curry."
And with the lid off?
How about you, Miss? Lid on?
"Oh God, it looks like potato and gizzards. Is that teeth? Oh, yuck!"
"Jesus. Smells like vomit."
"Why are there potatoes? Is that... skin?"
Do you think the Gross Jar represents any of the mayoral candidates in any way?
“I don’t think it can represent any kind of human being, really."
Lid on? "I don't know, it looks like brains. Croquettes?"
"Arrrrrrgh!" [it's difficult to really relay the sadness in the noise she made]
How about you, mate?
"That's fucking disgusting."
So, the Gross Jar enjoyed its first public outing. Sadly, no one thought that they'd want it to represent them in the democratic process. I guess if the Gross Jar's going to clamber its way up the political ladder, it's gonna have to revert type and do it by sheer, repulsive force, and blossom into a terrifying despot of stench.
Check back soon for more Gross Jar 2012 updates!