The gremlins stormed the gallery, unholstered their squirtycream cans and set about creating their own unique brand of art.
'Hang about,' said a particularly skinny gremlin called Mudj, as he narrowly avoided stumbling headlong into an enormous cowpat in the middle of the room. 'What's this?'
'It's human art,' said a gremlin called Snyff, as he defaced a Pollock. 'Therefore it's crap.'
'It is crap,' said Mudj, extracting a small, wire-framed pair of spectacles from the top pocket of his smock; 'but I like it.'
Mudj put his hand on his chin and thoughtfully examined the piece...
Social Degradation, it said; by Kristof NÃ¼llfhart.
'Hmm,' said Mudj...
...at which one of his fellows dropped from somewhere above and landed, with a resounding !splat!, squarely in the centre of the bovine masterpiece.
'Now that,' said Mudj, as he pulled out his squirtycream can and started making the perplexed-looking gremlin into the sponge in a cowpat trifle; 'is art!'