It's Colonel Kurtz. It's Mad Max 2. It's Robinson Crusoe. It's Burning Man. It's Samuel Beckett. It's John Bock. It's Steptoe and Son. It's genius.
It's Graham Hudson on Chelsea Parade Ground.
I knew he had been working there a few weeks and I knew he was building something. But nothing really prepared me for turning the corner and seeing...what? A house. Like something from the apocalypse. Amazing. In the middle of the parade ground. Graham has built himself a home. From old bits of wood, reclaimed windows and doors from skips, all sorts of stuff. It's a feat. I'm overwhelmed. Hudson is definitely hardcore.
'Think of it as a sculpture, not as a house,' he says, by way of warning against all the trip hazards inside. There's a staircase leading to a sort of terrace, which I can just squeeze up to through the opening at the top. There's no toilet, just a short walk to the Chelsea college toilets or even Tate Britain next door. There are umbrellas fixed to banisters and poles.
Tonight is food, drink and karaoke. Luckily for the assembled crowd (including Ed and Beth Greenacre from Rokeby, Lisa Penny, Dave Hoyland, Will Cunningham and lots of others) I have to leave before the latter. I see Graham pulling a large speaker up to the top of the stairs and onto the terrace. How fortunate that no one will get to hear my 'Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong.......'
And this won't be the last happening at Graham's work, so watch this space...