Turner Prize isn't state of art, it's BGT for snobs

Then, while reading the paper, it all came flooding back.

I say post, but it's not exactly like Vision On, where you used to paint something on the back of a cornflake packet and send it in for submission to The Gallery.

Indeed, it seems that if painting is your thing, you haven't got a hope. Country landscapes? 'They are sooo 20th century darlink.'

What you need to come up with is an installation, which outside the trendier parts of Islington is what we call furniture. Manky old chair that's been eaten by dustmites? Just the job. An unmade bed? Odds on.

I was thinking of entering an untidy desk, complete with bulging in-trays and a bulk-purchase of chocolate bars in the top draw, which symbolises the calm order lying beneath the veneer of chaos in the modern workplace. I'm good at that sort of thing, ask my colleagues.

But these days, it seems that videos are all the rage. Maybe the judging panel has been watching Harry Hill, and its learned members have come to appreciate the artistic merit of a fat bloke's trousers falling down on a building site.

Anyway, the word is that the man to watch this year is Duncan Campbell. Now I must confess, I thought he was in UB40, you know, the one who replaced Ali. But no, he's another of these camcorder fiends, and he once made a documentary about the ill-fated motor-industry tycoon John De Lorean.

His latest work, though, is very different. Apparently, it is a long film, very long, and includes images of perfume bottles and snack packaging, plus the obligatory African masks to throw in a bit of cultural diversity. And there are a some dancers who contort themselves into the shapes of algebraic equations. As you do. They really ought to try that one on Strictly Come Dancing. Who wouldn't tune in to see Tess flexing her body into a vulgar fraction?

But let's be honest, the Turner Prize is a rubbish competition anyway. The winner only gets £25,000, a tenth of what the bloke on The Apprentice got for inventing a curved nail file.

And the runners-up get £5,000, which firmly puts it in the category of the dim people who go on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, and phone a friend because they are 'only 70 per cent certain' that Tony Blair was a former team captain on Give Us A Clue.

Also, how many people, apart from those individuals who read the arts section of the broadsheets, actually give two hoots? Quick test – who was last year's winner?

Can't remember? Don't worry, nobody else can either. For the record, it was some French bird called Laure Prouvost, who followed in the footsteps of the other great Gallic artists like Renoir and Monet, by making a video about an old man who doesn't actually exist.

Oh, and isn't it supposed to be for British artists? Well it turns out that requirement is a rather fluid beast. As long as you have spent a couple of years at East Anglia Polytechnic, you're in.

So, in brief, winning the Turner Prize is not going to make you rich, it's not going to make you famous, but it will make most people think you are a bit of an oddball.

In other words, it's Britain's Got Talent for snobs.