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CAMPAIGN AGAINST LIVING MISERABLY

SCROOBIUS PIP INTERVIEW // NADINE SHAH // MISTER MUMBLES // INNER LIFE // DEAR JOSH


CALM

CONTENTS

GREETINGS.

MANifesto .................................................... 2. Therapy? ..................................................... 6. CALM do Secret Garden Party ..................... 8. Inner Life ..................................................... 10. Mister Mumbles ........................................... 12. CALM Interview: Scroobius Pip .................... 14. Art Show: Just Scribble ............................... 17. Losing a Twin........................................ 19. Don’t Man up, Fix Up! .................................. 20. Ambassadors Reception ............................. 22. CALM Competition ........................................ 25. POEM: Oh Standfast ..................................... 26. Chris Sav’s Everyman .................................. 29. INTERVIEW: Nadine Shah ............................. 30. The Rant ........................................................ 32. Dear Josh ...................................................... 34.

Holy guacamole, what a summer! Not only did we experience the meteorological phenomenon known as prolonged sunshine, but CALM embarked on a hellasummer with our first ever CALMzone tent at Secret Garden Party (check out our Secret Garden Party pages in this very mag). Handing out free tea and biccies to the festival crowds, we made loads of new friends, spread the word about CALM to a very open minded and welcoming bunch of people and generally hung out with the most amazatron bunch of hip chicks and cool cats any suicide prevention charity could wish to meet. This could be the beginning of a beautiful festival relationship…watch this space… We also had the time to hang out with hip hop poet and überbearded superstar, Scroobius Pip, who gave us a couple of hours out of his busy schedule to talk about his new album, stuttering and grooming tips. Plus, just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, our very own agony uncle and Benin City front man Joshua Idehen is the man spewing out the questions, so double win. Check it. John Freeman talks to musician Nadine Shah and all of this alongside our stalwart columnists, Chris Owen overflowing with his usual vitriol in The Rant, Oh Standfast with a new poem and Mister Mumbles goes to Burning Man. Funkenskatt! Mixing it up, as ever, we also have a hard-hitting piece about losing an identical twin to suicide and our Inner Life series continues with a first person account of rehab. All of this wrapped up in the extraordinary artistic skills of our cover artist, 16 year of Just Scribble. Basically, it’s a hell of a read, so what are you waiting for? Wrap your eyeballs around CALMzine and don’t leave until you’re done.

Need Help? Call CALM. London: 0808 802 58 58 Nationwide: 0800 58 58 58. Lines open 7 days a week 5pm - midnight Want to advertise with us? Email editor@thecalmzone.net

CREDITS EDITOR: Rachel Clare DESIGNER: Silvina De Vita COVER ART: Just Scribble VAN DRIVER’S ASSISTANT: Katie Barton ‘OMGZ’ DISTRIBUTOR: Niamh Brophy CALM DIRECTOR: Jane Powell Contributors: Chris Owen, Mister Mumbles, Rachel Clare, Chris Sav, Josh Idehen, Oh Standfast, Just Scribble, ThisIsDA, Christian Lievers, Joseph Guthrie, A.L Muse, John Freeman. Special thanks to Topman for their ongoing support. CALMzine is printed on paper from sustainably managed sources. Printed by Symbian Print Intelligence, paper from Gould International UK.

CALMzine is the first port of call for all your manspiration needs. We all have issues at the end of the day, 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 thecalmzone.net - CALMzone Helpline London: 0808 8025858 Outside london: 0800 58 58 58

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Registered Charity no. 1110621


Therapy? 6

By A. L Muse I never thought I’d ever have to go to ‘therapy’. That’s the stuff for the crazies right? The loons who think the world’s going to end and they are the born again Lord of All. Not me, not the class clown; not the happy go lucky one; not the one with the constant questioning inner voice; not the one who hides and shies away; not me; not the one who finds it hard to make friends for fear of rejection. Oh, wait. Maybe therapy doesn’t sound too bad after all…

// IF YOU DON’T GIVE ANYTHING IN LIFE, YOU WON’T GET ANYTHING BACK. I OPENED UP TO THIS CHAP I’D NEVER MET BEFORE AND HE GAVE ME BACK MORE THAN I COULD IMAGINE. //

It was actually my wife who pushed me in the direction of the therapist’s chair again. I say ‘again’ because I’ve actually been to talk therapy once or twice before. I have long suffered from low self-esteem. Ha, you say, haven’t we all? I agree, we probably all do. Some of us cope with it better than others, though, and I don’t cope well at all.

I mentioned earlier the inner voice. I don’t want this to become some ridiculous Hollywoodesq ‘voices in your head’ scenario but to having to battle with your own thoguhts constantly fighting with your day to day life can be tiring and frustrating. Who am I supposed to listen to? My inner voice is made up of conflicting views from my upbringing and my experiences as an adult. My mother dominates my decision-making and I often find myself disappointed because of it. She is a strong, strong woman and was the fountain of all knowledge for me when I was growing up. However, I feel I was sometimes not allowed to paddle and splash in that fountain of knowledge

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and subsequently fell over and got soaked every so often. As a result of this, I am at times a little numb, and at other times emotionally completely over the top. My most recent talk therapy took place once a week for five weeks. I initially fought with the idea and wondered what on earth I’d say to the nice chap with squiffy hair sat opposite me, although he did make a nice cup of tea, I’ll give him that. It didn’t take long to explain my current situation and why I’d come to him to help with self-esteem issues as well as anxiety relating to a horrendous incident that occurred of which I had no control over. I talked and he listened. He didn’t say much, reminding me of the scene in TV show Black Books where Dylan Moran’s character goes to visit a therapist and just blurts everything out, the therapist just nodding and tilting their head, ultimately leading him to answer his own questions. Active listening, this is called, and it’s something many therapists use. Is this what it’ll be like, I wondered? Well, yes and no. If you don’t give anything in life you’ll never get anything back. I opened up to this chap I’d never met before and he gave me back more than I could imagine. The actual process of getting up and going somewhere to talk to someone about your problems, whatever they may be, was for me an integral part of the process. For three out of the five sessions I had I walked to the venue, a distance of about two miles. Not much, but it gave me time to formulate my thoughts and allow my body, mind and soul to prepare for what could be quite a draining fifty minutes. I drove to the last two sessions and could immediately tell the difference. I wasn’t as prepared and my brain was still in ‘driver’ mode. Not everyone can walk to therapy sessions, obviously, but taking a few minutes to prepare helps. It is the meditative state you experience when walking, alone with your thoughts, and

making an effort that has helped the most; getting into the mindset where I want to address these issues, where I want to get better and knowing that I will deal with everything when I am able to. At times, I went into that room without a thing to say until I was asked how my week had been. From the depths of my subconscious cascaded words, thoughts and things I had momentarily thought about or experienced during the week. My fears and worries for the present, the future and trying to get a perspective on what I was going through. In return I was thanked and made to feel good about sharing. My therapist listened to me, accepted and welcomed my crying and didn’t judge me when I told him I thought everyone would be better off without me. He asked me to not kill myself please, because there are much better solutions and of course he was very right. He told me about books I could read, gave me things to consider over the week and endeavoured to bring some joy back into my life, and ultimately convinced me to accept that it’s okay for me to experience some joy. I deserved happiness. As far as the inner voice, this is how I deal with things: I take my time. Things may not be ideal at this particular moment but I weigh up the consequences and do what I think is best for me, not for the projection of me I think other people should see. I am getting better since learning, thanks to my therapy sessions with squiffy hair man, that doing one or two or however many things a day, however big or small, to make you happy is paramount. My list is varied and ranges from enjoying good cheese to a weekend in a very fancy hotel, but it could be anything from taking a walk, to spending time doing something you haven’t done in years because you haven’t had the time. It’s the little things that build up into one great big positive thing. I wouldn’t have got to this point if it wasn’t for therapy, so if therapy is for the crazies, then count me in!

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“So, shall I have to bring a load of books to read while I’m here?” I asked. The doctor in the rehabilitation centre just looked at me for a few seconds before replying, “I’m not sure you’ve quite grasped what you’ll be doing here, have you?”   She then went on to explain the intense, fourteen hour days consisting of a mixture of psychological sessions, physical exercise, and educational workshops – all combining to tackle addiction from every possible angle to ensure I left there clean, and more importantly, safe.   Let’s get the clichés out of the way first – rehab is not just for celebrities. This is a misleading impression led by the red tops and glossy celeb rags; rehabilitation is for anyone and everyone affected by addiction in any of its forms, not just alcoholism or drugs.   Secondly, it’s not just a safe place to clean up and walk away from. It’s where you get to grips with your addiction, where you learn about how it works, why it has developed, and most importantly how you can take ownership back and become (and stay) sober.   Thirdly, and this is the stereotype which is sadly true, it doesn’t always work. However, what’s important is that it *does* work for some people. It’s worked for me, and it’s worked for friends whom I met whilst in rehab. These friends are now some of my closest and dearest friends; they’ve seen me at our absolute weakest, as I have them, when we’ve been broken down during psychological sessions; when we’ve needed people around to pick us up afterward and put us back together. To this day, these are people who’ve seen me as no-one else has and vice versa – they’re genuinely lifelong bonds.   The key starting point in rehab (aside from the chemical detox we all undertook) was the educational aspect of understanding precisely what ‘being an addict’ means. That involved the doctors and psychiatrists (all of whom are long sober ex-addicts themselves, able to properly understand the emotions, confusion and sheer 10

terror getting clean and sober entails), fundamentally drumming into us the fact that addicts are not bad people trying to be good. Addicts are very ill people, trying to get well. Trying to stay well.   This education centred around lessons in the brain, and the chemical basis to much of the addictive problems we all suffered – chemical imbalances and brain disorders which, combined with the sociological elements of our lives, made us the addicts we were. We learnt about dopamine; the pleasure-reward-circuit; the main structures within the brain and what they do; and most importantly we learnt about how our own addictions were fuelling these misfiring parts of our brains.   In doing so, we understood that addicts can’t ever safely return to their addiction – I, for example, will never be a social drinker; I’ll never drink alcohol again, in fact. I can’t. My body simply can’t handle it, and neither can my brain – there is *no* safe amount of alcohol I could tolerate. Put simply and stereotypically, one drink is too many and one hundred will never be enough. We learnt how to manage sobriety in its various states, and what safe tactics we

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INNER LIFE

The Realities of Rehab By Chris Owen

need to adopt to ensure we don’t relapse – it’s about “one day at a time”. We mustn’t think “I’ll never drink again”, this is too big a concept to gather; instead think “I will not drink today”. I’ve been sober for three and a half years now, and I remind myself of this every day.   From this educational foundation, we then built in the psychological aspects – understanding the chemistry is irrelevant without the ability to manage the huge emotions and passions so closely intertwined with addiction. This was intense. We broke each other down, we interrogated each other, we loved and loathed each other in the same hour and we each sat in the middle of the circle and had our own persona, warts and all, destroyed. Self-esteem – or rather a total lack of it – plays such a vital role in addiction, that this deconstruction allowed us to look at ourselves in manners we’d not done so before; each of us using alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex, or whatever the fuel of choice

// ADDICTS ARE NOT BAD PEOPLE TRYING TO BE GOOD. THEY’RE VERY ILL PEOPLE TRYING TO GET WELL. //

was to hide away from what we didn’t want to address, and realities we were happier not to stare in the face.  Almost every day was shattering, but it often felt such a relief to unburden some of the terror, anxiety and fear which had been sat within us for years, decades even. The doctor was right about not needing books – at night we were too exhausted to do anything but sleep.   For good measure, and to ensure it wasn’t just our brains that were exhausted, exercise was included every day – hard work for those of us who have spent a decade walking to the pub and little else. However, it released different chemicals to those our bodies had been pumping out and it pumped out reward chemicals in different ways to how we’d been getting our fix before. I never knew I could get excited about ‘boxercise’, but I was going at it like Ricky Hatton (albeit a more undignified version if anyone was watching).   Sitting, literally, alongside the exercise was meditation – we were taught techniques which allowed us to get our manic, highly charged minds to relax and allow us to drift off and find tranquility.   The whole process focused on truly learning what addiction is, how it works and how you – the addict – can claim yourself back from it. It’s about understanding that you are powerless over addiction if you let it rule you and if you don’t give it respect, you’ll never conquer it. However, it’s also about the line between respect and fear – if you spend your life in fear, it’s not a life lived but if you spend it in knowing confidence that you’ve defeated the undefeatable foe, and learnt to manage your addiction, you’ve come out the winner. Addiction is dark, but the comfort, lightness and relaxation of being clean is incomparably calming.   And yes, the fourth stereotype about rehab – the cost if you go private. Yes, it costs a lot – but there’s no point having a deposit for a house if you’re not alive to buy one.

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BURNING MUMBLES Join London’s louche lizard as he sojourns Stateside to the Nevada desert, for a jolly jaunt at the one and only Burning Man Festival. This year, as has now become customary, I once again upped sticks from this glorious capital of ours and lugged my portmanteau out to Black Rock City, makeshift home of Burning Man – the world’s most dementedly dusty festival of fabulousness. En route, I received communiqué from my Editor, requesting I turn in an article upon my return detailing the whole caper. Happily, I had left Mumbles’ Mansion equipped with my notebook and a ready supply of Bic four colour biros (the connoisseur’s choice for the dryness of the desert – when one ink gives up the ghost, there are three more just waiting to ker-click into action). What follows is gleaned from the grubby pages of that little notebook, pieced together after the dust settled and I reluctantly beat a path back to the default world. For those who don’t know, Burning Man is a week-long celebration of art and selfexpression in a place that quite often feels as though it’s on another planet in a galaxy far, far away. People whizz about on bicycles and the sun beats down pretty much relentlessly from dawn til dusk. The afternoons alone feel as though they last for days on end. The toilets are surprisingly clean. In the heat, strange shapes loom and recede as though mirages, or fragments of a lucid dream. Sculptures soar skyward, shade structures billow in the wind. Mutant vehicles criss-cross the playa (the name given to the vast expanse of openness beyond where we camp) and cops cruise by with sharkish eyes, ogling knockers and prowling for miscreants to award with citations. The dust gets all over the place, instantly turning the new into relics of a somehow bygone era. Everywhere you look is motion, a visual pizza topped with wonder and carved up into slices by smiling Burners darting this way and that. The eternally unfolding-action is soundtracked by a carnival of noise that makes you feel by turns euphoric and queasy – bass rumbles from heavily stacked speakers give way to snatches of Edith Piaf crackling from a portable radios mounted on the backs of souped-up tricycles. Through this joyful chaos I pedal my bicycle. It’s clad in brown fur and from the handlebars hangs my cup – a pewter tankard celebrating the coronation of George VI. This is Tuesday, the second day of the Burn. I draw into a champagne bar just before lunch time, proffer up my cup and swill bubbly down for breakfast. A few minutes later, I find myself a little further on down the road having my backside cattle prodded in exchange for a flaming gorilla shot. Onwards into the afternoon I ride. Straight-faced and in a conspiratorial whisper (though there’s no-one else around to ear-wig), a fusty old American from Sacramento tells me a tale about how a friend of his innocently googled backpacks and pressure cookers

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on separate occasions just after the Boston Marathon bombings, and the police came knocking. “You need to ask yourself,” he says, “are you an American, or an American’t?” He shrugs his shoulders, chuckles, and offers me an iron-on patch as a gift. They’re big on gifting here in Black Rock City. For a while, I take charge of a trade blanket outside my camp. Passers-by take a gift, then leave a gift. It’s how it goes. Some of the stuff that changes hands amazes me. Treasure gets traded for trash. Then the trash gets traded for treasure. I’m constantly astounded by what comes and goes – and the fact that within an hour, the contents of the blanket have almost completely changed – without a single cent in sight. A smiling lady gifts me a five leaf clover. An Israeli man gifts me a pen with a pull-out of birkat hamazon, the traveller’s prayer. Then he places his palm on my head and blesses me in Hebrew, an experience that is as intense as it is touching. Come evening, we sally out inside an enormous set of chattering teeth. Out round The Man himself, who’s still stood atop of his giant flying saucer, yet to catch afire. Out past The Temple where they kill the music and hundreds come to find solace in silence. Out and back in through the darkness, we chase after a giant caterpillar across the expanse of the desert dustbowl, making like we’re about to gobble it up. Then we pull in to where the porta-potties squat, because even teeth need to pee every now and then. “Has anyone seen Doug?” That’s the question that’s being bandied about as we wait to pull away in the teeth some days later, after The Man has fallen in flames. Turns out when Doug reappears, he’s been busy playing bongos with a man from Peru. You really couldn’t make it up. Refracted through the dusty prism of my notebook (from which I’ve decanted only the smallest dram of detail – I could fill three magazines over with the full field report) it’s tricky to truly convey a sense of the full-blown mind frazzle that Burning Man spades into your head. So what is Burning Man really all about then? I ask a few people what it means to them. As one would have it, ‘it’s a little piece of a better world.’ Another tells me that “the other 51 weeks of the year are your responsibility.” I concur with both. I even agree with the chap who says it’s all about avoiding crusty bumhole lips – and thank my lucky stars I swapped my lucky thimble for a chapstick at the trade blanket earlier on. To me though, Burning Man is about being myself, and remembering why I’m here – to create, to participate, to sing, dance, laugh and love in the glorious sunshine. And if my bottom is to get intolerably dusty in the process? Then so be it! Mister Mumbles Follow @Mister_Mumbles, and stay tuned for his Burning Man: Burning Badges photo project – coming soon! thecalmzone.net - CALMzone Helpline London: 0808 8025858 Outside london: 0800 58 58 58

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THE CALM

INTERVIEW:

SCROOBIUS PIP

Benin City front man, poet and CALM resident agony uncle, Joshua Idehen, sits down for a chat with poet, musician, radio DJ and busiest man in the music industry Scroobius Pip to talk about his music, his name and his beard oil… Josh: Hello to you Scroobius Pip. So let’s get straight to it. Sadly Dan le Sac can’t be with us today, but the new Scroobius Pip vs Dan Le Sac album is about to come out… Scroobius Pip: It is! It’s coming out October 7th. It’s our first album together for three years. It’s called Repent, Replenish, Repeat. Obviously in the meantime I’ve had a solo record, he’s had a solo record which featured your band, Benin City… J: Yes! Hooray! S: …So it’s exciting to get back together and have an album all finished and in the bag. J: How does it feel coming back from separate projects? S: It feels great. We both worked with a lot of different people and saw how they worked so I think it’s developed both of us. When Dan first sent me the beat for our first single, Stunner, it was the best beat he’s ever sent me - it was the most excited I’ve been about receiving a beat. J: It seems like [Dan] has got some new sounds and new ideas…

By Joshua Idehen

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S: It’s quite dark, isn’t it. We’ll both be working away and writing bits, not knowing whether what we’re writing is for Le Sac vs Pip, or for solo stuff, so he will send me really early versions of 20 or 30 beats, and I’ll go through them and go ‘I like that, and I like that’. With Stunner, I liked the darkness and aggression of it. It took me ages to write anything for it. Generally, if you get a good beat you’re just instantly on it, but I felt I really had to

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bring my top game up for it. On my solo record, Distraction Pieces, there are some darker sounds and it seemed to work. J: So, are you going to be working with the same themes on the new album? S: They are dark as ever, Josh. You know I always write dark. The first interaction I had with CALM was in 2007 when our first album came out. We had the track Angles, which was addressing suicide very head on. It’s funny because people have already said with Stunner, ‘oh, you’ve gone dark’, but I’m like ‘did you hear our first album?!’ The first covered suicide, the second album touched on spousal abuse and stuff like that. I just find that kind of stuff more interesting to investigate in writing. In your life in general, when you’re happy and cheery you try and remain in that state for as long as you can, and when you’re down your main focus is to get out of that state and move to a happier place. It means that those darker areas are the less explored, so when I’m writing I try and look back to darker times, as a kind of therapy as well, I guess. I find that more exciting to write about than ‘hey, I’m happy’. There’s one track called Terminal which I did as a spoken word piece at Edinburgh Fringe Festival this year which sounds bleak… J: It’s not about airports, is it… S: It’s not about airports, sadly, but it went down really well. Whilst there are bleak subjects being discussed, it’s done in an uplifting way. I don’t look upon death as a morbid thing, I find it a fascinating thing. It’s a part of everyone’s lives, but I often have to remind myself that speaking about such subjects, for some people, is seen as a bit grim. J: I don’t think I’ve ever listened to any of your stuff and come out of it feeling depressed… S: That’s kind of the aim – particularly when I

was at The Fringe. I had a lot of jokes and light heartedness in between the pieces. Part of that was to make it a more flowing night, but partly to give those subjects a harder impact, if you’re laughing and joking and then suddenly it switches, it gives those subjects a far deeper impact and hopefully gets a better reaction. J: Where do you see yourself as an artist? You started off in spoken word, you run a hip hop night, and you make what is technically electronic music, so how do you place yourself between these different strands?

//

PEOPLE S: It occurred to me recently HAVE ALthat at the moment my name is more relevant than ever. I chose READY SAID ‘YOU’VE Scroobius Pip from an Edward Lear poem about a creature that GONE DARK’ AND I’M wakes up in the jungle and doesn’t LIKE ‘DID know what it is. It hangs with the YOU HEAR lions for a bit, and it’s nice, but he’s OUR FIRST not a lion; he goes with the fish for ALBUM!? a bit, and it’s nice but he’s not a // fish. In the end it realises that he’s just a Scroobius Pip. That’s most relevant to me at the moment, because I’ve got my [XFM] radio show, my club night, my spoken word thing, I do the stuff with Dan, I do my solo stuff sometimes, and I love that I don’t have to specify, or say ‘I am this.’ It means I don’t have any social life but it’s just great to get the chance to go and engage in all these different ways. J: So the radio show – how’s that going? S: It’s going far better than I expected. Eddy Temple-Morris had pushed me for a while to do one and I didn’t have time, but he talked me into doing a pilot and the guys at XFM really liked it. When I was making the pilot I realised that there’re [hip hop artists] like B Dolan and Sage Francis who are amazing, but aren’t on the radio over here – that’s

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crazy. Getting to play these guys and having people on Twitter going ‘I’ve never heard of The Uncluded or Run The Jewels’ - I instantly get a buzz.

// I LIKE THAT I DON’T HAVE TO SPECIFY, OR SAY ‘I AM THIS.’ //

J: I think I’m right in saying it’s the only major radio show dedicated to left field hip hop and spoken word. S: It’s the only one I know of. It’s crazy that [XFM] allow me to play whatever I want. Originally I wanted to have a spoken word section on the show every other week, but that’s the bit that gets the biggest reaction – people go crazy for it.

J: Lets move onto the tour. You’ve sold out most of your dates… S: I believe it’s sold out completely now. We intentionally chose smallish venues because we thought me and Dan haven’t toured properly together in years so it would be good to do a run that sells out in a month or so and then we can build up to another tour in the new year. J: Have you announced your support yet? S: It’s Prolyphic and Buddy Peace. Prolyphic has never toured over here properly so it’s exciting to get him on board. J: That sounds sick – can’t wait. Where’s your London gig? S: It’s at The Garage on Oct 21st, so that’ll be cool. I think that’s right…. J: Readers of this should check online because sometimes artists don’t know their own dates, right?... S: Google it, man! I’m always saying that… J: Not many people reading this will realise that you have a stutter. Have you written any poems about it?

and that’s the story of how I got my stutter, but no I never have really. J: You posted a video blog a while back talking about a technique you had learnt from the bassist from a band called PoetiCat about how to cope with stuttering… S: Yeah, you tap the word out. The guy from PoetiCat had a really strong stutter but when he tapped out every syllable on the table or whatever, he didn’t stutter. I found that fascinating so I went home and did a quick video blog about it. I’m fine about the fact that I stutter, and when I started doing the radio show they asked me if I wanted to do second takes and I said no, if I stutter, I stutter. It’s not a big deal to me. That’s just how I talk. That particular video blog has gone down really well and has been shared a lot within the stuttering community, if there is such a thing! J: I’m going to throw this final question in because someone asked on Twitter - What shampoo do you use? S: I haven’t got a particular favourite shampoo. I generally buy what’s on offer, but I do use a specific beard oil. That’s my thing. It’s called Woodsman and I import it from America. I got sent a little sample and it’s amazing! It makes you feel like a lumberjack. It’s so manly, it’s brilliant. So that’s my main grooming tip. J: I wouldn’t know what that feels like… S: You’ve got a bit of a beard… J: It’s dire. This beard is years of telling the barber not to touch it - it just hasn’t worked out for me. S: You’ll get there in the end, man. J: Thanks! So that’s it. Cheers Pip and good luck with the new album.

Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip ‘Repent, Replenish, Repeat’ is out Oct 7th on Strange Famous Records.

S: One of the first poems I did was called 1000 Words

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JUST SCRIBBLE This issue’s cover artist, Eric Aidoo aka Just Scribble, is a 16 year old self taught visual artist based in Bristol, who operates under the Scribble Designs name brand. Mainly producing creative drawings and paintings of Hip Hop artists, his material also encompasses other wild designs produced from his own imagination. To date, the Scribble Designs page has garnered over 4,000 likes from Facebook users worldwide. On top of that, Just Scribble’s work has received recognition from many big Hiphop industry names such as Rick Ross, Hopsin, DJ Ill Will, KiD iNk, Soulja Boy, Lil B, Blu, WizKhalifa. com, Young Noble, E.D.I. Mean, Mopreme Shakur, T’yanna Wallace, Joe Budden, Rocawear Clothing & Mechanical Dummy.

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Twitter: @_JustScribble Facebook: facebook.com/JustScribbleArtwork Tumblr: justscribble.tumblr.com

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I lost my twin to suicide

By Christian Lievers

Clifford was ‘the man’. He was respected everywhere he went, he never cracked and always seemed like he could handle any situation. He seemed like the best Dad. He wasn’t much of a husband, to be honest, but nobody’s perfect. Most of all he was my identical twin and I will eternally be safe in the knowledge that our 32 years together were, and always will be, the best years of my life, regardless of any thing I achieve from here on in. The only difference between the two of us was how we dealt with emotions. I always showed mine, he never let his be known. I use the past tense because Clifford took his own life in April 2012. There were no previous attempts - Clifford wouldn’t have done it wrong. He liked to get things right first time - but his suicide was the one thing he got very wrong, more wrong than any thing else he ever did in his short life. Maybe I should explain a bit more about us. We are the youngest of five brothers, born in January 1980, and we were treated differently from the start because we were identical twins. We were always sent to ‘play out’ with our older brothers, all between five and ten years older than us, so our brothers’ friends became our friends. The result was that we, at the tender age of five, were ‘playing out’ with fifteen year olds. It’s fair to say that our brothers and their friends were not the best-behaved kids. We didn’t hang out with them every day but it was enough to make an impression on us. These older

lads were all teenagers, posturing and trying to be ‘the man’. This was in the early 80s when ‘being a man’ seemed simple. Fighting, fucking and earning were all it seemed to take to be ‘a man’. Nowadays, in post millennium // society, we know that this isn’t MEN DON’T the case. The 90s was when TALK, DO we started to notice all the THEY?? things that come with being a man, such as the responsibility. THAT’S WHAT WOMEN DO, The ‘Metrosexual’ man RIGHT? appeared on the horizon, and // mindsets slowly began to change towards men breaking out of the old fashioned idea of what constitutes masculinity, but some archaic stereotypes remained. It’s the man who is supposed to have the ‘stiff upper lip’. The man who should be there to look after the people around him, be that as a grandparent, parent, sibling, partner, child or even friends, whatever the situation. A man is the provider, and he never cries. Or so we thought. Our own father was never the kind of man to show his feelings. There was no messing with the old man. I only realised myself about six weeks before Clifford’s death that it was ok for men to cry. Just because I get upset, doesn’t make me weak. Sadly, Clifford hadn’t learnt that bit yet. The few weeks before Clifford took his own life was the only time in our lives we hadn’t been speaking to each other. I choose the term ‘speaking’ rather

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than ‘talking’ because, in actuality, we never really ‘talked’. Even as identical twins, we didn’t discuss our inner most feelings. Men don’t talk, do they?? That’s what women do, right? Men often fear ridicule when sharing their thoughts. Women are not derided for outwardly expressing their feelings. Even with us being twins, there was still the fear that one might see the other as ‘less of a man’. Most people would feel guilty after someone close to them takes their own life if they were not speaking prior to the death. I’ve had no feelings of guilt or any of those usual feelings people experience after a suicide. I feel that, since I was his identical twin I was able to provide answers, both for myself and for others were close to him. I felt I could speak on his behalf, explain his decision to take his own life. On the night Clifford died, when the family gathered together, I felt the need to apologise to every one for him. Losing an identical twin to suicide is a very unique experience, and one that’s very hard to explain. I have asked a friend of ours, Tara, who we have both known since childhood, to explain what Clifford’s death meant to her: “Clifford and Christian were always there through the darkest times in my life. Fearless friends with such energy and laughter. I saw my best friends grow from boys into great men. Family was so important to them both. Clifford became

a father at 17, but when he was 32 he moved into his own flat after the breakdown of his 15 year relationship. Leaving his children was heartbreaking for Clifford. Although much of the blame for the breakdown of the relationship lay at Clifford’s feet, he found himself in very unfamiliar territory, living alone where the silence was deafening. I had many conversations with him and at times I could tell he was not himself - actions and comments that seemed out of character. I asked him to go to the doctor which he promised to do, but unfortunately never did. When Clifford killed himself the world stopped turning. The shock was devastating. I miss him every day and only wish I could have done more.” Since Clifford’s death, myself and one of Clifford’s close friends, Simon, have launched BiG Red’s House, with the aim of creating a support network for men suffering from depression and offering relief through art therapy or simply just providing an understanding ear. Both Simon and I have been through depressive episodes, even suicidal depression when things have been really low, but having come out the other side we are here to help anyone who feels the same way and needs to talk. Already men are seeing BiG Red’s House is the place to come to talk without ridicule or judgment. We love the work that CALM are doing and want to help in any way we can. www.bigredshouse.com

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21


DON’T AN UP’ M ’ ‘ T ’ ‘ M P N DOD A U N N U ON‘M A P ’ T DONN’T’T ‘MAN DON’T ‘MAN UP’ U O ‘ MANN UP’ D U A P M ’ ‘ T ’ N O D By Joseph Guthrie

Before I begin this piece, I want to make this abundantly clear: I am not a feminist. That’s due largely to the staunch feminists I have conversed with in the past telling me, point-blank, that men cannot be feminists but they can lend their support to the feminist cause.  Make of that what you will, but this article is not about feminism.  It’s not about what women think of men, nor is it about patriarchy and the oppressive systems born from its institution.  No, this piece is about how we men have failed ourselves horribly and what I think we can do to change this before it gets any worse.

Growing up, I was never truly accepted by the other boys in my year at school, but instead seemed to get along better with dudes older than me, or like-minded.  As opposed to analysing the various facets that make up this kind of dynamic, I thought I’d just go over what I think is wrong with the nurture, not nature, of men.  As a matter of fact, I think the following things are 100% myth and I’m tired of seeing them being constantly forced down the throats of young men: - The showing of emotions makes you weak. - ‘Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen’ - You’ve gotta be ripped in order to justify your manhood. There are many more, trust me.  Nevertheless, these are the three things we can do with abolishing immediately when it comes to the rearing of boys and young men. Allow me to elaborate… I hear it all the time and I’m sure you do as well: ‘Man up.’ I won’t beat around the bush here because

what that actually translates to is: ‘Bottle up all your emotional pain, harden your heart and keep it to yourself because I don’t want to hear about it. Ever.’  There’s this asinine belief that if you sweep all of your emotions under the rug without addressing the root cause, it will make you stronger. More manly.  I’m here to tell you that that’s absolute bollocks and it will have the same effect as leaving a can of Special Brew in the freezer over night. Eventually something’s going to explode and it’s going to get messy. The medical long & short of it is simple: suppressing emotions has negative consequences, especially in the long term.  These consequences range from the moderate to the severe, including the development and further exacerbation of mental health disorders like borderline personality disorder (BPD), post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD).  Apart from that, it should be brutally obvious that you’re not actually dealing with an issue if you just pretend it’s not there.  You’re only fooling yourself, which isn’t good for your wellbeing either. Most human beings - regardless of gender - are capable of not only being in tune with one’s emotions, but also expressing them in a healthy manner.  We hear the societal myth that “women are the emotionally superior gender” and I immediately think to myself it’d be a lot more balanced between genders if we didn’t raise our boys and young men to be anti-heroes: cold, callous, and devoid of any expression or empathy. Very little can be addressed productively with aggression and brute force alone and if you open a history book you’ll

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FIX UP FIX UP FIX UP

P’ ’,P’

see what I mean. Which brings me to my next point: this ‘treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen’ shite has got to end. Now.  How many of us men have a mum, a sister, a friend, a girlfriend, a fiancée, a wife or a daughter that we care about more than anything in the universe?  The old adage that says men are meant to be the providers for, and protectors of, women is not only old hat (women have proven time and again that they are quite capable of handling themselves, thank you very much) but when you consider the various shocking statistics concerning domestic abuse and rape, we’re doing a pretty shitty job.  With suicide being the biggest killer of men under 35 in the UK, and two thirds of all suicides in this country being male, many men are clearly remaining silent about their myriad of troubles, which means we’re struggling to protect our damn selves, let alone the women in our lives.  The very fact that there’s a [very old] populist joke about fathers needing to arm themselves and be ultraprotective of their daughters when she starts dating is one of the biggest indicators that there is a huge problem that only we, as men, can address. Finally, we see how badly body image in the media affects women but you’d never know how it affects men because, well, men refuse to talk about it.  This pervasive fear of being perceived as a “b*tch” or a “f*gg*t” just to gain some sort of luke warm approval from society and boost one’s self-confidence has got to stop because, judging by the growth in eating disorders in men, it’s clearly causing a lot more problems than it’s meant to address.  We have to teach boys and young men to build self-esteem from within, but because so

much onus is put on what’s on the surface (just pick up a copy of any male fitness magazine and you’ll see what I’m talking about), too many crucial aspects of our wellbeing get neglected.  I’m not saying // physical fitness isn’t important, but when you suffer from mental health issues, EVENTUALLY what’s more important?  The fact that a SOMETHING’S huge percentage of men are having the GOING TO same regrets about their body image EXPLODE AND that affect women so adversely tells you IT’S GOING TO everything you need to know and it’s high GET MESSY time the double standards end and the // issues at the root get addressed posthaste. An old friend once told me that the mark of a real man is someone who is spiritually, emotionally and physically available for his loved ones and the community at large.  Sadly, the majority of men are nothing like that and are too busy trying to emulate being Scarface, The Punisher, or whatshisface from Ocean’s Eleven instead.  The outmoded idea of ‘masculinity’ is not the answer and considering all the problems it has, and continues to, cause it never will be.  It is the ideal that no man will ever reach and even if he does, he’ll ruin himself and his humanity in the process.  Achieving what is perceived and presented as true ‘masculinity’ is no less destructive than the women and girls who attempt to look like the Photoshopped models they see gracing the pages of Cosmopolitan and Vogue. It’s not time to ‘man up.’  It’s time to fix up.

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AMBASSADOR’S

RECEPTION:

ThisIsDA At CALM we have a band of merry men and women who are proud to call themselves ambassadors for the Campaign Against Living Miserably. But who the hell are they? Reveal yourself…ThisIsDA Tell Us About Yourself… I’m ThisisDA. a rap singing, article writing, photography taking, wannabe filmmaking teenager.   So Why CALM? I was drawn in by the aesthetic of the campaign and unique approach to the issue CALM work so hard to prevent. It’s refreshing to see a group of people committed to openly talking about an emotional state that has seemingly become a taboo in mainstream society.

What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever been given? Act as though it’s impossible to fail, and you won’t. What is your one ‘lifesaver’ track guaranteed to make you feel better when things get tough? Eminem ‘Survival’. A real kick ass tune that makes me feel as though I can overcome anything… ANYTHING!!!  What is your one rule for living life? Believe in something greater than yourself. Find out more about ThisIsDA’s work here: Tumblr: http://03until.tumblr.com/ Twitter: @ITSTHISISDA Stream music: https://soundcloud.com/ ThisisDA Free downloads: http://ThisisDA. bandcamp.

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WIN A MINX AIR WIRELESS SPEAKER SYSTEM WORTH OVER £300! Thanks to the generous folks at Cambridge Audio (www.cambridgeaudio.com) you could be in with the chance of winning these sonic beauties. Minx Air is a revolutionary wireless system that plays all your music wherever it is – smartphone, tablet or on your computer. Pretty sweet! Just answer this simple question (the answer is somewhere in this magazine):

What is the name of Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip’s new album? To enter, email your answer to editor@thecalmzone.net using Subject: ‘CALM SPEAKER COMP’. Winners will be notified by email after the closing date. We can only accept entries from the UK. Competition closing date: Dec 1st 2013.


Judge’s Notes by Oh Standfast She took me on a journey all the way back From the time of Doncaster boogie & Luxembourg rap She was marvellous, disastrous She needed plumbers & plasterers She was Morgan Freeman, Kevin Keegan, Martin Sheen & Steve McQueen And the great escape is what I was needing Cos after ten minutes my ears were bleeding She was a sweet-savoury fusion A menu-abroad confusion She was Edgar, she was Allan, she was Poe She was Dot, she was Ian, she was Phil, Pat & Mo. She couldn’t sing for toffee and I loved that fact The last thing she needs is more sweets & that She’d be dragged out at Christmas like Monopoly, Sudoku, Scrabble, Kerplunk! The NME would describe her as Screamo-Hardcore-Folk-Disco-Donk-Funk! She’s a two fingered salute hiatus To the inevitable D–list celebrity status I quite like her.

OH LOOK, BUY THE BOOK! This poem & other words by Oh Standfast feature in his new book ‘Don’t you wish your kindle was a book, like me?’ All profit from book sales will be donated to CALM and you can get your hands on a copy for only £3 by visiting http://ohstandfast.wordpress.com/shop

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27


NEXT

ISSUE

OUT

NOVEMBER 2013


Everyman by chris sav

CALMZINE

NEEDS YOU

r 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. r 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? r 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


Singer-songwriter Nadine Shah’s enthralling debut album ‘Love Your Dum And Mad’ was inspired by the death of two close friends. Both were young men who took their own lives. Here, Nadine talks to CALMzine about the impact their deaths have had one her, and why she is so dedicated to fighting stigmas associated with mental illness. Your album was largely inspired by the death of two male friends. Can you tell me a little bit about the circumstances? Yes – firstly, there was Stuart, who was my boyfriend when I was 19 years old. He was always very up and down - one minute we were in love and everything was great, and the next moment he would be very down and really cold towards me. Our relationship was very chaotic. It was only in going to Stuart’s funeral and speaking to some mutual friends that I subsequently learned he was bipolar. That explained a lot about our relationship - had I had known he was bipolar at the time I could have been a lot more sympathetic. Had you been aware of Stuart’s illness, how would that have changed things? I would have had a heightened sense of understanding. I couldn’t understand how he could go from being happy to being at rock bottom with a click of the fingers. He would be really introverted and I took it as a personally. If I had known he was ill, I would have researched more about how I could have cared for him. I could have helped him. I still kick myself now.

Can you tell me about your other friend? Matthew was my older brother’s best friend at Art College. Matthew was a gorgeous extrovert, who somehow got involved with heroin and other drugs. One day he took an overdose and was in a coma for about nine days. When Matthew came out of his coma he was an entirely different person - he was childlike and vulnerable. It was apparent just how aware he was that he was living in the shadow of his former self. That’s what really haunted him. What impact have their deaths had on you personally? For a long time I felt to blame for both of their deaths. I think it’s a natural reaction. Whenever somebody dies, people can always blame themselves and feel that they could have done more to help the situation. Maybe, in reality, there is very little you can do – but I did feel very responsible. After the coma Matthew would text me, asking to do various things as he wanted to keep active. I kept making excuses, as to be honest I was kind of intimidated by his illness. I didn’t know a lot about mental health disorders at the time. To me, the connotations of ‘mental illness’ meant someone would be emotionally volatile and I didn’t know how to deal with that. How have you come to terms with your feelings of guilt and grief? I don’t really think I have come to terms with the guilt associated with what happened. Knowing what I know now about mental illness, and how debilitating it is, I can understand it more fully - like cancer or heart disease. At

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INTERVIEW: NADINE SHAH By John Freeman

the time, I was completely scared of mental illness. The reason the album came to be about mental illness is because I didn’t go and see anyone to talk about what had happened, as I was too ashamed to even talk to a psychiatrist. I thought they would blame me. So, I wrote songs instead. I became obsessed with Stuart’s and Matthew’s conditions and other stories similar to their situations. Reading about other people’s stories has been my solace. But, I am so frustrated that I didn’t act at the time. One of the reasons I will always talk about what happened is that I don’t want anybody in the circumstances I was in – and I don’t want a grain of sympathy – to punish themselves for a long as I did. I’m only just starting to feel better.

// I’M NOW ABLE TO VERBALISE WHAT HAPPENED AND THAT MAKES ME FEEL A LOT BETTER. //

Looking back, were there any similarities between Stuart and Matthew’s situations? It’s something I think about all the time. Both Matthew and Stuart were awesomely talented boys in their own creative fields. I found that their lowest points were when they didn’t have an outlet for their creativity – so what I always tried to do was encourage them to be creative. Also, both boys didn’t really have the social network – like many women do – to be able to talk to their friends about how they were feeling. Has writing songs about your experiences helped you

in any way? No. It’s not been therapeutic or cathartic. It’s been the opposite. In some way I regret the songs I have written, as I now have to sing them often and think about what happened over and over again. I didn’t write them to be heard. So, in that sense, it hasn’t helped. The thing that really helps is being able to speak to people as a product of what I have made. I’m now able to verbalise what happened and that makes me feel a lot better. Also, one of the only good things about all of this was that Matthew’s mum was delighted I was using his artwork for the cover of my album. She was so happy – finally her beautiful boy’s art was on display, which was what she always wanted. When you lose someone, you want their memory to live on. You are amazingly open about your experiences. Is it difficult to keep talking about such tragic circumstances? It is - but I want to be part of the jigsaw that shatters every social stigma that still exists about people who are suffering from mental illness. We should think about it like heart disease – it is an illness that needs to be treated, not brushed under the carpet and ignored. ‘Love Your Dum And Mad’ is out now on R&S Records

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31


THE RANT By Chris Owen

Ah. Summertime… halcyon days spent relaxing in balmy sunshine, the smell of freshly cut grass wafting into one’s nostrils as you wile away the afternoon frolicking among flowers and the sound of the countryside… an ice cream in one hand and a glass of fruity fresh cloudy lemonade in the other. What could spoil this quintessentially British image of peace and tranquility?   I’ll tell you what – BLOODY WASPS. Or, to give them their Latin name, ‘Nature’s Dickheads’. Buzzing around with no fixed purpose other than to annoy the fuck out of people trying to enjoy the sunshine. It’s not as if they even produce anything worthwhile… bees, those lovely little fat furry bundles of stripy-ness, bring us honey and pollinate flowers; wasps – knack all. Nothing. Nada. Niente. They do two things: sting, and piss you off.   There you are, happily slurping on a Mr. Whippy, when you see the tiny black and yellow poison fuckdart appear out of the corner of your eye, whining in their nasally squawk “ooooh ice creeeammm…. I lliiike ice creeaaaam” before sitting on it, wandering around it for a bit, and then threatening to sting you. So you either waft the bastard away or drop your ice cream.   Wafting it away merely antagonises it and makes it more determined, while dropping the ice cream is just another massively backward evolutionary step, right up there with humans – despite millennia of evolution – stooping to pick up our own dogs’ turds.   And what if you squash wasps? The general consensus seems to be that this lets off chemicals, which attract more of the bastards in order for them to come and savage you. Seriously, what kind of vindictive wankery is this? What other creature would develop such a malicious tactic? All they do is annoy you, and if you kill them for being the fucktards they are, they get their mates along to sting the crap out of you for deigning to stand up to them.   Chav bastards.

Do you have something you want to rant about? Send 300 words to editor@thecalmzone.net 32 thecalmzone.net - CALMzone Helpline London: 0808 8025858 Outside london: 0800 58 58 58


ATENCIÓN! Secret Garden Party Campaigners! They came, they served tea, they survived the horrific toilets. And were awesome! We couldn’t have done it without you. THANK YOU: Jane, Leonie, Emily, John, Alex, Charlene, Graham and Cecilia

Thanks, as always, to the CALMzine DREAM TEAM: Hannah, Joshna, Chris, Alex and David

Lan the Baron Football World Cup crew - the Gaglione family and friends who once again hosted an incredible event at Downhills Park – high fives all round!

Marcus Chapman, Chris Pratt, our volunteers and everyone who took part in the remarkable Tour de Test Valley. Breaking CALM fundraising records all over the place. RIDE ON NELLY!

The CALM office would grind to a halt without Arun, Tom, Stacey, Ness, Hannah, Lotte, Marcia, and Anthony. Thanks to Dar. ren and all at the Social, and Hannah and Diego who helped out at the Serious Drugs Film Screening.

IPC for their Pool Tournament – Thanks to Vicky @ IPC for organising, the many teams for taking part and Mirko for helping out on the day.

Everyone who ran the British 10k for us this year – a record breaking fundraiser for CALM. You rock! And Katy J – your ace admin skills made it all happen! Superstar.

Everyone who helped us out with the brilliant Marie Claire feature. With your help, we were able to create a very powerful article. Thank you.

Enormous thanks to the continuing support from the Sefton Park Cricket Clubbers and Alex Miller’s family.

Michele Harper and Hannah Peskett for tirelessly raising funds and awareness for CALM. Lauren Lepley for her amazing support and continued fundraising efforts

Phoebe – Thebes! You will be missed! It’s been all too brief xx


Our entirely unprofessional agony uncle offers his entirely unprofessional advice… Q: Is eating meat whilst listening to Morrissey really cool and extra subversive? Gary, Liverpool A: Maybe if you were living through Taliban strongholds in Afghanistan whilst riding a US flag decorated scooter wearing nothing but nipple piercings, a bright pink hello kitty boxer shorts and loads of Tesco value honey, it could be considered subversive... and other things, of course. But nah, mate, don’t be daft you’re normal like us NEXT Q: I’m about to start Uni and I’m planning on changing my name to fit in with my new life and new friends.  I was thinking of going with something a bit posh, yet also reflects my interest in Roman mythology:  Hugh Janus.  What do you think? Gordon, Hammersmith A: ARE YOU NIGERIAN WINE CRAZY? ARE YOU STEW-PID IN THE RICE PUDDING? You’re called Gordon, one letter from Gorgon. Gordon as in Freeman, as in gin, as in Brown (okay forget that one) as in Ramsey (okay that one too). You are literally falling into the biggest uni cliché trap there is: Pretension. DON’T DO IT. YOUR NAME IS FUCKING SWEET. KEEP YOUR FUCKING NAME. HUGH JANUS MAKE ME THINK OF GRANT PENIS OR JACKMAN PEANUTS. DON’T DO IT. NEXT! Q: Dude, I’m going bald.  No one seems to understand the trauma this is causing me and my mates take the piss out of my ever expanding forehead. What would be the best way to shut them up? Nick, Fulham A: High levels of Testosterone increases the sex drive at the cost of thinning head. This is a fact. You are probably more virile than all of your mates and you’ve got the head to prove it. Do with that info what you will. NEXT! Q: If white men can’t jump, can you please explain the success of former Olympic, world & commonwealth champion triple jumper Jonathan Edwards? Tom, Finsbury Park A:Same way I can explain good women drivers: STEREOTYPES ARE DUMB INNIT. 

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.com

If you need professional advice, call the london CALMzone helpline on 0808 802 5858. Outside london call: 0800 585858

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