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Liv Fontaine hatched from a large and ornate Faberge egg somewhere in the later part of the 21st Century. The mysterious artist (who some call an eneggma) describes her unusual birth as her first memory and what subsequently inspired her pursuit of a career in the arts.

Fontaine showed exceptional talent at an early age. As a toddler critic’s compared her performance- style to Sid Vicious and Rod Stewart. Unfortunately, the constant pressures of fame and expectation of production led her to become just another art victim. No stranger to controversy, at age 17 she was quoted as saying – ‘Life here in Southampton is shite and the cruise ship pollution is fucking killing us, I am moving to France.’ It is not known how long she spent living in France or if in fact she ever made it across the Channel, but her next public appearance in 2016, went down in performance art history. Dressed like a banana and now an anorexic, an alcoholic, a finance professional and a trained fire warden, Fontaine felt she had nothing left to lose. This performance can now no longer be described in print or online for legal reasons. This did, however, kickstart Fontaine’s career again. Famous for being a self-saboteur only comparable to ex-royal Sarah Ferguson, she became the cautionary tale liberal art audiences were desperate for – the entertainment of a woman on the edge of a severe mental breakdown. An interesting story to tell other liberals over a Sunday night charcuterie complimented by fine wines from Austria. For them, she was the perfect victim.

Fast forward to 2017: audiences began to tire of Fontaine’s vulgarity. The social trend was now to get married, have a child or a small dog, become vegan and stop drinking. In the middle of one particular explicit on-stage routine, a young, clean and active looking man shouted ‘Get off the stage Bucket Fanny, no one wants to hear you screaming about knobbing every man on the crescent anymore’ … This was a pinnacle moment in the career of Fontaine – who had to be forcefully removed from the venue which was the overpriced and satanic eatery ‘Bills’, she could be heard shouting for a prolonged period afterward – ‘You fucking loved it when I was screaming about shaking babies, you clownfooted sanctimonious twat’. Once again, she found herself in the gutter with few friends and even fewer fans.

Fast forward to 2018: Fontaine had not been seen performing for some time. Rumors went round that she had retrained as a mechanic, developed a suspicious and crippling illness, fallen in love with a man not twice but thrice her age and developed an avid interest in reptiles. In part all of these rumors were true. The once celebrated performance artist had tired of being broke, a joke and a victim. Confused by the notion she herself had promoted throughout her career – that a performers body is public property, she faded into obscurity. Unconfirmed sightings in Southampton described the artist as introducing herself to strangers as Viv Insane, wearing a smart/causal 3-piece corduroy suit, speaking in a thick Welsh accent and behaving sexually inappropriately on the towns park and ride bus service. It’s reported that during this time the artist was involved in an altercation with a snapping turtle not meant for captive breeding. This near-death experience was the wakeup call Fontaine needed, taking inspiration from come-back queen Craig David and the relaunch of the retro Cadburys snack: the ‘Whispa’ bar, Fontaine begun a journey of enlightened reinvention.

Fast forward to the present day: Hello world.

Please note the author of this biography wishes to remain anonymous. They also wish for the reader to know that although they respect Liv Fontaine as a professional they actively dislike her on a personal level.

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