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Tracey Emin's light sculpture, Windrush and Chanel's invisible hat

Buzzz, buzzz, buzzz. This reporter dashes in looking wild haired and distinctly frazzled. "Meet me at St Pancras Station at midday under the great big clock," she gasps before swiftly exiting, pursued by a swarm of wasps.

"I want my time with you", declares artist Tracey Emin's neon pink light sculpture, which has sprawled itself across a wall of London's St Pancras station, just in front of Paul Day's bronze statue of two lovers embracing and the large Dent clock.

Emin's latest alternative art offering is meant to be a love letter to Europe as we head towards Brexit. This reporter argues the emblazonment of such a message couldn't have come at a more poignant time, as we witness the devastating treatment of the Windrush generation at the hands of Prime Minister Theresa May and her government.

To give some background, a significant number of UK residents descending from Commonwealth countries face the threat of deportation, have lost their jobs and homes or have been refused urgently needed NHS medical treatment because they are now considered illegal immigrants under a change in the law.

Many of the Windrush generation were only children when they came over to Britain 50 years ago. As a result, they travelled on their parents' passports and were never formally registered as British citizens. The law change means that despite living all their memorable lives in this country and giving so much to it, they are at risk of falling through the legislative cracks.

Mrs May, caught out in her cruelty as she yet again fails to attach a living, breathing person with feelings to her policy making, has tried to claim this has all resulted from a bureaucratic oversight rather than an intentional law change back in 2013 aimed at expelling all those people, in this reporter's words, deemed "not quite British enough".

In his recent column, comedian and writer David Mitchell talks, rather surprising, about make-up, and more specifically, about its categorisation. In his 'expert' view, he believes it can be divided into two groups much like, in his words, diabetes.

Type one is the undetectable, or supposedly naturally occurring. Your tinted moisturisers, your concealers, your plastic surgery. Type two defines all those things "you've clearly done to yourself" - lipstick, nail varnish, eyeshadow.

Mr Mitchell quite rightly states you are fine to comment on all those things in the type two category, for example "nice lipstick". But you must never comment on anything in type one, in the manner of "ooh nice surgery" because - remember - you absolutely can't see it. We'll come back to this in une memento.

This reporter realises she must explain her curious behaviour at the top of the page. You see, this reporter has been trying out the latest trend - the sugar spray, which is just like the salt spray from times of yore -  aimed at giving the user's hair beach like waves - but without the tell-tale crispiness. The ultimate, in Mr Michell's terms, in type one diabetes. The only problem, as this reporter has found out first hand, is whilst the naked human eye 'cannot' detect it, wasps certainly can.

Similar to this is the new wide-brimmed rain hat offering from Chanel. This reporter is convinced this hat is intended to be undetectable, hence why it is made out of see-through plastic. We are meant to believe those who wear it simply have magic rain-repelling hair.

Unfortunately Chanel has made the same mistake as Mrs May has over her immigration policy.  Whilst thinking it has pulled off the ultimate in type one diabetes, we can all see it for what it is, a glaring neon sign of a type two strain, requiring an urgent shot of insulin.

Buzzz, buzzz, buzzz. This reporter's going to have to make another hasty exit. "See you tomorrow-ow-ow".






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