The last Sunday in November was one such day and I felt an irresistible urge to climb into my trustee Montego and seek out the wonders that can be experienced at the Tate Gallery in London. It has been quite a while since I last visited the Tate. In fact, the last time was when I went to have a bloody good laugh at Damien Hirst's chain-sawed cows and miscellaneous road-kills.

Once again, the Turner Prize exhibition is upon us and I have to say that it's usually better than any episode of the Fast Show when it comes to raising a laugh. However, this year, I have to report that it didn't even raise a smile. Basically, modern art can be classed in one of two categories: Firstly, crap that is so bad it's accidentally hysterical and secondly, crap that is just so crap that it isn't even funny.

This year's Turner Prize nominees unfortunately fall directly into category number two (quite literally). The only two things that almost reached comedy status were the white room packed full of charcoal and the film of someone getting undressed, played backwards. Watching people trying to take such exhibitions seriously has got to be in my top five 'people-watching' scenarios. To listen in on the conversations that take placeis truly magical.

'Such form, such content'. 'A masterpiece of visual interpretation', etc. Currently at the Tate, there is also an exhibition of Pre-Raphaelite artists as well as the usual, ever changing, general displays of paintings and sculpture.These are the parts of the gallery which are truly divine and most definitely worth a visit.

My all time hero, Roy Lichtenstein, is also represented by some of his later work. Looking at the Turner Prize exhibition, it makes me wonder when society sacrificed pure talent for the sake of modernity.

P.S. I can't help it if this article makes me sound like a git!