Whatever you think of Damien Hirst's art you have to admire the man's brass neck (and balls) for cutting out the dealers and taking his wares direct to the paying public. The middle-men must be cursing him all sorts of colours. Seeing them squirm is worth every penny of the publicity stunt. Apparently Hirst is now 'painting pictures', something he's never done before. I can hear the knives being sharpened already.