I quite see why the director of the BM accepted Perry's proposal for this wretched little show.

Boyishly provocative, aesthetically levelling, too clever by half and ultimately shallow, the reasoning was that with Perry's name, face and persona attached to it, thousands of loyal Perry fans will become fans too of the British Museum.

How naive - exhibitions of Hirst and Freud made no new friends for the Wallace Collection, and they were not held in such derision. Perry is not a man of scholarship, nor of credibility, and neither informs this puerile, silly and self-aggrandising show. Everything is subordinate to Perry's work; the largest exhibit is his, the exhibition's feeble climax is his, and his pots will rise substantially in price now that they have been exhibited in the British Museum. If the director was too unworldly, the trustees should have recognised the commercial implications of Perry's impertinent proposal - dealers in his pots are certainly rubbing their hands with glee, while the rest of us must pay £10 to see these pointless juxtapositions of Perry's current stock in trade with BM property. Was he paid a fee for his curatorial services and for writing the embarrassing nonsense of the catalogue?

"Do not," he writes in it, "look too hard for meaning here." Do not look at all.