ENGINEERS WHO helped build the M25 in the 1980s will have been baffled by the event held in its name at London's Barbican Centre last week.
Billed ambitiously as a 'parallelist performance in three lane theatre', the event was ultimately a publicity exercise for author Iain Sinclair's latest book, London Orbital.
Sinclair's readings documented the motorway's contribution to bland American retail culture and its success in mobilising crime, drug and club culture in the South East.
He was joined briefly by self styled art terrorist Bill Drummond, who advocated the use of the motorway as a giant gridlocked party venue in celebration of the spring equinox.
Three screens showed continuous footage of the motorway filmed from moving vehicles using car sickness inducing hand held techniques.
Less relevant was a silver suited man with a wheel and silver chair strapped to his back, and a thrash metal band, kitted bizarrely in Amec Rail high visibility suits. The audience was also challenged to make sense of amusing, but out of place, performances by eccentric theatre director Ken Campell who mused about 'ventriloquising ferrets' and poet Bill Griffiths who spoke about catching rabbits.
Perhaps the M25 is the road to hell after all.