"You see, Roger Casement was very found of animals, very found of them indeed. One day, when he was about 11, as he was walking the streets of Dun Laoghaire, or Kingstown as it was known then, he noticed a poor shivering little seagull on the footpath, a wee seagull nestling that had fallen from the nest. He knew it would soon die without its mother's milk so he carefully put it inside his flannel shirt to keep it warm and he took it upon himself to feed the baby seagull, with a tiny bottle fitted with a tiny tiny little rubber teat that would fit in the tiny seagull's beak, 8 times a day. And three times during the night. And as the baby seagull suckled from the bottle, lovingly nestled against the warm and soft child's breast, it was convinced that Roger was its mother. The boy and the gull were inseparable for many years. And that's why the sculptor opted to represent Roger Casement with his pet seagull shitting on his head. God, it is incredible how art can imitate life. You'd almost expect Roger to walk off his plinth there, bored to death from standing on the spot, with sweet fuckall to do, with his back to the sea. And the seagull almost looks alive. And the poo, my oh my the poo is the real tour de force. You'd swear it's the real deal."
* AKA the Man Who Knows His Shit