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JEFF LEACH INTERVIEW // TIM JONZE SEX SOUNDS // IS PORN THE NORM? // VERNON FRANCOIS


CALM

CONTENTS

Sex. Sexy sex. Business time. Shagging, boning, humping, banging. Dancing the horizontal tango. Playing ‘hide the salami’ (yeah, you heard me). Call it what you like, we’re all either doing it, talking about it, thinking about it, looking at people doing it or wishing we were at it. It’s what keeps the human race sprinting forward, foolhardily, into the unknown and, along with death and taxes, it’s one of the only constants in life. However, it’s not always an easy ride, if you’ll excuse the pun, and can get messy and confusing from time to time (least of all when the lights are off and you’ve had one too many jagarbombs). Sex and sexuality is at the forefront of our carnal, ape-like minds at least 110% of the time, so whether you’re gay, straight, bi or not even sure yet, we’re all in this together - let’s talk about sex, baby.

MANifesto ..................................................... 5. Sex Sounds with Tim Jonze ........................6. Fashion ......................................................... 8. Inner Life ...................................................... 10. Benders like Beckham ................................. 12. CALMzine interview:Jeff Leach ...................14. Is Porn The Norm? ....................................... 19. Art Show: Katar ........................................... 22. CALM Competition ........................................ 25. Frazzled Daddy ............................................ 26. What Woman Really Want ...........................27. Vernon Francois ............................................30. Dear Josh .....................................................34.

GREETINGS.

In this issue we have comedian Jeff Leach coming clean about his sex addiction, The Guardian’s Tim Jonze talking sex and music, Stylist Vernon Francois opens up about the gay life and Mister Mumbles tackles homophobia in football. Plus our regular columnist Drew Gepp gets stuck into some porn, as well as a Frazzled Daddy Sex Special. And let’s not forget our very own Dear Josh, doling out the agony uncle good vibes to anyone who’ll listen. I don’t know about you, but I’m turned on just thinking about it…

CREDITS Editor: Rachel Clare Original Design: Joey Graham Deputy Editor: Lindsey Bezzina Creative Director: Phil Levine Cover Art: Katar Fashion Photography: Daniel Regan Photographic Assistant: Kathryn Prescott Distribution Manager: Dan Taylor CALM Charity Director: Jane Powell Contributors: Tim Jonze, Helen Bownass, Vernon Francois, Mister Mumbles, Chris Owen, Matt Brown, Daniel Regan, Michael Schroeder, Drew Gepp, Joshua

WWW.THECALMZONE.NET Charity reg no. 1110621

Idehen, Majestic, Damon Briggs, Joe Bruce, Paul Marsh. Thanks to Topman for their support.

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Contact: lindseybezzina@thecalmzone.net

CALMzine is the first port of call for all your manspiration needs. We all have issues, so what do you want to talk about? Who do you want us to talk to? We want to hear from YOU. Email us your ideas and views at editor@thecalmzone.net If you want the hard stuff, go to the CALM website: www.thecalmzone.net or follow us on twitter @CALMzine

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t was as a virginal teenager (sadly, I never experienced being any other type of teenager) that I first came across a magazine feature on the “sexiest records of all time”. The piece instructed me to go listen to Tim Buckley’s Greetings From LA, apparently the final word in the soundtracking of sweatdrenched bedroom action. So I did, because back then I used to do whatever music magazines told me to do (see also: pretending to enjoy Terris). Greetings From LA may well have been one of the sexiest records ever made, but as I really wouldn’t have known I just felt daft listening to it. “Like a bitch dog in heat mama we had those bed springs squeaking all night long,” wailed Buckley on Get On Top. That’s no way to speak of a lady, I’d think. And as for the squeaking bedsprings – hadn’t Buckley heard of Tempur Memory Foam? Would sort that problem out straight away. Perhaps it’s a hangover from this, but I’ve rarely been able to take sex in music seriously, at least not lyrically. I’m well aware that sex is the foundation for pretty much all-popular music, of course – from Elvis thrusting his

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crotch to the bump’n’grind of R&B. But often any sexcrazed words, to paraphrase the once-celibate Morrissey, say nothing to me about my life. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing considering some of the ways in which artists have covered carnal action. I like to consider myself something of a romantic, and so it’s perhaps for the best that I’ve never made my moves in a manner similar to, say, Notorious B.I.G who once rapped on One More Chance: “When it comes to sex, I’m similar to the thriller in Manilla/People call me Biggie, the condom filler.” In case any ladies were feeling up for a night of passion after hearing it compared to a legendarily grueling boxing match, Biggie made sure any lingering subtlety was extinguished: “Hit you with the dick, make your kidney’s shift.” The image of someone romantically rearranging their partner’s internal organs may have comic potential but it’s hardly a mature take on the subject. So who does get it right when it comes to sex? A search of some recent

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lists of the sexiest songs of all time upturns more questions than answers.

DOES ANYONE REALLY GET TURNED ON BY BOYZ II MEN’S I’LL MAKE LOVE TO YOU? OR MADONNA’S LIKE A VIRGIN? OR, WORSE STILL, ROD STEWART’S D’YA THINK I’M SEXY? Maybe they do and it’s me who’s the odd one here. Maybe it’s all about matching your personality – and your personal experience - to the right music and mine bears little similarity to something as confidently seductive as, say, Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On. It would certainly explain how I ended up writing about Dexys Midnight Runners Come On Eileen and Big Star’s Kangaroo for the Guardian’s own exhaustive list of sex songs in 2009. Both of those songs conjure up a very teenage feeling of pent-up lust. The latter is a truly weird song, collapsing in on itself and containing the line “Ooh I want you like a kangaroo” which, let’s face it, makes no sense at all. Yet it contains

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a feeling and the song’s central image – of watching, and wanting, someone from afar at a party – carries a strong emotional tug. Writing about the emotions around sex rather than sex itself is what Carole King did so brilliantly with Will You Love Me Tomorrow, a song that covered the emotional fall-out after a one-night stand. Yes sex was the central action in the song, but really the song is about the coldness and confusion of the morning after. Judging from the kind of sex songs I’m drawn to – ones of unrequited lust and confusion – I can only conclude that I prefer my pop to serve sex through the music itself – the flirtatious rumble of a bassline or the suggestive wink of a syncopated drumbeat. Anything more explicit just becomes a turn off. If evidence were needed then let’s return to Tim Buckley’s Get On Top. Find it on YouTube and the top comment says simply: “His music gets my wife in the mood every time I play it :)”. In the words of the Magnetic Fields songsmith Stephin Merritt: How fucking romantic.

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inner life:

No More Pretending Words by Michael Schroeder

“I’m having a heart attack,” I think. It started in the gym pool. Doing a gentle breaststroke, my heart started to beat irregularly, missing beats, then beating harder. I wasn’t too worried, it was just odd. I climbed out and sat on the side, trying to stay calm. But my heart kept pounding. I was worried.

I walked to the showers, trying not to let my fear overtake me, but my heart continued to thud in my chest. Then I felt the blood leave my extremities, and a weird tightening sensation in my groin. “Oh shit, shit, shit,” I thought. Something truly horrible is about to happen. I moved quickly into the changing rooms and announce to a room full of half-naked men what’s happening so that when the paramedics arrive, they’ll know I’ve had a heart attack. Then, sat with my head between my knees, talking to a huddle of concerned blokes, my heart slows and my breathing starts to return to normal. Not a heart attack, then. A panic attack. For months I’d been trying to hold it together, denying to myself that my marriage of two years was sliding to destruction, but my body

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knew better and finally the stress needle went into the red and my heart overloaded. It was the reaction of a cornered animal facing something too big to tackle. A month of couple’s counselling soon after only confirmed what Karen and I already knew: that despite buying a house and spending years doing it up, despite our recent marriage, we must separate. Growing up, my dad was an angry man who would explode with little provocation. Our mother was our only source of love and stability. I’ve come to realise that as a result, I’ve always gone out of my way to please the significant woman in my life, at some level fearing a catastrophic loss of affection if I failed to do so. This key characteristic of mine contributed to the implosion of my marriage because I always suppressed my own wants and needs in favour of my wife’s. I pretended to be what I thought she wanted. And I pretended so completely that, in the end, I had no idea I was even pretending. All I knew was that I had lost all of my initiative but didn’t know why. The problem was compounded by the fact that Karen was headstrong, super confident and always wanted her own way. She was also doing well at work – bringing home twice the bacon

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I did – very hungry for success. I’m an editor at an acclaimed magazine and I earn a decent enough salary doing what I love. But for her, work was about money, pure and simple. She saw my job as a poorly paid trap, an obstacle between her and a bigger house. I knew she wanted more from me, so I convinced myself I wanted to be a lawyer, and even studied law for two years on top of my day job to move in that direction. In the meantime, Karen supplied the lion’s share of our income, giving me yet another “justification” to defer to her instead of standing up for myself. I ended up crushed by a relationship in which I was trying to please a woman whose values I did not share.

really mate, no.” I sob while Jon waits, before expressing my core, raw emotion. “I feel like I’m not a man. I don’t know what to do.” That was the sound of me hitting rock bottom: my heart had already gone and this was my mind’s turn. I felt utterly hopeless. That was a year ago. Today, I’m a freshly divorced man looking back at that very low point if not from high ground, then at least from a very decent middle ground. I’m a work in progress, but I’ve largely pieced my self-esteem back together. I’m still in the job I love, I’ve met an incredible girl who loves me for who I am and who also happens to be a fox. We are both feeling our way cautiously, both having past hurts to process. But I feel like a full-grown man again, and a happy man at that because I’ve learned that only by being myself can I have self respect and that what any girl worth her salt wants in a man is for that man to know who he is. No more pretending.

SAT WITH MY HEAD BETWEEN MY KNEES, TALKING TO A HUDDLE OF CONCERNED BLOKES, MY HEART SLOWS AND MY BREATHING STARTS TO RETURN TO NORMAL. NOT A HEART ATTACK, THEN. A PANIC ATTACK.

A month after my panic attack, Karen had moved in with friends whilst I looked for a new place to live. Walking home to the empty house, a week after her departure, I took out my phone, fighting the tears, and call up my best man, Jon. “Mate,” I managed, then choked. “Mike, are you OK?” Jon asked. “Not,

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“Cor blimey, look at that!” I thought as I stared long and hard at Sir Davey Beckham’s bulge in that advert for pants. As I gawped, my eyes moved up and away from his goldenballs and I swear to Rod (Rod Stewart is something of a god to me, see) Sir Dave winked at me. I gazed deep into his dark inky peepers, and my legs instantly turned to neat vodka jelly. At that point, I started to see what Posh Spice must have seen in him and as I turned away, I wasn’t in my flat anymore. I was standing smack dab in the middle of a floodlit Wembley Stadium, at midnight. And beside me? Dave! “Mister Mumbles?” asked Sir Dave. “The one and the same” I replied with a lilt that wouldn’t have been out of place at a conference for people with lilting voices who love gargling Lilt. He beamed from one cheek to t’other. Then he told me what I was to do: “Discover why there is a distinct lack of gays in the beautiful game.” Suddenly, Sir Dave’s brilliant white truncheon holders began to crumple about the edges. As the scene collapsed in upon itself, I could hear his last words ringing in my ears. “P.S. There’s a programme on the telly about it next week...BBC3...don’t miss it, arsehole!” And with that, he was gone. So, why are there no openly gay footballers? It’s not as if there haven’t ever been any openly gay footballers. There’s the whole Justin Fashanu tragedy for a start but there’s nowt to say about that that ain’t been said a hundred times over. Instead, let’s part the mists of time and peer back to 2008, when ex-Prem player Paul Elliot estimated there were at least a dozen homosexual footballers in the league terrified of coming out for fear of the repercussions. And then let’s lap at the perineum of 2009, when a report by lobby group Stonewall found 75% of fans thought there were gay players in the Premier League. 12

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IN 2010 THE FA LOOKED TO THE STARS OF THE PREMIERSHIP TO SPEAK OUT AGAINST ANTI-GAY CHANTING ON THE TERRACES... THE PROJECT RAN AGROUND WHEN THEY COULDN’T FIND A SINGLE PLAYER WILLING TO GET INVOLVED Perhaps more worryingly, the same report stated that more than one in four fans considered professional football ‘anti-gay’ and 70% who had attended a game in the last five years had heard homophobic language on the terraces. Yikes. Back in the here ‘n now, homo-hate is still rife. Scores of Brighton & Hove Albion fans were recently subjected to homophobic abuse on Twitter, at the tweety fingertips of a handful of malicious Newcastle United followers. After being drawn against the Toon in the FA Cup, Albion fans were informed in no uncertain terms that they lived in an “Aids infested town” along with some other stuff about botty banditry and KY Jelly. And this is just the tiny tip of a much larger iceberg lettuce that floats in soccer’s soup tureen. But who’s stirring this pot of anti-bummer broth? And who’s surreptitiously adding extra bay leaves? Is it fans who consider themselves “real men” because they like to kiss girls? The grumpy old boys who sit in the boardrooms? It surely can’t be the metrosexual players with their lovely smooth faces and cheeky chappy banter, can it? Hmm. In 2010 the FA looked to the stars of the Premiership to speak out against anti-gay chanting on the terraces. They were going to make a video, you see. However, before the cameras could even start rolling, the project ran aground when they couldn’t find a single player willing to get involved (don’t forget, there was no Joey Barton in those days). As a result, the FA shelved postponed the film – which says a lot about the type of deep-seated homophobia that still exists within the world’s richest and most watched football league. Heaven knows what it must be like for the poor buggers in the Vauxhall Conference. But you know what? It’s not all sad faced emoticons with little apostrophes for tears. The Justin Campaign is proudly out and about raising awareness of homophobia in grassroots and professional league football, working towards a future where the visibility of LGB&T people is accepted and celebrated. Then there’s Birmingham Blaze FC – a truly inclusive team where all are welcome, regardless of sexual orientation. I smell progress! Accordingly, I’ll close thus: no matter what your view or opinion of homosexuality, an estimated 10% of the world is (and always shall be) bent as a nine bob note. And although we’re led to believe there are no gay players whatsoever in the Premier League, there probably is, on average, one per team (or perhaps two or three, if we count subs n that). They’re there; oh yes, they’re there. And you know what? I for one am ready and waiting for them with arms outstretched.

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: H C A E L F JEF DDICT A X E S I’M A

interview BY

E

RACHEL CLAR

Comedian and actor Jeff Leach has never hidden his addiction to sex. Through his stand up and a recent BBC 3 documentary, his insatiable appetite for women has been well documented. When his number of lovers sprinted past the 300 mark, he decided it was time to get help. CALMzine caught up with him over a bowl of Turkish stew to talk clean….

Q: So, you’re a self-confessed sex addict.

How did your addiction manifest itself? Presumably it’s different for different people… A: A lot of people pay for sex – I never did that - but when I was younger it was just a constant desire for sexual stimulation, whether that was physically with women or using internet porn. I think I was looking for some kind of affection that was lacking elsewhere, or had been lacking in the past. Don’t get me wrong, my parents were always affectionate, but there were always parameters put on it, so this was a way to get an easy fix. But after a while, like any kind of addiction, you build up habits and you need greater levels of stimulation to achieve that initial high. I’ve had cross dependencies with booze and drugs in the past and sex was just the longest running, and final, addiction to get over.

Q: Presumably it’s a very difficult addiction to tackle, seeing that sex is is deemed an acceptable human activity...? A: Exactly. It’s the same with food addiction. Both food and sex are necessary for the human race to continue and are fine in moderation. You’re physically and genetically built to do both. Removing one completely is not an option, which makes it a very hard addiction to beat. You can live without alcohol and drugs. You can’t cut out sex forever. Q: When was the point that you realised that your sexual appetite was a problem that needed to be addressed? A: The one thing that came out in the documentary I made [BBC3’s Confessions Of A Sex Addict] was that it wasn’t the number of women I’d slept with that was the issue, it was the way I was using sex that was the problem. I would want to keep the same partner, because I was yearning for something a bit more real, but I obviously wasn’t getting that because I would have twenty or thirty different lovers on the go at once. The other realisation point was when my behaviour drained my finances. I’m not an arsehole, so I would take the girls thecalmzone.net - CALMzone Helpline: 0808 8025858

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out to the cinema or to dinner and it all added up when you’re paying for a different girl every day and night of the week.

Q: Was there a specific point when you said: “That’s it – I’ve had enough. I need help” A: It was when I realised that my addiction was making me miserable. When things lose their allure and you see that the positive things in your life are being affected, such as your career and relationships, you start to realise something has to change. I’ve always been very open and honest about what was going on with me. That was the one good thing about my upbringing - we were always encouraged to talk about our problems, so there was no fear of opening up. I knew I had a problem for years; I just didn’t do anything about it. That’s the thing – a lot of people know they’ve got issues but they don’t want to admit it to themselves. They might lie about it and bury it but everyone with an addiction knows it’s up to them to decide to do something about it. And that can’t be forced. Q: It’s clear from both your stand up and the documentary that you are comfortable talking about your sex addiction. Is it a cathartic process for you? A: Getting up on stage and making jokes about my sex life is a form of self applied therapy, and it also helps the public to accept that this condition is real. I get a bigger high from performing in

Don’t get me wrong, i still love shagging but now it’s the way i approach the shagging that matters 16

front of a room full of people than I ever did with any drug I’ve ever done. For a lot of men, it’s the initial fear of talking that’s the problem, but once they’ve started, the floodgates open and they can’t stop. For me it was the other way round. I had no problem talking; I simply wasn’t doing anything about it. I only really started talking to my mates since making the documentary because I was always the ‘good time guy’ and why would people want to hear the ‘good time guy’ whinge about all this stuff? Luckily I have some amazing friends and I realised that not only were they willing to listen, but the wanted to listen. I also realised that I had a lot of false friends who were just along for the ride, so I got rid of them and focused on the friends who truly cared about me and wanted me to get better. It was like a heavy weight had lifted.

Q:

A lot of people are very dismissive about sex addiction, saying it’s a made up addiction to excuse promiscuous behaviour. What would you say to these cynics? A: That attitude exists because the only time it’s ever talked about publically is when it’s a film star who’s cheated on their wife, or a soap star who’s admitted to sleeping with a thousand women. When the film Shame came out a recently it really opened up the discussion about sex addiction being a real thing. Fifty years ago people didn’t think depression existed as a diagnosable condition – they just expected sufferers to cheer up and snap out of it, which we all now know is a ridiculous thing to say to someone who is clinically depressed. I think it’s the same case with sex addiction.

Q: Some blokes might feel envious of someone who has had sex with so many women, particularly within the lad culture of slapping your mates on the back and doling out high fives for getting laid… A: If I was out to have sex and wanted nothing more, then yes, I think I might have been seen as a lucky bastard, but the fact all I really wanted was love and a committed relationship meant I was utterly miserable. That’s not a very enviable position to be in. thecalmzone.net - CALMzone Helpline: 0808 8025858


Q: You sought help and went into treatment. How’s

that going? A: I was celibate for three months, which was difficult, and in that time I also went to see a psychotherapist who I still go and see. I’m not celibate anymore, though. I have a girlfriend and am no longer promiscuous, which is a very good thing. I still class myself as a sex addict but I’m not a practicing addict, if you know what I mean! You have to give yourself some time away from the source of the addiction. Don’t get me wrong, I still love shagging, but now it’s the way i approach the shagging that matters. I don’t drink or take drugs now either. It can be a bit boring, if I’m honest, but I’m much, much happier. Plus, everything else in my life seems to have taken off in a really positive way – my career is going from strength to strength now that I’m not spending my time and energy on chasing sex or drugs. I get to make love to my audiences every night of the week instead!

Q: Do you feel you know yourself better having gone through the rehabilitation process?

A: I do, but what it’s also given me the opportunity

to do is become fearless. I used to think I was an outgoing, confident, fearless person when I was drinking, taking drugs or sleeping around, but I wasn’t. All of that was a desperate attempt to ignore something that I didn’t even realise I was lacking. Now I can get up and dance on a dance floor sober, which I couldn’t before. I can have filthy passionate sex with my girlfriend without hating myself afterwards.

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Q: Is there a sex addicts support network? A: Like Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics

Anonymous, there’s also Sex Addicts Anonymous (SAA), which is great because you get to talk to like-minded people who understand what you’re going through. There is always someone you can talk to, even if that person is a stranger on the end of a phone helpline. It’s not necessarily going to be a one conversation, over night miracle, but it will make you feel better, and if it makes you feel even remotely lighter and that your problem has had the sting taken out of it, then surely that’s an avenue worth pursuing.

Q: So what’s next for Jeff Leach: comedian, actor, and recovering sex addict? A: I’m in the middle of shooting a feature film, which is really exciting. I’m not allowed to say anything more than that it is a British black comedy, gangster film. I’m also doing stand up six nights a week at the moment and will be at Edinburgh Festival again this year with my show ‘Boyfriend Experience”. It’s about my life over the last twelve months, going from being a male escort for a TV programme, through sex addiction and celibacy to now, being in a committed relationship. Edinburgh is amazing nowhere else can you do five or six gigs a day. The only addiction I have these days is an addiction to comedy. It’s brilliant. To keep up to date with Jeff’s gigs and news, visit his website: www.jeffreyleach.com Follow Jeff on Twitter: @jeffleach 17


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IS PORN THE NORM? WORDS BY DREW GEPP

Porn is the male masturbator’s cockaigne. Ok, wait, that sentence is politer than it looks. Cockaigne is a land of plenty, a medieval utopia where roast turkeys fly freely into one’s mouth, and pigs - already cooked - wander the streets with knives languishing in their backs. It is a fantasy world where you get everything you want, and resent everything you don’t have. Porn is the same: a release tinged with negativity, a seemingly modern phenomenon but eternal need, and an industry dominated by men.

THIS IS A MAN’S WORLD Before we go into whether pornography - that sexual umbrella - is good or bad, we should recognise one thing, it is predominantly a man’s sport. Men are not, I believe, intrinsically the more sexual gender (certainly not from most of the videos I’ve seen), yet porn is masculine. There are two outstanding arguments: Firstly, men’s sexual psyche is visual. We respond to graphic stimuli in a different way to women. Something to do, no doubt, with judging danger in the hunt. Nevertheless, big tits and child-bearing hips are the markers we prejudge. Whether the porn you watch is gay, straight, fetish or whatever, men of all creeds and constitutions are wired to respond to the visual. Secondly, sexual equality is an equality of opportunity, not power. Porn is masculine because forced-sex is not the done thing (quite rightly) but the demand for sex in some form is greater than the supply. Without the trump card (admittance), those doing the chasing create a secondary market, or in the case of porn, an entire industry.

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THE DEVIL IS A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN But porn is bad; we’ve been taught this. It exploits people to cater for the lascivious appetite of its consumers. All industries that exploit the vulnerable, and/or their workforce, should be reformed. But there are other evils (arms, oil), industries that are further away from, or better assimilated with the public view, but destroy lives in equal measure. This is not an apology for Porn. Where people are being exploited, and especially if their exploitation is being ignored (or belittled), we (the people, state, judiciary, commonweal) need to intervene. There is evident exploitation in the sex industry, but we should not demonise pornography because it’s an easy target. Besides, the idea of porn in the modern world (for which I mean in liberal, Western democracies) is not exploitative at its fundament. No more so than any other industry that exists in the capitalist framework. More regulation should be welcomed, but the stigma behind porn must be reviewed first, or at least in parallel.

PORN 2.0 This all makes porn sound like the invention of money hungry American pigs. It’s not. Rude drawings at Pompeii, naughty 18th Century pamphlets showing ankle; porn strokes its way through history, pleasuring the masses. However, there are times when communication explodes: Latin as the lingua franca and the advent of the printing press are two examples, the wholesale take-up of the internet is another. Men everywhere can now watch ‘Fat Bitch getting fucked in both holes’ wherever and whenever they want. Top shelves, and brown paper bags are a thing of the past(ish), and porn is now categorised by h-tags with limited embarrassment and unending breadth. This step-change in access persuades the public to believe we’ve become a debauched failure of history, escapists determined to jack-off to weird shit that no-one wants to see. But the internet doesn’t encourage depravity, it simply makes it more visible. Rather than skulking off to corner-shops in trench coats, porn resources have been centralised, and, in the comfort of one’s own home, you can visit a porn supermarket.

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RATHER THAN SKULKING OFF TO CORNER SHOPS IN TRENCH COATS, PORN RESOURCES HAVE BEEN CENTRALISED, AND, IN THE COMFORT OF ONE’S OWN HOME, YOU CAN VISIT A PORN SUPERMARKET.

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BIG BUSINESS This shouldn’t diminish our idea of porn as an industry; adult entertainment is an $8bn a year revenue generator according to Mark Kernes in a Huff Post article. And that’s the official figure. In California alone. But porn does much more than this too; it is at the heart of innovation, dictating the brands that will win, and the technology they (and we) will use. The battle between Blu-Ray and HD DVD was largely decided by the former’s decision to distribute adult videos, and the online paywall was a moot point to sex-sellers long before News Int bravely took the leap with the Times. This is hardly surprising given that over 70% of Video on Demand views are pornography (that includes Youtube), and 8 of the top 10 visited websites in the UK are adult. While other publishers fret over their business models, porn - that homogeneous other in the corner - continues to evolve, adapt, multiply, and survive. As an industry, it’s terrifyingly human.

HORNYGIRL88 WANTS TO CHAT So porn is male, normal, and everywhere, but is it right? I don’t think it’s a valid question. Certainly it’s unrealistic; pornstars are actors caught in kaleidoscopes, distorted bodies in rosetinted scenarios; but that doesn’t make it wrong. Porn also won’t make you any better at sex, like the Porter’s drink ‘it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance’. But there’s not always the time, money, inclination or ability to go out, find someone, and roast your goose. So in my mind it’s a substitute, but unlike the peasants who dreamed of cooked fish that jump out of the water and land at one’s feet, I would rather a good meal sometimes, than always going to bed hungry and dreaming on an empty stomach.

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KATAR A.K.A PATRICK GARBIT

Our cover artist, Patrick Garbit a.k.a Katar, is a 23 year old French illustrator and graphic designer. He initially studied fine art, illustration and comics, but recently changed direction to focus on pure design. He is the designer and co-founder of I’m My Own Brand Clothing, alongside his younger brother – their first venture into clothing design. You can see more of his work at www.imob-clothing.com and www.katarsketchbook.tumblr.com

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KATAR

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FRAZZLED DADDY SEX ISSUE SPECIAL

Here is an Extensive List Of All The Sex I Have Had Since Becoming A Father*:

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

*My wife has asked me to point out that we have had “some sex” in the six years since our first son was born and that this is a highly fictionalized account** ** It isn’t

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Words by Helen Bownass

1.

Ladies are often harder to decipher than Tulisa’s Twitter, Not least when it comes to getting it on but it doesn’t have to be this way… PORN IS YOUR FRIEND

Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but it is a loyal mate. And we’re fine with that. Just remember that real women aren’t anywhere near as liberal with their saliva or as keen on being choked or likely to parade around in their pants when the plumber pops over. Porn women are a myth, what they do on camera basically doesn’t happen in the real world. Remember that.

2. 3.

HAIR BEAR BUNCH

4.

SLOW AND STEADY WINS THE RACE

5.

STOCK UP ON RESOURCES

6.

THE AFTERPARTY

Don’t even think about shaving ‘down there’ to try and make yourself look bigger. It doesn’t fool anyone and constantly scratching the ensuing rash is the anti-sex. And, on that note, suggest she “pays a little visit to the nice waxing lady” at your peril!

STRIP TEASE HER

There’s something very Downton about slowly taking each layer of a girl’s clothes off and telling her how incredible her body is rather than ripping her dress off and pulling her knickers to one side. And if there’s one thing women love now and again, it’s feeling like the heroine in their very own period drama – just don’t tell them you know that. Oh, and your socks? Must. Be. Removed. It’s not a race, yeah? Women need to think they’re the centre of attention and that you’re after more than just the end result, so remember short-term (ball) pain = long term gain. Keep the focus round her thighs and lower belly with an infinite amount of long strokes and kisses, to send the blood pumping round her body until she’s begging to feel you inside her (and who doesn’t want to hear that?). Keep condoms close at hand. There’s nothing less arousing than lying there, totally naked, while a man roots around, looking for “that johnny dad gave me three years ago in case I ever got lucky”. But don’t give it to her to put on unless she offers. At this stage women want deftness and decisiveness. Lets call it: The Window of Female Hard-on. (Tip: If it’s the first time you’ve slept with her make sure it’s a full packet, you don’t want her wondering, for even a second, who you used the other condoms with). You’ve done your thing. You’ve both had a lovely time, thanks for asking, and now? Now she’s clinging onto you for dear life, and all you want to do is roll over have a fag/nap/smug smile in peace. Don’t. After an orgasm your bodies are filled with a hormone called oxytocin, unfortunately Mother Nature has played a blinder with this one because it makes men want to pass out, and women want to be touched. Helpful. Fight it, though. Wrap her up in a bear hug, stroke her forehead till she falls asleep and then revel in the silence of a job well done.

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In the next calmzine

The drug issue skinnyman by josh cole Whether you think drugs are for mugs or you’re happy living the high life, the next issue of CALMzine is tackling the subject, head on and fearless. From non-users to abusers, the truth is, drugs are everywhere - it’s how you approach them that matters. We’re not judging. Pick up our next issue to join in the debate…

we b Go to www.thecalmzone.net for features, opinion, forums and competitions to keep you busy until the next issue of CALMzine. Plus find out how you can get involved with the Campaign Against Living Miserably. 28

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calmzine

.. .

needs you

Would you like to write for CALMzine? Do you have a photographic eye? We want great writers, interviewers, bloggers, tweeters, artists and photographers for CALMzine and the CALM website. What’s your obsession, your passion? Music, sports, arts, gadgets, fashion, comedy, gaming – or something further out of the box? Can you write about it, picture it, tweet it? Can you conduct a gripping interview? We’d love to hear from you, and in no time your work could be on our website and in these very pages.

Get in touch with Rachel at: editor@thecalmzone.net thecalmzone.net

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“WE ALL SUFFER FROM THE FEAR OF BEING JUDGED. WE CAN’T LET THAT SUFFOCATE US” Words by Vernon Francois and Damon Briggs.

V

ernon Francois, image consultant and hair stylist, talks about the perceptions of homosexuality, individuality and dancing to reggae with his mum in the kitchen….. People don’t realise what it feels like to be stared at all the time. When I was younger when I was more anxious and unaware of my sexuality - I often took great offence towards people who gawked at me. Little did I know that I would, one day, use this to my advantage. Coming out is perceived to be one of the worst things you could ever do. It’s a very daunting experience. It doesn’t have to be that way though. I never went through the classic ‘coming out’ scenario to those close to me. Indirectly, I suppose I did come out to my family, but only via a conversation about going to a gay club.

“Hold on! What are you doing at a gay club?” was my mum’s response and I replied: ‘What, didn’t you know I was gay?” I had made no secret about who I was and the lifestyle I was living. This revelation for my family was of no importance to me; it did not change the way I had viewed them but what was clear was that it had changed their opinions of me forever. Coming out seems to be a process of defining and categorising yourself for the sake of other people. For me I have never defined myself through my sexuality.

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ARTWORK BY LOLA DUPREE


Say the word GAY! What comes to mind? Is there anything positive? Except HIV+? Sorry, I am being facetious, but I am trying to make a serious point. Look at the way the word ‘gay’ is used negatively: “Oh that’s SO gay”, you hear. It’s a term often used by heterosexual men and women with the intent to belittle, make others feel inadequate and to describe things or objects that are deemed rubbish or useless. That’s not very cool. This expression may seem harmless and inconsequential to many, but it’s fair to say that this does not highlight homosexuality in a positive light. The media industry often highlights homosexuality in stereotypical ways. Gay men are either camp, flamboyant, feminine, drag queens, and/or sex crazed. May I add that I’m not opposed to any of these characteristics, rather I think they should be celebrated. It seems that gay men often fulfil a role to be laughed at or as a source of fun – Christopher Biggins, anyone? Whilst working on a TV show I was asked by the director to camp it up for the camera. I obviously declined. It’s not me or my personality. Yes, I choose to wear clothes and accessories that may not be the every day norm, but does that make me camp? It’s interesting that society label people homosexual by the way they dress, look, sound, walk and what hobbies and interests they may have. The media further compounds this view.

I am aware that there are a load of gay men out there who do not fit the stereotype and, as such, there is a feeling that there is no place for them in the gay community as well as in society as a whole. Such use of dominant stereotypes in the media and society can create an environment that stops people ‘coming out’. Unfortunately I feel that if these same men were to come out they would be labeled as something that they are not. Being gay is not defined by how you look – it’s by how you feel. Growing up as a Rastafarian – and no I don’t smoke weed and have dreadlocks – being homosexual posed some challenges for me since, as a religion, it doesn’t approve of homosexuality. I have brilliant memories of dancing with my mum and brothers in the kitchen to Bashment and Reggae music. As much as I loved it, I was often struck by the derogatory and homophobic lyrics of the songs which made me question their message. Despite the many challenges being gay poses, I feel that it has made me a stronger and more open minded individual; and for this is am thankful. Differences must be celebrated. I would not change anything about who I am. I live by the words tattooed on my back: “It’s hard to be me, but it’s harder to be someone that I am not.”

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THE RANT By Chris Owen

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – the world would be a finer place if there were fewer complete dickheads in it. Nowhere is this truer than the London Underground – a seething hotpot of idiocy, brainlessness and downright belligerence. Where else could the innocuously simple task of ‘getting on a train’ become such a Krypton Factor style challenge and such a masterclass in cockheadery? Maybe it’s the collective lack of vitamins penetrating the layers of earth that have caused the very air itself that circulates throughout the network of tunnels to, over the years, ensure anyone supping it becomes a turgid, lobotomised moron. Maybe… except for the fact that the cockheadery continues at stations above ground too. Let’s look at what everyone on the Underground is trying to do – they’re trying to get on a train and sit (or more usually stand) on it, having gone through a barrier. This is the nub of ‘tubing it’. What part of this is so bloody difficult? What part of doing this exact same thing EVERY DAY makes it so bloody tricky to get your Oyster card out before you get to the barrier and start rooting around in your gigantabag (women, I’m looking at you here) to find the fucker? What part of ‘it’s the rush hour’ do you not quite get that means you stare at me for having the temerity of brushing against your arm as several hundred other people try to fit into this cattle wagon and get across London? Where in ‘let passengers off the train first’ do the words ‘please barge through anyone trying to get off this meat truck and thoroughly fuck them off ’ appear? And don’t let the ‘we’re just lost tourists’ argument steer anyone off track – I’ve been abroad and you have trains too. And gates to get to them. And the rush hour. And unless I’m very much mistaken Mr Sweaty Continental, you also have the concept of ‘personal space’ so stop frotting against my girlfriend’s leg. If there is such a thing as extraterrestrial life elsewhere and they land in London, God forbid they try to get the measure of us human beans by catching the Hammersmith and Shitty across town – I can think of no faster way to get the planet ray gunned.

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Do you have something you want to rant about? Send 300 words to editor@thecalmzone.net thecalmzone.net - CALMzone Helpline: 0808 8025858


Our entirely unprofessional agony uncle offers his entirely unprofessional advice… Q. My girlfriend always moans about my inability to find her clitoris, but to be honest I find it difficult to find my car keys most mornings so what chance do I have? Help!  Ian, Ealine J: Dude, I feel for you. A women’s HaHeHiHoHum is like the lost city of Atlantis, Excalibur’s Resting Place and your mate’s birthday party at some unknown pub even your phone’s GPS can’t find. But it is there, you just gotta keep digging. Don’t be shy, ask for her help. Find that gold. And when you do find it, mark it with a flare, or use breadcrumbs to lay a path so you don’t forget. Q. I read somewhere that shaving your balls makes your cock look bigger, but it just makes my junk look like the last chicken in the shop. How long does it take for the hair to grow back? It’s chilly... Graham, South London J: Graham. Gray Gray. Gray-shizzle. Y U shave ball pubes for? That’s from prepubescent vibrations there, mate. That’s some golden fleece, lion’s mane shit you messing with. You ever seen a Lion with no mane? Looked liked a cub, didn’t it? NEVER A GOOD LOOK. DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN. Oh, and I asked Uncle Google. Around 8 Weeks. Q. I’m marrying my girlfriend of 5 years this summer and am preparing myself for a life of monogamy by suggesting a threesome with her best mate before the big day. She doesn’t seem keen. Should i call the wedding off?  Loz, Leytonstone J: Totally. Mate, If you like more ‘inclusive’ experiences, your marriage should be with someone who accepts, celebrates and welcomes that part of you. If you want peanuts to go on your Pad Thai chicken, that shit won’t change after vows and confetti. She’s not right for you. You’re not right for her. Chalk and Cheese. Fish and Chocolate. David Cameron and Conscience. Lil Wayne and actual Lyrics. I think I have made my point. Q. My dick curves to the left. Am i gay? Mark, Wood Green J: Dude, my dick curves to the right. I’m not a Neo-Nazi. Sometimes, after a particularly brutal mic check 1,2 session, I’m well blue. But that does not, and will never mean, I support Chelsea or vote Tory. Next! Q. I am addicted to wanking over the telly programme Loose Women. My mum walked in on me bashing one out to a heated debate about shoulder pads the other day and now she thinks i have a thing for older women in heavy makeup. What’s wrong with me?  Billy, Shepherds Bush J: As my mother used to say, some dogs are vegetarian. Maybe you do fancy older women. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Mature is major sexy too. Demi Moore. Carol Vorderman. Helen Mirren. Helen Mirren. Cate Blanchett. Helen Mirren. Don’t even joke bruv. Me and Helen; I’d leap over your bleeding, dying body for them royal bones; no blinking, no thinking, no long thing. Don’t even go there. Find your own fine wine. Helen’s mine. You hear me, Billy? DON’T EVEN THINK OF HELEN WHEN YOU REVVING YOUR ENGINE. I’LL KNOW, OKAY? Q. Is it wrong that i prefer a cup of tea and a jaffa cake in bed than a sweaty hump fest with my wife? John, Tooting J: Nope. Unless by ‘cup of tea’ you mean ‘next door neighbour’s wife’ you’re doing fine. So long as you still love her and have mutual sweating sessions that satisfy the both of you I don’t see a problem.

Do you have a question for JOSH Email us on editor@thecalmzone.net

NOTE: Josh is not a qualified expert. He’s just a joker. However if you do want to know some more about him, go to www.poejazzi.wordpress.com If you need professional advice, call the CALMzone helpline on 0808 802 5858. Free, confidential & anonymous. Or text CALM1 to 07537 404717. We don’t charge, though your network might. Open 5pm-midnight, Sat/Sun/Mon/Tues



Calmzine - The Sex Issue