(far left) at BBC New Media Village (centre and above) at Tate Britain

I think of ‘King Creole’ as a giant funeral wreath ­ the sort you might see at the funeral of ‘The Don’ in a 1970’s mafia film. It is wreathed not with living flowers, but with artificial, dead blooms - King Creole is King Death.

The design is based on an original Pugin design for the House of Commons' coat of arms, as seen on the back of every penny. A voo-doo-esque version of this national icon, it refers to the buccaneering, piratical attitudes that have existed in British history, as well as the often vicious cut and thrust of ‘debate’ in the House, and of the real wars that can result. Tinsel blood stains the bottom edge of the portcullis. Plastic chrysanthemums are entwined with English roses and cannabis leaves.

'King Creole' partakes of the New Orleans and West Indian Carnival traditions which historically have commented on local and international politics. The downfall of Saddam reminded me of the death of “The Don’, and the cannabis refers to the 'Legalise it' campaign.

I want to drawn attention to the beauty of an image that is so well known that we often take it for granted - the Queen's Coat of Arms (as depicted on every passport). A British passport is still the holy grail for thousands if not millions of people around the world. In a recent newspaper article, Salman Rushdie nominated his as the most valuable book in his library. Plastic packing material is overlaid with an encrustation of cheap exotic materials. The Lions, Unicorns and Harp are almost swamped by patchwork masks and wild-eyed skulls, reflecting the shifting nature of British cultural identity and the fear these changes often evoke.

(above right and below) Veni, Vidi, Vici, 2004 214 x 244cm. Textile, plastic, artificial hair, stapled on plywood