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A magazine about trends, stye, opinion, music, art, fashion, film, events, pubs, clubs and restaurants, along with a few abstract articles and everything else in between that we feel bares relevance to our current day to day living in this brilliant Capital - London ~ Jack Loves You More

Jack has had a fair few changes in his relatively short life and we are soon to put him through a few more. As some may or may not know Who’s Jack started out as a club night about five years ago that developed into a magazine about two years ago. We began by sitting on the floor and sticking pieces of paper together (seriously!) and then we got a a bit better at it and it moved online; then into A5 print and now into A4. We have even more announcements and changes up our sleeves for the next three months which is why anyone who knows me right now is not seeing or hearing a whole lot from me. Busy times. Updates are constantly on our blog at and on the website (which is also going through some changes) so you will be by no means left in the dark. However; for the BIG CHANGE all we will say for now is that there are 61 days to go. And we’re counting. Lu x


Camilla Treharne Photographer

Leila Dante Hartley Writer

Elliott Rooney Illustrator

Camilla is a fashion photographer and one to watch. See her work in this issues fashion pages. Her favorite word is Kerplunk and she likes sniffing men’s armpits when they smell nice.

Leila’s one of our fashion writers. She likes Tim Key and Futurism and her favorite word is ‘nasty’. This issue she chatted to Claire Goldsmith about upholding the family business and loved Clark’s desert boots.

We came across Elliott whilst scanning the internet, as you do. He does wicked illustrations amazingly quickly and likes starting emails with ‘Da Daahh!

// ISSUE 25 . JUNE . 2009 \\


5. Jack Loves :

68. Behind the Velvet Rope :


Stylists of the rich and famous

7. Patrick Wolf :

70. Lets talk about Sex :

10.Pete Fowler :

72. Arthur Cadaver :

In a land of Monsters

The next chapter in the gripping tale

14. Sunglasses :

74. Undiscovered London:

Take your pick


18: Claire Goldsmith :

76. Summer Theatre

The Bachelor

The sunglasses heir in the frame

21. Review One Liners : Jack’s pick of tracks

22. Pick of the Month : Festival fashion items and lunch boxes

26. Male Saunas : One Jack writer puts down the towel and bares all


Best of round up

79.Pulling Power

Where to pick up girls, where to pick up boys next month

80. Jack Drinks:

In a daze ant the Derby

82. Jack Eats : Steak at Bodeans

83. Jack Says : 30. Fashion :

Places to go people to see

Tips from a teddy boy

43. Issues : A group of articles covering, you guessed it - Issues 44. Issues : Politics and News Blogging, a phenomenon worth following?

49. Issues : Charity

Looks at the growing trend of Charity events

52. Issues : Homelessness Prt 2 Prt 2 of Mike’s experiences when he took to the streets

56. Issues : Job Cut Fiction Adopt a banker

60. Jade : Queen of the underdog

62. The Pepys : Harry chats to the band


SHIT OF THE MONTH Our internet service providers go to the top of the list this week for being completely shit. We’ve conveniently had the site down for about four days as some may have noticed which was a great help. Furthermore it took three hours listening to Greensleeves and most of a day being disconnected from ‘Live Chat’ plus talking to five different people over the course of the four days to get it back up! Secondly children on tubes; I don’t think it should be allowed, especially not in large numbers. Ben Westwood’s recent exhibition is another one; we missed the free drinks, we missed the canapes and all we got to see what one piece of art - WTF? And finally the Diner in Camden for never having enough staff, never having their lovely roof top open and always being grumpy.

Editor/Creative Director : Lu Orcheston-Findlay : // Advertising : // Features Editor : Faye Heran : // Jack Stylists : / // Pick Of : // Comment : Adam Roan Henderson : // Photography : Camilla Treharne : : // Stewart Ruffles : Ruffles Photography : // LU-XX : // Barry Macdonald : : // Rachel Verma Contributing writers : Firgas Esack // Marco Casadei // Leila Dante Hartley // Ellie Rose // Josh Spero // Philippa Snow // Jonathan Sebire // George Newall // Mike Edmonstone // Philip Monroe // Joe Rowley // Lianne Slavin // Anne-Kathrin Oelmann // Harry Amos // Zoe Griffin // Ben Beaumont // Nicola Slavin // Rob Rowland // Illustrations : Chris Getliffe : // Jaki Jo Hannan : // B Brennan // Daniel Furlan : // Elliott Rooney : // Hair, Make up : Kerri-Anne Murphy // Sophie Smith // Models : Copper Blaze, Poppy Newman, Will Smith, Oliver Wilks Cover image : Jessica by Contributions : Thanks to : Ellie for lend of her flat, Ollie for wearing girls shoes. Who’s Jack Ltd All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part with out the permission of This is Jack. The opinions expressed in this magazine are not necessarily the opinions of Who’s Jack. This is Jack Ltd can not be held responsible for any breach of copyright arising from any material supplied

JACK L VES Yeah it’s a little bit of an ‘I heart NY’ rip off but it always looks good doesn’t it. This is what we are loving this month.


words : Leila Dante Harley

To celebrate the 60th Anniversary of the Desert Boot, Clarks Originals have created a six-strong collection of the shoe. The Desert Boot, invented in 1949 in Burma by soldier Nathan Clark has been styled and re-styled throughout the decades. The limited editions celebrate this with one style from each era: starting with 50s Harris Tweed, then 60s Liberty paisley print, 70s purple suede fringing, 80s denim, 90s Britannia and for the 00s, the classic Desert Boot made to the original specifications. Priced at £89 and available for both men and women, you’re bound to find the perfect pair for Autumn. Stockist number: 08444 777 744



The phone clicks on, then a low rumble buzzes; a haunting buzz saw not dissimilar to the rising sirens at the start

of Kreigspiel... “Hello, oh I’m sorry about this, I always do interviews on a Tuesday, which is also when the cleaner comes, hang on a second”, and with that we enter the world of Patrick Wolf.

Wolf words : Jonathan Sebire

Wolf has long been an esoteric icon for outsider

them spill out across your speakers. By contrast

music. The child prodigy prone to reinvention and

The Conqueror (2010) that will follow next year is

genre-melding flights of fantasy, from his debut

a far more euphoric exercise.

Lycanthropy (2003) through to the revered The Magic Position (2007) he has sought to constantly

“They are very much companion pieces”, Patrick

seek out pastures and sounds anew. It’s made

states, “Because The Bachelor was born out of a

him into one of the most interesting young artists

period of such confusion and madness. The Con-

working in music and he has delighted and con-

queror feels like emerging from that and having

founded critics in equal measure. Journalist Paul

faced down my enemies.” Indeed The Bachelor is

Morley was famously moved to produce a piece

a raging record, and quite a departure for Wolf.

of experimental writing when commissioned by

In concert he seems like a man reborn, there is a

tastemakers Drowned In Sound to discuss Wolf’s

newfound confidence coursing through his veins.

latest work The Bachelor. In fact, after a period in

For the new live show he up’s the theatrics and

the wilderness Wolf has returned two years af-

bizarre noir cabaret, fused with a new expression-

ter The Magic Position with not one but two al-

ism to back up this new sound. Darker, and more

bums that form companion pieces. The Bachelor,

powerful, like a bacchanalian ballerina performing

released in June, comprises 14 tracks rift with

a private dance. ‘I think whenever I come out with

conflict and twisted desire. It is a tumultuous col-

a new record there’s always this period of transi-

lection. A body of work that seethes, pulses and

tion where people are trying to figure it out, then

throbs, jagged and achingly raw at points, this is

the penny drops and it’s like OK so this is the new

the sound of Patrick Wolf taking a knife to the un-

Patrick’, he notes, considering whether he noticed

derbelly of the shadows in his psyche and letting

any sense of adjustment amongst his audience at 7

triumphant shows at Heaven and Koko where he

The Bachelor, escape from fear, from reality and

unveiled new material.

from the limitations of the self. It’s about breaking free from the yearning desires and doubt that

In conversation Patrick Wolf comes across as eru-

entomb souls in a constrictive bind.

dite, focused and shockingly self-aware. It is no wonder that he has explored the situations that he

Wolf is obsessed by relationships, from the rela-

sings about in a truly grass-roots way. ‘I believed

tionship with his audience, to personal relation-

as a writer you had to witness what you were writ-

ships and his own relationship within the celebrity

ing about. So I would seek out certain situations.’

world as focused on by the media. When asked if

It is this kind of exploration that led to lead off

there were ever times that he thinks the madness

single Vulture (2009), which delivers the telling

of touring could have killed him and whether or

lines, “Losing my head to Hollywood, my liver to

not he is wary about throwing himself back into

London and my youth to Tokyo, still on with the

that situation with an upcoming touring schedule

show.” ‘Well I was on The Magic Position Tour and I

looming into view, Wolf seems considered. ‘I think

was in America, I think I was doing the Jimmy Kim-

I’m a lot wiser now. You just have to avid situations

mel show and when you are living like that you

like that. You need to make the choice not to go

have to make the decision if you are just going to

back to those empty hotel rooms.’

go back to the empty hotel room and drink the mini bar dry or if you are going to go out and in-

The Bachelor also sees Wolf offering a unique

teract. So I went out in LA and ended up in some

funding scheme whereby fans can buy into the

interesting situations.’ Whilst the press release in-

album through a ‘Bandstocks’ option whereby

cludes the fascinating words ‘Satanic sex games’

they buy shares at £10 each and receive exclusive

for those situations the real point of interest is the

content and benefits. ‘It makes the relationship a

music that has come out of these experiences.

lot closer. I think the way people exchange music

Vulture represents a collaboration with sonic ter-

has changed for good and as an artist you need to

rorist extraordinaire Alex Empire, better known as

react to that. It’s very exciting.’

front man of agit-industrialists Atari Teenage Riot. It is the first collaboration that Wolf has done, but

That excitement has translated to The Bachelor

represents something of a watershed within his

which is by some way Patrick Wolfs most ac-

music, as The Bachelor also includes an appear-

complished work to date and wets the appetite

ance from actress Tilda Swinton.

beyond comprehension for the end of the year when it’s true context will be revealed by the ap-

‘London will always be home, it will always be a

pearance of The Conqueror, a pairing that should

part of me. You know I live in a house not far from

confirm Wolf’s ascendance to the upper echelons

where I was born. I think London has always been

of music royalty.

dangerous though, I have never been afraid of it. I think London is afraid of me.’ Announces Pat-

The Bachelor will be released on Bloody Chamber

rick when quizzed as to what London means to

Music in June 2009.

him. ‘It’s good to have somewhere to escape to though. Like PJ Harvey has Dorset, so I enjoy escaping to the country where it’s just me and my instruments’. Escape is an underlying theme of


To be continued..... by Daniel Furlan




When Jack’s George Newall met Pete Fowler words / image: George Newall


The mural, entitled Welcome to Monsterism Island is 800 squared feet of highly detailed illustration. There’s no central focus and the eye wanders freely round the image, observing everyday life on the mythical island. Huge smoky skeletons loom over the mountains, horsey sea-monsters wallow in the lake and a troupe of monsters parade through the greenery playing musical instruments. The world of Monsterism has its roots in Japanese illustration and draws on folklore and psychedelia. These diverse elements merge into a fantastical realm, somewhere between Woodstock and Mario’s Mushroom Kingdom. But Pete’s creation isn’t completely removed from ordinary life. ‘I like something that’s rooted in our world’, he says, ‘I always imagine the monsters to have quite human strengths and weaknesses. The island’s my way of seeing the real world – a lens looking back onto planet earth via some pretty complicated bounces of light.’ But some of his other comics show the self-interested and exploitative behaviour of monster musicians. I wonder if there is something more critical going on, aimed directly at the indie music scene? ‘I try to be more playful than critical’, he explains, ‘I want the characters I create to be of their own world, but I do bring in influences from the real world. They’re alternative versions of the kids you get walking round Shoreditch.’ Music is a huge part of Pete’s work. I can sense his enthusiasm talking about it. ‘I’ve always liked 60s rock and psychedelic and

I’m really big on electronica,’ he says. ‘One of my favourite bands is Aphrodite’s Child. They made three albums that were amazing. I will never tire of their music. It would be amazing to go back in time and do one of their album covers.’ But Pete reflects. ‘Actually their covers are so good anyway.’ Aphrodite’s Child feature on Pete’s first compilation, The Sounds of Monsterism Island (2005) – a musical time travel ‘from the early 60s up until contemporary.’ It’s a collection of previously released music that ‘sounded like it could come from Monsterism Island (or had something “monsteristic” about it).’ The album was an opportunity for Pete to put his own artwork to some of his favourite music. He’s just done a new compilation (with Lo Recordings) called A Psychedelic Guide to Monsterism Island (2009). This time all the material is original and the album art is the starting point. ‘I wanted to spin the first album on its head’, Pete says, ‘and actually get artwork together and present a world to musicians and get them to make music inspired from that.’ The album features music from Gruff Rhys (from The Super Furry Animals), The Future Sound of London and Jerry Dammers to name a few. Pete explains how the musicians reacted to the project. ‘People really responded to it. It was a chance for them to make something really freaky and weird. Jerry Dammers, for example, made a completely bonkers and great track. I was blown away every time we got tracks delivered.’ It’s not the first time musicians

have taken inspiration from his artwork. Pete did the cover for The Super Furry Animals album, Radiator. His images of mobile phones became a central theme in the band’s next album. ‘It freaked me out when I heard that’ he says, ‘It’s quite mad!’ Pete has done a lot more for the band, though. ‘Over the years I’ve created an ongoing, shifting visual identity for the band. They’re fairly camera-shy so I’ve created a face for them.’ But it’s a two-way relationship: ‘they’ve certainly inspired me as musicians’ he says, ‘in the same way that any music I love inspires me in some way.’ I ask Pete how music inspires his art. ‘I’ve always got it on in the background when I create’ he explains. ‘For me, music is all about feeling. If I’m in a certain mood, a song can inspire me to draw a certain something or use a particular colouring. There’s always something there with music that will inspire or motivate me.’ But what about visual influences? ‘I think if I immerse myself too much in the world of illustration I might see something similar to my work or something that’s totally blown me away and I might just want to go away and rethink everything. I have visual influences on my work, but I’ve made a conscious decision to be more open to music than going to tons of galleries.’ Pete has just done a TV pilot for an animated Monsterism series with Steve Coogan, Matthew Holness and Julia Davis. ‘Our co-production team was Baby Cow’ Pete tells me, ‘and through this we got access to Steve Coogan who’s the co-owner.’ He’s a massive fan of the three comics. ‘It was amazing

being in the sound studio with them. I was totally freaking out, pinching myself going, “why are they here? Oh yes, for my pilot. This is quite nuts.’ As well as the artwork, music and animation, there’s also a Monsterism clothes range and a set of designer toys. I ask Pete why he feels the need to be so multidimensional? ‘I like working in loads of different mediums’ he explains, ‘it all contributes something to making it a bigger, richer thing.’ But it’s more than just a question of expanding Monsterism. ‘I’ve got low patience thresholds’, Pete adds. ‘Sometimes I think, “I just want to paint”, but I’m sure I’d get bored. I like to keep it interesting.’ Ultimately, Pete’s a story-teller. ‘Characters are great,’ he says, ‘but if there’s nothing to a character it’s just a gonk. What I’m really interested in is the stories around them. Maybe if went back thousands of years,’ he imagines, ‘I’d be somewhere sitting around a campfire, telling stories. I’ve developed these characters; I’ve developed this world – now I just want to get into stories, telling fun, crazy, mad stories that reflect the world.’ But Pete can’t resist thinking of other outlets for Monsterism. I ask what his dream platform would be? ‘If I could design anything, it would be a hot air balloon. Maybe controlled by a character. And a theme park would be really cool..’ As we finish the interview, Pete’s completely lost in Monsterism Island.


























£ 1 2 0


images : Ruffles / make up : Sophie Smith / model : Copper Blaze

























words : Leila Dante Hartley

OLIVER GOLDSMITH, THE BRAND BEHIND THE FAMOUS FRAMES OF PETER SELLERS, MICHAEL CAIN AND AUDREY HEPBURN AMONG OTHERS, HOLDS THE MOST LUCRATIVE HERITAGE OF ANY SUNGLASSES COMPANY. WHO’S JACK CHECKED OUT THE CURRENT COLLECTION AND THE ARCHIVES AT THE NOTTING HILL SHOWROOM. CLAIRE GOLDSMITH WAS AROUND FOR A CHAT ABOUT HER FAMILY BUSINESS, ITS SUCCESS AND THE FUTURE. WITH A BACKGROUND IN MARKETING, SHE RE-LAUNCHED OLIVER GOLDSMITH IN 2005 USING A SELECT RANGE FROM THE ARCHIVE. SHE IS SET TO LAUNCH HER DIFFUSION LINE, CLAIRE GOLDSMITH, SOON. WJ: Could you tell Who’s Jack readers how your great-grandfather, Phillip Oliver Goldsmith launched his company? CG: Philip’s investor said in 1926 ‘Look, I’ll give you the money to start your glass frame business but what are you going to call it?’ He said ‘I’ll call it Philip Goldsmith’, but the investor didn’t like that so using his middle name, Oliver Goldsmith was decided upon. Philip actually died quite young and my grandfather took over the company when he was sixteen and ran it for the vast majority of its time. WJ: How did the idea of sunglasses come about? CG: My grandfather Charles was a true visionary, he came up with ideas that, no one was doing back then. He would take tinted glass and put them into a frame and called them ‘sun-specks.’ The concept was his and it really took off. Sunglasses had arrived in Britain. WJ: How has the meaning of the brand changed since the Sixties? CG: Very little actually. What we still value the most are beautiful, well designed frames and quality craftsmanship.

WJ: What eventually made production cease? CG: The company ran until the mid-Eighties. By this point it was third generation and my father wasn’t sure if he wanted to be doing it. Designer brands had started licensing their name and were appearing in the eyewear market, the competition was fierce. WJ: So if rival brands caused the demise of Oliver Goldsmith then, how can you compete in the current flooded market? CG: I think it took a twenty year hiatus for people to realise that the big designer brands names aren’t necessarily the best for a certain product. When it comes to eyewear, Gucci for example, are clothing makers, they licence their name to a company that churn glasses out of China. There’s nothing wrong with that but you have to ask yourself what you’re looking for in a pair of glasses. WJ: When did you decide to re-launch? CG: I was about 20 and at university when I decided but my family told me to finish and get a job. It was pretty frustrating. I needed to get work experience and I needed to have a job before I was able to run my own company. The marketing experience has really helped - I wouldn’t be able to do this now without my experience in business. WJ: In past years there has been a surge in popularity for vintage style, has this helped? CG: Definitely, that look has been around for about three years, so our launch was well timed. There are certain styles that we have that are simply timeless. But when you see a brand like Nike doing Michael Cain style sunglasses you know it’s a trend. WJ: How important do you think celebrity placements were for the brand in the fifties and sixties? CG: When Charles took over Oliver Goldsmith he noticed the big thing going on in cinema. There were iconic mega-stars in the making; Michael Cain, Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly. He managed to get in contact the stylists and wardrobe people. Now days that’s PR and product placement but back then it was a revolutionary way of thinking. That’s how we made a name for ourselves. WJ: Were glasses custom made for particular stars or films in the fifties and sixties, or chosen from the range? CG: If Givenchy were making the costumes for a Hepburn film, they would contact Charles to make a pair of sunglasses to go with an outfit. The celebrities would then come to the showroom, purchase more glasses and leave a message in the guestbook. Peter Sellers left his signature twice, along with a message ‘Thank you for your esteemed kindness and also for keeping me in line so to speak, eyewear wise’. WJ: Oliver Goldsmith provided Peter Sellers with the iconic glasses that he wore throughout his career. Did the stars define the brand or did the brand come to define the stars? CG: We were lucky enough to be able to place our glasses on such iconic faces as his but we can’t take any credit for the successes. We were very fortunate, back then everyone helped everyone else out so the brand and the stars grew together. WJ: How does this compare to now when celebrity endorsements can make or break a brand? CG: I don’t like celebrity and after reading Fashion Babylon with celebrities receiving car-loads of free products, we don’t do giveaways. Fortunately they have bought from some of our best stockists. Robbie, Kylie and Gwyneth have been photographed in our products but we haven’t had to pay for it. We don’t get as much as companies that do but our publicity is more credible.


WJ: Who have you custom made for recently? CG: Robbie Williams and Alan Carr are regular customers. Most of our custom made glasses are for influential members of society who are not necessarily famous but still spread the word about us. WJ: The brand is stocked in both boutique opticians and large department stores, where would you rather see the product? CG: I’d rather see Oliver Goldsmith frames in a boutique optician as the product will be sold properly. If you don’t know what you’re buying you’ll end up with rubbish. Our lenses are made from the same material as camera lens, our acetate is of the highest quality, sourced from Italy and our hinges are hypoallergenic. There’s a rock hard coating on the lenses so they won’t scratch. All of these details are what the customer should know but wouldn’t be told in a store. WJ: Let’s talk about the design process behind Oliver Goldsmith sunglasses. Did you originally plan to produce only the archived designs? CG: It was my original plan to release slightly modified versions of the old styles. As we’ve grown I’ve learnt more and more about sunglass design and now feel that we are ready for something new. Were looking forward to see what we can do in terms of development, a new generation of Goldsmith. WJ: Have you taken on a new design team? CG: Yes we’ve brought in Brian McGinn. He has been designing eyewear for six years but before that trained as a jeweller, then began hand crafting musical instruments. He has been absorbing what Oliver Goldsmith is about because together we’ll be launching the new range under my name, Claire Goldsmith. So you get that contrasted with Oliver Goldsmith, a retrospective, vintage collection. WJ: How much will the new designs rely on the old models? CG: There are certain things that are just right about Oliver Goldsmith sunglasses, like the balance and the weight of each frame. These learning’s from my grandfather’s designs will definitely carry over into Claire Goldsmith. Stylistically the materials we will use will be bolder. The big thing about Oliver Goldsmith was that they were using plastic, a relatively new material in the early forties, as supposed to metal. We are looking into how many materials out there could be used. WJ: In the current economic climate, why do people need bespoke tailor made sunglasses? CG: If you bought two frames at two hundred pounds each, ours will still with you thirty years later, still looking great and feeling great. The other pair would have fallen apart a year after you bought them. We get people writing to us all the time with anecdotal stories about buying their Oliver Goldsmiths’ the first time round. People don’t buy anything these days to keep, we live in such a throwaway society so our line of thinking is, we are making a pair of glasses to keep forever. Oliver Goldsmith offers both a ready-to-wear Classic Collection and a bespoke custom made service. Stockists: 08450 533 440

We aren’t overly keen on reviews at Jack as those more discerning readers may have worked out already. We figure if something is shit you just want to avoid it and if something’s meant to be good you want to have a listen to it. Simple. No big words, no patronising new concept music genres. Just weather its shit or shit hot. Now you can spend less time reading about tracks and more time listening to them. Below is the little code we have devised to help point you in the right direction BIN - bin it, it’s shit // Burn - bother to download it for a listen // BOOM! - of course, the highest rating.



BURN Crystal Fighters – Xstatic Truth. Perfect summer background music.

BOOM! Marina and the Diamonds – Obsessions. Just one example why this girl is on every ones lips. We can’t wait for her forthcoming EP. She’ll be colouring the summer with her Mary Quant Leotards. w w


BIN Flamboyant Bella – All of it. Getting a little bit bored of Lily Allen and Kate Nash fall outs...... If your under 14 you might like it.

JACK’S PICK OF THE MONTH Stand out with these Clavin Harris inspired sunglasses from Gio Goi £55.

Levis have been excelling themselves with summer wear for both boys and girls that’ll be sure to keep you looking like you should be in the VIP area of every festival. Siboney hat £30.00, West 2 sandals £69.99.

Continuing the ‘cool’ theme these rings are pretty cool from Jackie Brazil Large square “carre” ring (blue) £19.50. Galactic “cones” flat round £24.70.

Loving these white studded trainers from Firetrap. Ideal if your getting a bit bored of buying plimsoles every few weeks from Primark. Want a bit of a change? Well here you go. £40 from www.

We are falling head over heels for Galibardy enameled jewelry at the moment. Amazingly affordable and amazing designs. Stag Skull Necklace only £25.00!

Remi Roughe shows us his new style based on ‘The Odyssey’ at gallery Urban Angels. Surprisingly this will be Remi’s first solo London show. Runs from 12th June – 10th July 2009 11am to 5pm Wednesday to Saturday. The Art Lounge, Urban Angel, 41-43 Redchurch Street, London E2 7DJ Parks. Beautiful weather calls for BBQing and where better to do that if your devoid of a garden? A park. The top of Primrose Hill is especially nice with a convenient pub at the bottom providing that all important loo. PING PONG. I love Ping Pong but I was especially excited when I spotted on their web site that they have finally introduced a delivery service. Amazing!

Frisbee. Apparently there are rules? Find one in a corner shop near you. Jack favorite Social Suicide launches it’s first shop with an amazing deal in collaboration with the Weather. Yep, the Met Office have installed a temperature gauge in the shop and whatever the temperature reads is what percentage you get off suits that day! Go down there when its baking! Social Suicide 8 Ganton Street London W1F 7QP



The Lunch box. What better way to save on daily out goings. Bin the coffee on the way into work, don’t venture into the overpriced sandwich shop or worse still some deli for a full blown tenners worth of food. Instead put some thought into a little container to bundle into which everything you would possibly want to eat and drink throughout the day and better still buy it from a supermarket (much cheaper) and put it together yourself. Economy or what?! Next month, flasks.

For the ethical lot of you there’s this cooler bag from £9.99

For the person that googled ‘ Wonder Woman in Shoreditch’ and got to our blog this one should do at £9.99 from

For the kind of person that carries around a briefcase there is this tin beauty from Bridgewater £7.99.

For those that can never seem to get their five a day

If you just can’t be arsed to make a lunch box for yourself then Graze will do it for you. Graze deliver a nice selection of healthy snacks for a healthy price. £2.99.

Not sure where you’ll be eating your lunch boxes but we’ll be eating ours in the park. Whilst there we’ll also be keeping an eye out for another type of lunchbox but particularly ones wearing what we have decided is the best trend for boys this summer. The Danny Dyer Business look. Create your own Danny Dyer look by donning an Aertex (80’s variety works best) , some shades and loafers and your there. If you ‘re still unsure take some tips from our fashion pages.


MALE SAUNAS A Night At the Baths words : Philip Monroe image : Jaki Jo Hannan

It seemed daring to go when I proposed this article and it seemed dangerous the morning I intended and by the time I had had a couple of glasses of wine and some fairy cakes that evening it seemed desirable. After all, I’d been making the argument for quite a while that gay men didn’t freight sex with all the baggage that straight people did: to us, it was just a recreation; like watercolour painting is for the elderly. Only naked. I’d started to prove this by losing my virginity to a stranger I met in a bar in New York. So far, soul still intact. Plus, my enforced chastity was chafing. So fortified by my wine and fairy cakes, I found myself at Chariots; possibly the best-known gay sauna in town. It is preposterous from the outside, iron railings around a misshapen parking lot crammed with the sort of cars usually seen at parent-teacher meetings. The building itself looks like a cheap Greek restaurant; white pillars and ‘marble’ complete with a red neon OPEN sign.


Inside it’s like a sports club built in the seventies but never modernised, which is quite possibly the case. You pay your £15 and get two towels. At 11.30 at night, it seemed quiet. Half a dozen men were scattered throughout the several locker rooms, each one in the process of stripping off and temporarily hiding behind their small towel. After humiliating myself by taking my clothes off but forgetting to find my locker – and losing my expensive watch (it was in my shoe) – I padded through the bar, which had a bored barman and some patrons lounging on mismatched chairs watching the TV. Despite being the sort of man who would rather wear a boiler suit on a boiling day than go shirtless thanks to sporadic chest and back hair and what could never be a six-pack but certainly isn’t a belly, I wasn’t self-conscious. I mean, everyone else was just wearing a towel. Being in the company of other men where the expectation is so clearly ultimately of sex has a strange way of making you forget how slight you feel among attractive men at a bar. 27

And the men are attractive, by and large. There are certainly some older types, but few truly unappealing men. In fact, I am surprised by just how cute most of the men are, proving false any idea that only men who can’t get sex go there. It seems to be a recreation of even those for whom getting laid is no more difficult than turning up at a gay bar. All types are here: it’s a mix of ages and races and heights and weights and mannerisms and personalities. Up to the first floor, where I would say I prowled around, but that would sound too much like an animal on a hot trail. It’s again the exact opposite: because you know there is little chance of not finding someone you can slouch along the narrow corridors between the cell-like private rooms. Each room is no bigger than a couple of pub toilets and some have men reclining inside them already. There is no attitude since we’ve all admitted the truth just by donning our towel. You need to be alert, but not like a bloodhound - eyeing up every man in suspicion. Those who stand outside rooms, looking, tend to laugh and joke with others until they catch someone’s eye. It’s wordless, saving stupid small talk and chat-up lines. Of course, I ended up using words but then I can’t be quiet even in a sauna. Frankly, since it was my first time and I had just arrived, going straight into one of these rooms seemed like biting off more than I wanted to chew. Besides, I was still wary: there are many enjoyable ways of catching STDs. I had vowed to myself that I would only go so far and no further; perhaps through a vestigial trace of shame or self-preservation. Oral was the limit. After you pass through these corridors, which turn and turn again, you end up at some stairs leading to the second floor. Men pass up and down these slowly, since they’re narrow. I was thrilled by what I could see as the man a couple of steps in front lifted one leg for the next step. A small pleasure given what would come later. I knew no better. The second floor is surprising after the

dingy neon lights of the first. You step out onto a row of red loungers and into low, clean light reflected in a twenty-foot swimming pool. A man discarded his towel and dived into the pool. Behind the pool was an empty Jacuzzi. It was still early and what sounded like Rihanna bounced off the tiles and again off the walls. Instead of heading towards the pool, I turned right and passed by another Jacuzzi, this one occupied by a large man with straggly red hair, on his own. He lay back and looked restful. Past him was a corridor matted with the spongy carpet of a local lido – safety first (hence condoms are available at the front desk) – and on the left of this were several doors, the first two of which led to a sauna. Inside the sauna – a proper Scandinavian installation, with two tiers of wooden slatted benches and two stoves – it is almost pitch black, save a small orange light hidden by one of the corners of the ceiling. It is, of course, also very hot. One man, pale and paunchy, reclines on his towel across the top bench, his feet stopping just before two black men with taut bodies. I sit on the lower bench by the door, nervous of making my presence felt. After a minute (there is a slow but constant flow of entries and exits everywhere), a tall blond man enters and sits on the lower bench in front of the two black men. He turns around and runs his hand up the thigh of the one nearest the light and starts giving him a blowjob. This man kisses the man next to him while grasping his dick. It is even darker than before because the man is now right in front of the light, so there is just an orange halo around him. Everything is quiet. No one has asked or said anything. The fat man has left so I move up a bench and move next to one of the men. More confident I start to caress his ass but I sense he’s not interested, so I take the cue and leave. As I leave I hear one man say, ‘NOT yet.’ This seems typical of what I see else-

where: the communication is all wordless. A caught eye, a well-placed hand signifies that the game is on. It is almost eerie how quiet it is. For a change of pace, I head out to the Jacuzzi by the pool, abandon my towel and slide in. Something may or may not be happening. Two attractive, tanned men look occupied, but not with each other. Under the bubbles, it is hard to make out the dynamic. It is very relaxing, but I feel sure I’m missing something elsewhere. If you turn left out of the stairs, you wander into a room pitch black except for a row of small red lights strung along the top of the walls. Black cubicles swing open and shut and there are moans. I pass a completely unlit room – the glory holes? – and head for a room which is showing a tedious porn film; where some slaves in leather fuck under a glass table while their master tears the leg off a chicken, like a porn star Genghis Khan. On either side of the room are raised areas where you can lie back. Empty condom packets are scattered about. The movie is the only noise. When I take a look there later, three men are entangled. For a while I sit on one of the loungers by the pool. Two guys chat, one reclining on his side with his towel just covering his groin. Previously, this would have been the start of some fantasy, and indeed for someone it may have been, but you feel like you can’t disturb them. Is there some code which states you can’t fuck on the loungers? Dubious. It is more the sense that – just like anywhere else – people are enjoying each other’s company; it would be rude to interrupt. That is really what Chariots is like: somewhere where men associate, relaxed, without the outside world bearing down. I imagine it’s like a posh gentlemen’s club, which also has sports facilities. People bring and meet friends here and I can easily envisage coming here not even to have sex – just to relax, have a swim or steam or sauna. No one seems hassled, in contrast to the harried faces I passed on my way down Shoreditch High Street, desperate to enjoy themselves on expensive booze. Inside Chariots, all bindings are released. No pressure. No worry.

Still, it would be a shame to come this far and not come at all. I head back along the blue corridor and catch the eye of an attractive guy, shorter than me, smooth chest, who I guess is about my age, 25. I stutter some joke about not knowing quite what to do since it was my first time there and he says it’s only his second. I suggest we look in the steam room and when we see it’s empty, he says we should go in. The steam room is completely white with tiles and a wide bench running around. We sit down next to one another and my towel falls open. The guy takes this a sign and starts to blow me. I start masturbating him and then, unexpectedly, we kiss. I hadn’t seen much of that tonight, perhaps because it’s too personal, or perhaps because you’re otherwise occupied. A third man, grey, older, but still attractive, decides to get involved, cupping both sets of balls at once, complimenting us. He was uninvited, but not unwelcome. It doesn’t feel intrusive, and this is what makes the sauna so surprising – you can’t predict what will result or who will get involved. It shoots vanilla sex in the face. A while later and the guy and I are still going at it. I gently bang my head back against the wall as I come. He comes. I spit. The only other thing he says to me is, ‘Shower?’ After this, I relax for a while on a lounger, chilled and once again by myself. It happens so quickly, the encounter, and disappears the same. No ‘I’ll call you.’ Not even an exchange of names. Why do you need them? You’re not there to collect business cards. It doesn’t feel dirty, at least not in the bad way. I feel if anything liberated, and I understand what generations of gay men have seen in the baths – not just sex but relaxation and companionship, if only for a little while. It feels good to be a man among men. Chariots. 1 Fairchild Street, EC2A 3NS. Tel: 0207 247 5333


Taking tips from a Teddy Boy photography : Camilla Treharne styling Arti Mahakuperan hair & make up : Keri-anne Murphy



Poppy wears : White crop shirt - £25 - / Grey Blazer - £70 - / Dark blue shorts - Asos £21.75 - /


Ollie wears : Blue check trousers - Original Penguin £65 - Stockist - 01376504331 / Blue cardigan - £30 – / Blue blazer - £55 – / Beige Suede shoes - £28 –


Will wears : Pink suit – Samantha Edwards - / White shirt - Raf by raf simmons £110 - / Dark blue suede shoes – Vuduu £65 – / Watch - models own.

From left to right : Will wears : Navy bomber jacket - Polo Ralph Lauren £156 / Grey shorts - Original Penguin £60 - 01376504331 / Black loafers - £45 - / Sunglasses - stylists own.

Ollie wears : White polo top - Original Penguin £50 - 01376504331 / Red shorts - £30 - / White trilby Hat - £20 - / Grey plimsolls - Topman - / Brown satchel - stylist’s own. Poppy wears : Red white stripe polo shirt - Original Penguin £49 - 01376504331 / Grey trousers - £35 - / White shoes - stylists own.


From left to right : Will wears : White bold stripe cardigan - Lyle & Scott £87- / Grey trousers - £35 - tapered trousers - Acne £122 - / Telescope necklace - Fairytales and Post it Notes £25 -www.fairytalesandpostitnotes.c / Glasses: Editors own / Blue loafers: Blowfish £35 - 020 8421 7070 / Glasses editors own

om / Shoes - Vuduu £65 - / Glasses : models own. // Poppy wears : Fine knit cardigan - APC - / Black com // Ollie wears : Red cardigan - original penguin £65.00 - 01376504331.Grey shorts - £30 - / Pink loafers - £28 - www.


ISSUES..... There will always be

image : Elliott Rooney



Blogging the news: a phenomenon worth following? Joe Rowley, from the DFID’s Youth Reporters Team, provides an exclusive report from behind the scenes at the G20 Summit.

words : Joe Rowley images : Rahul Verma


Whether you love them or hate them, there is undeniably something uniquely British about the hack journalist. Nicotine-stained, sleep-deprived and (predominantly) male, the figure of the over-worked and underappreciated British journalist seems to tap into a peculiarity of the national psyche that values the protection the Fourth Estate gives us from the excesses of government and big business, whilst rating many journalists themselves second only in untrustworthiness to estate agents. But whilst the advent of twenty-four hour news channels and the demand by readers for increased online content have been blamed by the mainstream media for a decline in the numbers of traditional journalists, they have almost universally underestimated the influence of a growing group of people that are steadily increasing their grip on both what makes the news and how it is reported: bloggers. Take a stroll around the press area of this year’s G20 meeting of the world’s leading industrialised countries, and it would seem that traditional journalism is in good shape. Amid the bustle that comes with over 2,000 print, broadcast and digital journalists from around the world being gathered in one place, the hack journalist seem to be thriving. In almost every corner of the cavernous ExCel Centre in London’s Docklands - more an airport terminal than a conference centre - they were as you would expect; hunting for coffee, huddled together in the smoking area, complaining about the food or, occasionally, filing copy. But look closer at the massed media and you may detect the fresher faces of a new breed that have steadily increased their influence on the mainstream media since the launch of the first software in 1999 which allowed members of the public to easily create and maintain ‘web logs’ online. Over the last decade the explosion in the number of bloggers has led to the creation of well-connected and lavishly funded political outfits such as The Huffington Post (www., one of first blogs to employ professional columnists, and The Drudge Report (, the first to break the story of Bill Clinton’s affair with Monica Lewinsky in 1998. In recent weeks, the dismissal of Damian McBride, the personal advisor to Gordon Brown following the revelation on the Guido Fawkes blog ( of a planned smear campaign against members of the Conservative party, further underlined the influence bloggers now have to shape the news agenda of the mainstream media. The selection of 50 bloggers by G20 Voice, a partnership between Oxfam and the British Foreign and Commonwealth Office, to a certain extent recognised this influence as for the first time that bloggers were given the same access as major broadcasters such as the BBC and Reuters. Yet with the youngest blogger a mere 15 years old and the oldest over 60, the democratising nature of blogging frequently raises questions in the mainstream media about the qualification many bloggers have to pass judgement on major events. Sokari Ekine, a Nigerian blogger who was nominated by one of the editors of New Internationalist magazine, as well as fellow human rights activists in Africa, feels she is more than qualified to attend the event. Writing for the pan-African blog Black Looks ( which aims to promote human rights, social justice, women’s rights and the rights of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) people across Africa and the Niger Delta, Ekine said that the presence of bloggers with specific areas of interest and specific audiences is important in connecting with readers that may be overlooked by the mainstream press.



“I think that the opportunity for us as bloggers is that we all have a readership and it’s an opportunity for us to actually be at the centre and to pass on what we’ve learnt and the outcomes of the G20, as well as our own opinions and analysis onto our readers”, she said. “I know that in the Nigerian blogosphere a lot of people had been reading my blog to find out what I thought about what’s happening overall at the G20 so, just to get the message out to our readerships, is the most important”. But for some of the bloggers, having the same media accreditation as the mainstream media meant that far from merely reporting the news, they could begin to influence it as well. For Richard Murphy, a UK-based chartered accountant whose blog ( specialises in exposing the uses and abuses of tax havens by developed countries, being picked on by Gordon Brown to ask a question at the end of the summit meant that he could ask the British Prime Minister the questions his readers wanted answered. Speaking to a euphoric Murphy after the question and answer session, he said that it was important that bloggers used their specialist knowledge to put pressure on governments. “The question I asked was on tax havens which is an issue I’ve been blogging and campaigning about for over five years”, he said after the event. “I put my point to the Prime Minister and, although a lot of the other bloggers said that it seemed like he tried to duck the question, in all fairness I don’t think he did and it seemed like he was committed to tackling the problem.” “So it’s been a good afternoon for me and I think we’re making real progress on a campaign I’ve dedicated the last five years of my life to”.

It is precisely this ability to ‘tell the stories that the mainstream media doesn’t’ and create ‘grassroots action’ that Sam Graham-Felson, Barack Obama’s Chief Campaign Blogger during his campaign, believes justifies bloggers playing a more central role in political events such as the London Summit. Graham-Felson, whose campaign encouraged thousands of ordinary Americans to blog online to raise money and support for Barack Obama during his presidential campaign in 2008, said that it is the ability of bloggers to communicate with vast networks of people can only help to make politics more accountable. “One of the things we did during the Barack Obama campaign was to create an outreach program to a lot of bloggers, some of whom were at the London Summit, and really tried to treat bloggers like the mainstream media gets treated and give them access and information that they need as well”, he said. “There’s no question that Barack Obama was an extraordinary candidate, but what we did well was to harness that energy through blogging and turn it into something very productive that would help us win.” “At events such as the London Summit, I think blogging definitely has a role”. But not everyone agrees. Bob Geldof, the human rights activist behind the recent Live 8 concert, said that although blogging is important at the moment in creating a dialogue, he sees it’s influence decreasing as readers demand more fact-based journalism. “I think blogging is a passing thing”, he said. “I don’t think it’s important in the future, I think it’s important now. Fact always trumps fiction and I think there’s a filtration system in blogging where people who really have a smart intellect and a way of putting things get listened to.”


“That element will never go away with the web.” Much of the mainstream media agrees with this view. Jon Snow, the Channel 4 news presenter, said that although he’s a keen blogger himself, he remains sceptical of the role it can play during events where information is so carefully controlled. “What bloggers discover is that at events such as the London Summit, is that they don’t know any more than the conventional media”, he said. “They have nothing new to bring to light except their own prejudices, which I suppose is all that the mainstream media can bring to it too”. “The role for blogging is to be placed where no one else is. It is to be in communities both in the developed and the undeveloped world where people are not reporting and where information is not flowing.” “I believe in the blogosphere generally as a democratising process, but these summits are a conspiracy to prevent information getting out. There is no information. Nobody knows anything at all about what is going on”. Perhaps vindicating his view of the democratising process of blogging, it was not long before a taped version of this interview, uploaded onto the London Summit website (http://, had elicited strong responses from several of the bloggers who had attended the event. Shane McCracken, whose blog ( aims to integrate community projects with local government, and who also was one of the organisers behind the G20 Voice project, writes that Snow was ‘quite wrong in his assertion that a G20 Summit is no place for bloggers’ as bloggers often have

specific areas of expertise which makes them better placed to provide detailed commentary on events than the mainstream media. ‘Richard Murphy, our Tax Haven, expert was far better placed to ask a question and provide analysis on the G20 communique’s section on Tax Havens than anyone on Channel Four’s team’, he writes. ‘He is able to provide a more in-depth analysis of the tax haven issue then C4 [Channel 4] or the BBC because he has a specialized audience that want depth as opposed the broad-brush coverage the broadcasters have give their generalist audience’. ‘Bloggers are justified in having a place at Summits perhaps even more so than generalist broadcasters’. It is time for the mainstream media to acknowledge the extent to which the online community of bloggers, social networkers and campaigners influences news coverage. An example this month was Channel 4 News which for the first time used twitter, an online micro-blogging site, to get feedback from viewers on the chancellor’s budget. In the process they introduced a whole generation of viewers to terminology such as ‘tweeting’ and ‘twitterati’. Blogging is becoming increasingly more integrated with mainstream news and both bloggers and journalists alike should admit the extent to which they are already interrelated. It would be a mistake for either medium to attempt to distance itself from the other. With balanced reporting balanced against a vibrant, argumentative online community, it is journalism as a whole that looks to gain.

To read watch more exclusive reports from the DFID’s Youth Reporters team visit




Who’s Jack explores the current status of UK charities during a turbulent time, and the growing trend of charity events.

words : Lianne Slavin images : Obinna Monye /courtesy of the Lake of Stars Festival

It comes as no surprise to learn that many charities have been hard hit by the gloomy financial climate in recent months. With our collective disposable income at an almost record low, newspapers have been choc-a-block full of stories concerning the drop in donations and consequent job cuts for even major players such as Shelter and the NSPCC. The consumer refocus has arguably made charities victims of a system which places the emphasis on that spending which is likely to stimulate, and thus benefit, the economy (the effect of which is to sometimes cut across the Not-for-Profit lane). Of course we all know that charities are important and their work fundamental, but the hard truth is that when you’re strapped for cash, there’s a good chance you are going to want to invest in something where the benefits feel immediate. Perhaps this means a new book (reports suggest reading is on the rise in these recession-hit times), or a trip to the theatre (ticket sales for feel-good musicals are also apparently booming). You might think that in this environment those charities with a retail presence would do better than most, as people bring an ethical conscience to the notion of thrifty spending. But apparently this is not the case, as donations and spending are slowing ebbing away. As Oxfam’s David McCullough recently pointed out, even living economically and following the staid advice of budget fashion rags (i.e. keeping hold of your old clothing) can cost charities with a retail presence thousands. ‘If people are not buying new things, then it doesn’t create the moment when they clear out their wardrobe,’ he was quoted as saying in the Guardian. In other words, the give-and take cycle breaks down and there’s less to go around. All of this begins to sound pretty hopeless and enters the realm of the seriously bleak when you consider that, overall, UK charities are set to expect shortfalls of around £2.3bn this year*.




That’s a pretty pessimistic figure – surely there must be a way for charities to get us moving and our hands in our pockets? One potential answer – to both the issue of moving, and of putting hands in pockets – comes courtesy of the growing number of music-based events being hosted by UKbased charities. A natural step given the prominence of charity stalls at major-name music festivals such as Reading and V, many charities in the past five years have been involving themselves more directly in the hosting process. By providing attendees with genuinely exciting musical entertainment whilst at the same time directly raising funds and indirectly raising the profile of the charity, the situation looks to be win-win all round. Oxfam clearly thought so when they first launched Oxjam in 2006. In contrast to the overblown and hugely high profile Live Earth Concert, Oxjam invites members of the public to adopt a smaller-scale, hands-on approach to fundraising, asking them to host their own events with the official backing of the charity. “In our experience smaller events attended by people you know are more reliable fundraisers and more fun to organise than big events marketed at the general public”, they explained, thus directly referencing the importance of personal involvement, personal gain, and, of course, that personal sense of worthwhile achievement. Another charitable organisation which has successfully blended together music and fundraising is the Malawi-based (but UK-founded) Lake of Stars festival, a three-day event which bills African artists (such as. Joseph Tembo and The Makambale Brothers) alongside established Western acts (Groove Armada, Seth Lakeman) in aid of charities which in the past have ranged from The Microloan Foundation to Unicef. The added complication here is surely travel and the cost thereof. How well does Will Jameson, the festival’s founder, anticipate it will hold up? According to Will, pretty well – partly because, as he says, ‘one of the last things people are prepared to sacrifice is their holiday’, and partly thanks to previous successes which have helped establish Lake of Stars on both continents. Nonetheless, he confesses that the current financial climate is a worry. ‘It has affected things in terms of funding from sponsors as Malawi isn’t a big enough priority to them,’ he says, ‘but we are lucky in that we have already got support and our ticket sales were good enough last year that we can go ahead. That money we raised puts us in a strong position.’ By strong, Will isn’t exaggerating, as the festival was recently voted 9th best in the world by Horizon magazine. It seems to be something of a self-fulfilling prophecy, as past success is a crucial element when it comes to selling the festival brand and getting in those big names. While Will says that, ‘some acts emailed us along the line’, LOS is also able to actively pursue a number of top-name DJs and bands. Those acts that this year fit the bill are rumoured to be Basement Jaxx and Vampire Weekend. Paralleling the situation on the high street, it’s likely that those charities which operate on a smaller scale and budget are more likely to flounder than those that are more established. The recent announcement that 2009’s Red List Live festival has been

postponed – for a number of reasons of which the unfavourable current economic climate was key – is further suggestive that newer events put on by lesser-known organisations are struggling to generate the funds needed to get word out there. Perhaps the answer here is in organisations such as The Funding Network (TFN), and its youth offshoot, YTFN. Sometimes dubbed ‘giving circles’, both operate as informal platforms which offer charities – particularly those championing positive social change – the chance to present themselves to individuals willing to lend their ears, time and a fraction of their earnings. Representatives from approximately three charities present to attendees at YTFN events who have paid an entrance fee of approximately £15, and individuals then choose which of those projects to pledge £10 of that fee to. Ultimately a saving grace for those less-established charities itching to get themselves heard, the question is how YTFN themselves cope. Surely they have been hard hit by the credit crunch? ‘I feel it is too early to see the full effects of the current financial situation on this sector’, says YTFN Co-ordinator Tillie Sklair, ‘though it’s true that at our most recent event, we didn’t achieve the same financial results as we have in the past – which may be partly due to people being more conscious of spending’. Arguably, these misgivings point to something that is too often missed when it comes to assessing the effects a drop in overall donations actually have on the Notfor-Profit sector. It is worth remembering that when it comes to such organisations, it isn’t just about facts and figures for, as Tillie points out, ‘it is not about how much you give, but how active the donor is and how responsibly donations are invested’. Indeed, there are also the priceless offerings of time (that is, volunteer hours), and support (attending key events, spreading the word). ‘I think getting people involved in charities and charitable giving is the main aim of YTFN’, she concludes, evoking that coinage that every little really does help, and involvement – be it immersing yourself in the sponsorship side of a charity or attending a music event they put on – is key. * Figure from PriceWaterhouseCoopers, the Institute of Fundraising and the CFDC. (



words/images : Mike Edmondstone

Who’s Jack reporter Mike Edmondstone, follows up on his April investigation into Homelessness, in which he spent a week sleeping rough on the streets of London. For this issue he decided to go back on to the streets and speak directly with those who endure homelessness on a daily basis.




My experience of living on the street for only a week was an easy one. I was well fed, clean and I got enough sleep. But I wanted to find out why some people find themselves unable to get out of their situation and onto some kind of ladder of progress. In an East London park I found some answers. By no means are they representative of many homeless people: they do not touch on mental health problems, issues with language and immigration or any other reasons over what they are. But this is what I got from a couple of hours talking. There was Buzz, 37, Chalky, 41, and Quicksand, 26, and me with them sharing a mid-afternoon drink. Not undercover this time, my cards were on the table and they knew my agenda. To get to know these homeless folk and learn why they are still on the streets when the city’s facilities appear so accommodating. I had found through sleeping rough that the longest a healthy and ambitious person should be on the streets of London for is only about 25 days. Buzz, Chalky and “Quicks” did not look healthy and if they had much ambition they must have been keeping it private. “We are not well, you might say,” said Chalky, before closing the sentence with his’ “He he heh!” “We drink, it’s what we do, our thing you might say.” Chalky, the most articulate and open of the three, gave his story with little prompting. “I’ve a missus and my three girls living over in Shepherd’s Bush. I still see ‘em every couple of weeks or so. We all get on fine, you know, but it’s best not to see too much of each other. It’s the fuckin’ booze - I say things I’ll regret.” He told me how he used to be a successful amateur boxer in his early twenties. He trained in one of the East End’s famous gyms, Repton, and was about to turn pro when he had a motorbike accident and shattered his left leg. He started drinking and the rest is a hazy plummeting of fights, hangovers, social security cheques and booze-numbed regret. “I won’t be getting off the streets any time soon. I’ve been trying on and off for seven years, but I’m the bars of my own cage. I won’t allow myself to get out of this situation ‘cos I keep fuckin’ up and drinking away my chances. I don’t last in a hostel for long before they chuck me out.”


He keeps himself reasonably hygienic, using the drop-in centres like the Whitechapel Mission on Whitechapel Road to shower, shave and brush up. Many of the centres hand out free clothing on a daily basis and have washing machines. “The cold and wet nights are obviously a pain, but you get kinda used to them. Sometimes I get to kip on the sofa in a mate’s house, but mostly I bed down in my sleeping bag. I stay up on Kingsland Road most nights.” Quicksand’s drinking mates nicknamed him because of his stark self-destructive streak. They say he will keep sinking down until he kills himself. Defensive and confrontational, he kept smirking and then looking nervously at Chalky and Buzz for help whenever I asked him a question. “’Cos I ain’t got no home, do I,” he said when I asked why he is on the streets. After some pushing, he conceded; “I can’t really be bothered with them hostels. The people there tell you you’ve gotta have your lights out at a certain time, not shout about. It’s like prison or something.” It is clear he is the kind of person who does not know how to compromise. When being tried for ABH in 2001, he called the judge a, “Fucking dingbat” in the courtroom. No doubt that extended his 100-day prison sentence. Buzz, like Chalky and Quicksand, likes a drink. But he is trying to keep a lid on it and, counterintuitively, that is why he chooses not to stay in a hostel. “Too much temptation,” he says. And to be fair he kept sober in the park, drinking only one can of Strongbow. “I also don’t claim benefits. I know what I’ll spend the money on if I do. I just get by, surviving rough and trying not to drink. I also volunteer at a couple of the day centres. I like to keep busy.” Chalky, buoyant, Quicks, nervous, Buzz, sober and I drunk our cider and talked sport a while. Chalky closed the get together: “Right ho, we better go. Gotta see a man about a dog. You know. He he heh!”



words: Anne-Kathrin Oelmann images : Elliot Rooney

ADOPT A BANKER Bank-er” [bang-ker], - noun: A species of predominantly male gender that can be recognised by their trademark black (sometimes pin-striped) plumage. They can be found in any developed country where they largely settle in capital cities and other strategically important conurbations. In the UK, their natural habitat is the City of London. Their population has surged in recent years – however, as nature takes its revenge on any overpopulated species, they are now threatened by a plague called The Recession which is about to decimate their numbers. Always having a soft heart for the weak and disadvantaged, the government has therefore introduced a new scheme to ensure their survival: the ‘Adopt a Banker’ scheme. Good-hearted individuals and families are encouraged to take on a job - and homeless Banker in need - in order to give them a home, feed them and put them to good use until The Recession is over and they can return to their natural habitat. If you feel inclined, here’s our guide on how to go about adopting your Banker; Requirements As opposed to adopting a child, there are no formal requirements in terms of income, marital status, gender or sexuality. You will, however be tested for your potential track record of violence towards Bankers and similar species (estate agents, financial advisors etc.) Accommodation requirements are not very strict – a mattress and duvet will do. You can register online at How to feed your Banker Please be aware that the first weeks will be slightly expensive. By nature, Bankers’ digestion systems are geared towards the good and the expensive due to the abundance of champagne, caviar and truffle in their natural habitat. In order to avoid a complete shock to their system (which in the worst case can lead to sudden death) you will at first have to continue their diet, then slowly start feeding them more and more normal food until their body has adjusted itself to the same food as yourself. Generally, your Banker may prove very helpful in recycling your leftovers. (A word of warning: if you hold pets in the same household, expect potential pecking order fights about each other’s food.) Also, in about 50% of the cases foster families will have to expect somewhat irrational behaviour and awkward physical symptoms such as sweating and restlessness during the first week or two – don’t worry, this will most likely be due to the enforced cocaine detoxification and will ease gradually. (Unfortunately when choosing your Banker you won’t be able to easily tell whether they are intoxicated or not.) Strict don’ts However tempting it might be, Bankers may not be used for one-sided sexual pleasure (i.e. sexual harassment). Even though there’s no particular law referring to Bankers, there are laws against the sexual exploitation of animals as well as humans - and since Bankers fall somewhere in between the two it can be concluded that it refers to them also. However, the good news is that ‘harassment’ can be avoided by simply getting your Banker’s consent; so make sure you either drug or threaten them well enough so that they can always claim – when questioned - that they wanted it too. Also, we recommend to never exert public violence on your Banker. Be careful not to raise suspicion amongst neighbours (e.g. through bruises or screams) as you want to avoid an inquest by the RSPCB. Generally, try to


be kind but determined to your Banker and if you REALLY do have to get angry make sure it happens behind closed doors. Potential uses for your Banker You can use your Banker for any kind of manual task in and around your house. Gardening, cooking, car washing, cleaning, plumbing, ironing, assembling furniture, decorating, shopping – no job is too big or too small or too degrading. In fact, you will only do them good and build up their battered self-confidence by giving useful and challenging tasks that will give them a sense of achievement. Also, the acquisition of new skills will play an integral part in their re-integration into society - so try to keep tasks varied. Whether they will be able to provide any services that involve social interaction (babysitting, care for an elderly person in the household, party entertainment) will depend on their degree of social skills. Generally, Bankers are born with the same social abilities as humans but years spent in the City of London will have deprived them of inter-human relationships, resulting in emotional retardation and anti-social behaviour. Some will be more affected than others: the only word of advice we can give is to pay close attention when you choose your Banker - any signs of a smile, a handshake or even a ‘hello’ or ‘thank you’ from their part indicate that they are likely to have retained some social intelligence and might be more easily re-socialised. Maintenance costs Apart from accommodation and food, all your Banker will need is some clothing. They will probably come with an expensive garment which can, however be replaced with any clothing of your choice. Whilst the look is unimportant, please make sure that your Banker is sufficiently protected from seasonal climate – again, please remember that they are living creatures whose well being can be enforced by authorities. Warning Never ever listen to your Banker regarding any money-related matter – above all don’t ever give them any! Evolutionarily, Bankers have specialised in hunting for money and are known to have very sophisticated and deceiving hunting techniques – but always remember that this was the cause for the rise and fall of their species and must not be supported. Last but not least, we’d like to wish you a pleasant experience with your banker – enjoy the extra hours of leisure time that their help will allow you and also the warm feeling of your own charitableness that will fill your heart when watching your Banker grow stronger and more sociable over time. In case of any questions or problems please call the 24-hour ‘Adopt a Banker’ Hotline on 08457 666 6666. Also, we strongly recommend joining the social network where you can share your experience with other foster families, upload pictures of you and your Banker, and join local networking groups that are hosting regular events on bank holidays. Peace! Please note all web addresses and telephone numbers in this article are fictional.


words : Adam Roan Henderson image : Jaki Jo Hannan

JADE On the 22nd March 2009 England mourned the passing of one of its most unusual media celebrities. In her short life the larger than life figure of Jade Goody had come from humble beginnings in a gritty area of south-east London to become an omnipresent star of magazines and television. Jade first bounced onto our screens in 2002 the celebrity show Big Brother, giving us our first glimpse of her extraordinary lack of basic intelligence, which would later be kindly referred to as ‘naivety’. Her sexual shenanigans and dumb remarks led to her first taste of notoriety in the British press, with stories about her shoplifting past and her father’s incarceration splashed all over the tabloids. The public supported Jade despite this, and her long stay in the Big Brother house confounded tabloid campaigns to get her out with allegations of bullying and personal attacks. Her subsequent fame led to perfume and other endorsement deals netting her millions. Furthermore, Jade was asked to appear in another edition of Big Brother, this time as a celebrity. Unfortunately for Jade this did not go smoothly and she left under a cloud of racist remarks after referring to an Indian actress as ‘poppadom’, leading to the tabloids once again vilifying her. Why did this vulgar woman of limited intelligence capture the imagination and adulation of a great swathe of the British public, to such an extent that the Prime Minister felt it necessary to comment on her untimely death? In Britain we celebrate brains and talent; from the witty bon mot of Stephen Fry to the mindboggling time and space theories of Stephen Hawking, our greatest minds are national treasures. The talented sportsmen and women of our country also cross over into popular culture in droves with David Beckham’s legendary right boot and Jenson Button’s skills on the track leading to innumerable column inches in gossip magazines and tabloids. Jade’s lack of distinction in every category you can think of made her enormous public profile even more puzzling. Is it possible that it is her complete lack of exceptional features that endeared her so much to the British public? The rise of this ostensibly ordinary person on the street to such an exalted position in the media was probably due to the fact that she was just that, an ordinary person. Many people looked at her and thought, well if she can become so successful, then so can I. Jade was the Queen of underdogs and became an inspiration for many. The story of Jade took a dramatic final twist in early 2009 when she was diagnosed with cancer. You could argue that the battle with cancer is something a very many families go through every year, but having such a public figure be so open about her plight was heartening. Jade put a spotlight on cervical cancer and screening figures have increased dramatically. When she eventually passed away the many tributes from public figures such as David and Victoria Beckham emphasised the impact she had had on the country, with Gordon Brown praising her as a “courageous woman”. If Elton John had adapted a well-known song for a gushing tribute it wouldn’t have been that surprising. However you look at it Jade Goody made an unlikely hero. Aesthetically unexceptional, cerebrally challenged and with a staggering lack of cultural awareness her appeal is hard to fathom. Whether you believe Jade is an appropriate role model for society to look up to is rather missing the point. Just when everyone thought the Jade Goody show was over, she proved her critics wrong with her final act. Despite Jade’s natural talents, or lack thereof she managed to use her fame to raise the awareness of cervical cancer, potentially saving many lives and for that alone we should respect her.


THE PEPYS words: Harry Amos images: Ruffles

There are few things that British kids do better than cynicism. A nation with such unequalled reserves of creative energy, it is both our blessing and our curse to be afflicted with such an acute depth and breadth of biting self-criticism. Harry meets The Pepys.


I say its a blessing for when movements like Nu-rave come along; energetic, exciting, brave, yet altogether creatively and musically empty, the bloodhounds of our better natures are quick to deride and dismiss, even while the wave of acclamation grows. It is our cynicism as music fans and cultural spectators that kills off those sounds and movements that deserve to perish and preserve those which deserve to be remembered. Bands such as Joy Division and The Clash loom large in our minds today, hugely out of proportion with their size and ambition at the height of their creativity, and this is because we, as a critical body, hold them up as a standard. Yet, this rigorous process of self-analysis is also a curse. It is a curse because it is so Stoic in the face of genuine artistic enthusiasm, so distrustful of excitement, of confidence, of speed, of naivety, that it often passes terminal sentence on the budding hopes of bands and music that demand, if not respect, at least attention. How many movements and bands have stumbled under the weight of dismissal for our own paranoia of having the wool pulled over our eyes? I only say this because I actually looked into the face of ‘genuine artistic enthusiasm’ when I interviewed ‘The Pepys’ and all I could think about during the interview was how their every considered, measured, intelligent response to my questions spoke of a band that took one look at the connotations of the term ‘unsigned act’: unpolished, cold-heartedly ambitious, gasping for success; and good-naturedly upturned all those expectations. Jamie, who sings and plays guitar, talked about the growth of the band from a group of school friends messing around and enjoying their music, “we’ve been playing a long, long time together, since about 15”. The boys themselves, and there are four of them: Jamie, Oli (bass), Chris (drums) and Ant (vocals, gutar), are born and bred Brockley, South London, and when I mentioned that Brockley is more famous for its knife-crime than its rock and roll, the boys joked, “yeah, we’ve never played a gig in Brockley, don’t think there is anywhere to play a gig in Brockley”. But perseverance is a quality of sorts, and the band came together in an organic sort of way, according to Ant ,“it happened quite naturally, we always used to jam together but we never really got it together till we all got back from University”. When the boys did get back from university, all having read their degrees in the arts, they approached their music with a keen sense of purpose, with ambition and with an eye for a scale. “People in London see guitar-music as almost ‘sub-artistic’ but its just too flippant to say that”, offers Ant. Jamie, who did Sculpture at university in Edinburgh, talks of the incorporation of “kinetic sculpture” into aspects of the bands performance, and all agree that all members of the band “are active songwriters”. Indeed there is more than a little of the struggling artist to The Pepys, every one of the boys is working through their student loans in support of their art, every one has made extraordinary sacrifices in terms of time, effort and expenditure, and for what? Success? Fame? Ant defined it best I think. “As long as you get there and you’ve got a crowd, and they enjoy it, then that’s what its about”. The bands tragicomic anecdotes about traveling around on tubes with enormous amps, and sometimes making a financial loss by playing gigs, only served to sharpen my respect for their commitment. However, what I found most striking about that almost anachronistically simple ambition, was that the band is actually, genuinely, excitingly good. Their music has that rushing, forceful, guitar driven sound that is so very British,

and the cold-hearted, laconic spirit of tracks such as “Cheers to baby Harlem” and “Life doesn’t frighten me” could only come from that long-suffering, fevered love affair that we all feel with London at times. “We have every confidence in ourselves” they will readily admit, “but we like that kind of tongue in cheek idea that ‘I’m not frightened by life’ when, in fact, you are”. That kind of endearing bravado is manifest in everything The Pepys do. Previous critics have done, what critics do, they have earnestly tried to compartmentalize the music The Pepys make: “A lot of times they don’t know what they are talking about, they’re like ‘imagine the Maccabees from South London’ they actually are from south London!” After meeting the Pepys I can honestly say I have my doubts about that journalistic technique. It seemed to offer a brutish generalisation about the music the boys were trying to make. The band, while being the first to acknowledge their predecessors and contemporaries, are insistently self-contained. Jamie: “we’re friends with a lot of bands, we love the community, but our sound is our own” Oli: “we don’t really see ourselves as part of a movement” Chris: “we don’t really worry about that, we just want to go on our own course” Ant: “our music wasn’t made for anyone”. “Really? It’s never in the back of your mind, when you’re making a song, you’re never wondering ‘will people like this?” “I think with some songs, definitely, we were like ‘people are gonna’ love this!’” It was obvious that for all their vision and their ambition, there is still that endearing element of happy coincidence to the music The Pepys make, (‘Life doesn’t frighten me’ was recorded on Garageband in Jamie’s flat) and that fecund youthful confidence was invigorating and infectious. Although the band are eager for an opportunity to sharpen their collection of songs in the studio, they are adamant in their perception of themselves as a band best appreciated live, “You can get really complacent with recorded music”, “you can only get that sense of immediacy when you play live” That’s not to say the band don’t have a few horror stories about playing shows in England. “Some Places in London you’d be lucky to make a Tenner… the promoters and clubs don’t really care… they treat you a lot better in Paris, like your providing a service” but the boys seem to take a combative pleasure when offering these stories, “we definitely enjoy playing London”. It gives credibility to their claim that their greatest ambition is to “keep playing and keep writing”. Too often bands like the Pepys don’t make it through the cheese-grater of critical opinion their lack of conceit, their earnest enjoyment of what they do, their enthusiasm and their ambition are qualities that many would dismiss as failings. The crudeness of manufactured rock and roll has deadened all our perceptions of enthusiasm in contemporary music and it is bands like the Pepys, bands of genuine quality and reserved intelligence, loath to pursue any particular image or attach their own fortunes to the success of others, it is these bands that get missed. I can’t remember which one of the boys said this, my Dictaphone isn’t that good and Proud Galleries was very noisy, but it could have been any one of that thoughtful quartet: “You can see when someone is really into something, and that’s what you need, that’s the immediacy, that’s the Art”.


We take new things and we make them cool. Get in touch.



Behind the velvet rope words : Anon

Number of parties - 30 (20 in two days over Glastonbury weekend and then a couple a week. June is about quality not quantity) Best parties - Glastonbury (at 4am in Little Boots’s winnebago), Terminator: Salvation premiere (Christian Bale is even hotter than Arnold Schwarzeneger), Centre Court at Wimbledon cheering on Andy Murray (his fitness over-rules his moodiness)

You might think there wouldn’t be many velvet ropes in a field, but this time last year I learned it is more difficult to find out about the most exclusive after-parties at Glastonbury than it is to get onto Microsoft tycoon Paul Allen’s yacht in Cannes. Of course, I eventually got into Kate Moss’s winnebago, found Orange’s hospitality area with widescreen TVs where Lily Allen was watching Audrey Hepburn movies and blagged my way into Camp Kerala where VIPs sleep in Teepees costing £8,000 a night but it was a lot of effort - even for a gorgeous girl like me decked out in pink hunter wellies and a cute sundress. I was totally out of my comfort zone, there was no fixer available to pay for info so I had to find help.

Step forward the person that says they are a stylist. I discovered that at every single cool party, there was always someone on hand to touch up the host’s outfit and be a never ending fountain of compliments. Whenever the conversation dropped, this was the person who would be livening things up with inane shouts of ‘major’, ‘fierce’ and ‘SEXXXXXY’ while probably groping the person they were complimenting. Or at other times massaging their feet, which I saw Gossip singer Beth Ditto’s ‘stylist’ do one night round the campfire at Glastonbury - not a pretty sight.

People claiming to be stylists can be divided into two groups. This column’s going to focus on the more approachable type - the ones that don’t have any fashion qualifications, can’t discriminate between a Mulberry and a MK One and get their bling from Argos rather than Asprey. The only reason they call themselves stylists is their famous mates who’ve put them on the payroll need something to tell their tax advisors. The other type of stylists do know more about fashion and are harder to get in with because -shock, horror - they often have proper work to do.

So, how can you distinguish between the workers and the wannabes? Sometimes, it is screamingly obvious. Amy Winehouse is not known for her fashion sense, bless her, but one of the people stood at the side of the stage during Amy’s set at Glastonbury in 2008 said she was there because she was the singer’s stylist. On stage, Wino was wearing tatty white denim shorts and a vest. I was utterly perplexed until Amy came off and the two had a conversation about some girls they both went to school with. It all fell into place - I don’t think the mate got her job because of her fashion credentials. 

Another way to separate the fashionistas from the followers is to use direct questioning. Ask them for their favourite designer from  the Paris spring/summer shows and see if they hesitate. Get them to explain the difference between a puffball and a pencil skirt. And question them about how many celebrities they’ve worked and what look they did for each celebrity. If they can’t answer you, they’ve got as much right to call themselves a stylist as Peaches Geldof does to call herself a talented TV presenter

And then if you wanna do more detective work, try AQA text message service.  Simply text ‘who is + name’ to 63336 and you’ll receive a text back within minutes detailing key moments from the named persons life. If that text doesn’t mention styling, it gives you a bit of a clue. Or text ‘who is the stylist for such and such a celebrity’. If AQA can’t answer your question, that’s another sign.

Yes, faux stylists annoy me but I secretly love it when I meet one because it is easy to play them to get invited to more parties. As these people only work for their mates and consequently only receive one salary, they are open to the possibility of more work. Tell them you know someone famous, pretend you’ll talk more about it at the next event and wait for the invites to come trickling in.

Another time, I got in with the token stylist mate of Joss Stone (when Joss was still cool) by giving her some of my cast-off clothes. Bearing in mind these people have no qualifications, you can donate some of your oldest t-shirts and out of shape jeans and claim it’s vintage. The girl was so grateful for the items that were otherwise destined for the charity shop or maybe even local dump, she let me tag along with them to a few parties. I think I came out better in that deal.

The only rule to bear in mind with stylists that suck is to move onwards and upwards as quickly as possible. They are only at parties through a vague connection to one celebrity and if they argue with that famous mate they are out on their ear. Use them to get into one party - two if you’re desperate - and work that room until you find someone more connected. It’s much better to hang out with people can afford the champagne rather than blag it. I’ll identify those types next month.

Showbiz kisses,


So what did I achieve this month? Champagne - less than 20 glasses (the Glastonbury etiquette is hard liquor swigged from hip flasks) Pink Things - Pink Hunter Wellies, Pink Hooded Fleece,  Chocolate - Magnum ice cream during a rare spot of Sunshine at Glastonbury, Galaxy Minstrels at the Terminator premere Dresses - Hot pink dress from Wale Adeyemi’s ladies wear label Duke & Duchess Men -  Rock Gods Damon Albarn and Brandon Flowers. Men that play music are so attractive



can’t help but smile as I notice that once again, it’s that special time of year when a young girl’s fancy turns to all the simplest and most inexpensive joys in life – the first day of summer, for example, or the thrill of sitting around an open fire on the beach just after a peach-pink sunset, or, say, giving regrettable but enthusiastic head to a stranger in the bathroom of a Shoreditch boozer with little or no consideration of the consequences. Oh, the follies of youth! (At this point I was going to attempt to pull the rug from underneath you and reveal that actually, I wasn’t talking about the summertime at all, but actually the recession, which I thought you’d all think was a suitably tortured segue into the article, but there’s no way I can do it in a way that isn’t as heavily signposted as the bit in The Sixth Sense where we realise Bruce Willis is dead. If you’re writing me an angry email now telling me that I’ve just spoiled that film for you, by the way - hello, and welcome to 2009! I trust you’re enjoying Lady Gaga and HD television.) Regardless, I wanted to talk to you about the economic downturn, and the impact that it may or may not be having on our sex lives – sex is after all, the most fun you can have with your clothes off, and haven’t you noticed that clothes are getting bloody expensive lately? The media is keen on pushing the idea that we’re all spiralling into another free-spirited, spirit of (ahem) ‘69 “summer of love”, disregarding capitalism and all of its shackles by casting our scruples aside and rediscovering the transcendental wonder of screwing each other like rabbits. It’s one big love-in, Western World, and you’re all invited! Except the absolute weirdoes of course, but then the sales of sex-toys are soaring, so it seems that everyone’s happy! Let’s all forget about the fact that we can scarcely afford a tin of baked beans by caressing each other’s bronzed, sculpted bodies and braiding daisies into each other’s bushes and shit like that, yeah?

But, here’s the thing; sex, granted, is not expensive. It isn’t free for those of us who use non-chemical forms of contraception, granted, but a shag, on average, is probably as inexpensive as a go on the pub quiz machine, and requires far less general knowledge about football teams and the early cast-members of Coronation Street. People, however, can be expensive. And they can look shit without the superficial veneer of capitalism all over them, at least by societal standards. Think about a world without access to good-quality razors, decent clothing, make-up, hairdressers, anti-dandruff shampoo, waxing salons, gym memberships, nutritionally-balanced food, Pilates classes, etc, etc. Feeling horny? I thought not. Strip, in your mind, a well-known Hollywood actor of his hair-plugs, his California tan and his personal trainer. Deny a Hollywood actress her hair extensions, acne treatments and DD breast augmentation. A sprinkle of the fairy-dust is gone. In truth, our modern ideal of what it means to be Sexy - with a capital S - relies so far on artifice that with our economy going down the drain we’re left with only two options. The first is to be so aghast at the idea of a world without the perfect Brad and Angelinas we’ve constructed, Frankenstein-like for our own illicit fantasies that we completely selfdestruct, retreating into celibacy and eventually dying out like the freaky, outdated dinosaurs we are. The second is to get the hell over ourselves, place our naked and unaltered faces and bodies at the mercy of the rest of the general public, and, for the pure and primal joy of being alive, go forth and multiply with each other like greasy, unashamed, spit-end-ridden monkeys. Which one of these comes to fruition is entirely up to us. (I don’t want to be cynical, but I’d stock up on that expensive conditioner, just in case. Guys don’t make passes at girls who use the two-in-one stuff. Or something.)


words : Phillippa Snow


image : B Brennen words : Marco Casadei

30 April 2009 He sits there eating a kebab, stinking up the whole fucking bus. He is using up a seat next him with a rucksack and listening to headphones while adamantly looking out of the window to avoid any unnecessary confrontation. I did notice however that he occasionally fires off a glance to indicate he is in fact protecting his seating passive aggressively and does in-fact KNOW that he is being a cunt. I wander up the aisle of the bus towards him. His kebab lubricated lips get stuck into another sliver of undoubtedly quality meat from a late night Camden kebab shop. I think about smashing his headphones into his ears but feel this is an overreaction, so I walk past and stand in the centre of the bus. My adrenaline is high and I reach instinctively for my only escape; which is currently set to shuffle. I skip the rockabilly, the Pixies, various jazz and stick with The Crystal Ship by The Doors. “Before you slip into, unconsciousness, I would like to have another kiss”. Did Morrison stare death in the face like I see our mortality so fragile in bitter hands? Had he ever known what it felt like to have love ripped from your heart and desecrated in front of your eyes? Is it really better to have love and lost than to have never loved at all? Fuck Morrison I want to know what Manzarek thinks. I look up and out of the bus window, expecting amber street lights but see a dazzling brightness framed like the picture of a television set and I smell perfume. I look around and almost see the stench of the kebab winding at me like an effluvious snake from the devils rectum. I turn to my left and see a barrage of guys, none of which looked inclined to wear such a sweet smell. I look at the bright white out of the window and I smell her perfume and do not look away in fear that I will lose it again. The bus halts and my daze is broken as I disembark and stroll up the slight hill to my abode. The blossom in the trees is in full swing and I stop to take in the beautiful flakes of pink and white. In an instant I feel pain similar to cramp with a blade carve up the back of my neck and to the left of my brain. It’s so unbearable I kneel on the pavement in an almost religious pose, staring through the branches at the brightest star coming directly towards me. The light blinds me and I feel intoxicated with sickness. There is no darkness, only shades of white and the sweetest smell. Awake My eyes are open but the light is polarised black and the air smells sterile. There is almost perfect silence which makes me think I am certainly not at home as the mouse I have killed so many times still scavenges my house for food. A living parody of myself! I want to laugh but find this unfamiliar environment concerning. I can’t move my legs or arms and I feel a dull ache from just below my chin. I am tired and I close my eyes. I wake with the sun shining though my curtains and the smell of summer fast approaching. I have a desire to be positive today and the green bamboo like plant on my mantelpiece looks strong and healthy. I grab the controller and press play on my CD player.



Visit and you are immediately presented with the abrupt declaration, ‘for the residents of Harringay - that’s Harringay neighbourhood, NOT Haringey borough.’ While seemingly pedantic, it does display the affection with which the residents of this north London area feel towards their territory. Harringay is mainly formed from the grand parade; a mile long section of commerce running from Manor House to the south and Turnpike Lane to the north. Off this backbone runs a series of residential streets extending like ribs, colloquially known as the ‘Harringay ladder’. The southern end is dominated by the verdant appendage of Finsbury Park. For centuries Harringay’s residents consisted mostly of cows and pasture; its only urban features being Green Lanes and Harringay House. The extensive Green Lanes was a main route for livestock to get slaughtered in the meat markets of London. It exists today as London’s longest road, running from Newington Green to Turnpike Lane and still is a main route for clubbers to get slaughtered in the meat markets of London. During the mid nineteenth century, London rapidly expanded in all directions, the grounds of Harringay House were consumed by the British Land Company and regurgitated as the Grand Parade, while the cattle were replaced with people. The centre piece of this new development was the impressive art noveau Salisbury Hotel, which retains it’s original features strangely thanks in part to it’s neglect during the 20th century. It was sympathetically restored in 2003 and is now a pub held in high regard by beard stroking ale enthusiasts and hosts great underground music nights.

Unfortunately during the later half of the last century, the area developed a poor reputation. This was mainly due drug gang clashes – one of the UK powerful heroin dealers was located here - and a lack of local resources. In recent years though, there has been an injection of money and enthusiasm into the area and it is leaving it’s blighted past behind it. Today, the area is known for it’s multicultural mix of Turkish and Kurdish communities with the odd dash of Greek Cypriot. They give us a fantastic range of shops and food. Along the parade there are many mini supermarkets, providing a bountiful selection of food and vegetables 24 hours a day. Towards the southern end there is the forgettable Arena shopping area which has a selection of the usual suspects - Sainsbury’s, Homebase, Next et al. Green Lanes’ famous kebab shops look no different to the greasy neon pits we’re used to in the rest of the capital, but go inside and your treated to the real business - charcoal grilled, fresh bread, homemade sauces and salad that doesn’t resemble snot. The finest example comes from Antepliler, which also provides a full selection of Turkish meals. Next door is it’s sister shop, the Baklava Salonu which specialises in making the finest sweets. As an alternative to Turkish cuisine, there is the fine La Viña tapas restaurant on the neighbouring Wightman Road. Having stuffed yourself with food you can walk it off on a choice of local walks. The Northern Heights Parkland Walk follows the route of a disused railway rack from Finsbury Park to Highgate. It is London’s longest nature reserve walk and provides an abundance of nature along side some fine examples of graffiti. Following the canal system, the New River Walk is just a small part of an extensive national network of canal paths. Around Harringay, a manageable section starts from Finsbury Park and ends near to Alexandra Palace. Finsbury Park itself is undergoing a renaissance, having been granted lottery funding in recent years. It is home to an athletics track, boat pond and an impressive selection of children’s play equipment. Harringay is within easy reach of central London. Manor House tube station to the south of the neighbourhood is on the border of zones 2 and 3, Turnpike Lane to the north in zone 3. Alternatively you can catch the Victoria Line to Finsbury Park station and take a stroll through its namesake. Green Lanes is serviced by buses 141, 341 and 29, while Harringay Green Lanes station is bang in the middle of the area for those arriving via over ground train. Salisbury Hotel >> 1, Grand Parade, Green Lanes, N4 1JX Antepliler / Baklava Salonu >> 46 Grand Parade, Green Lanes, Harringay, N4 1AG La Viña >> 3 Wightman Road, N4 IRQ The Northern Heights Parkland Walk >> www.parkland-walk.


THE BEST IN SUMMER THEATRE words : Nicola Slavin




Say the words ‘London theatre’ to a tourist and you can imagine what they’ll be imagining – London’s West End; all glittering lights, ridiculously overpriced seats and ridiculously overpriced alcohol/ sweet stuffs (my advice: if you’re going to a West End theatre always smuggle in the Maltesers. And never bother buying a drink, unless you think £7 for a glass of wine is a reasonable amount.) Luckily there is, of course, much more to the capital’s theatrical offerings than overblown musicals, Shakespeare and Jude Law-types. Inventive theatrical venues like The Space on the Isle of Dogs, collaborative community-based spaces such as Camden People’s Theatre and a significant amount of theatrical activity housed in fabulous old buildings – from a mortuary (The New End Theatre in Hampstead; unsurprisingly it’s said to be haunted) to a Victorian church (St Stephen’s, also in Hampstead) and a large number of pubs (but surely the wine won’t cost £7 a glass in The Finborough?)

So because there is a LOT of stuff out there to sort through we thought we’d give you a little helping hand for the coming months with our summer roundup... Let’s start with The Finborough then. The Finborough is mini: a little room above a pub just off Warwick Road, it has 50 seats and debuts new works as well as staging old classics. Its summer season includes the world premiere of Death of Long Pig (four weeks from 7th July) – a new play about the writer Robert Louis Stevenson battling with death, set on a Polynesian island. Sounds cheery. But as it was written by Young Ones actor and co-founder of The Comedy Store Nigel Planer it is quite probable there will be some laughs in amongst the hungry spirits. The Etcetera Theatre in Camden is even mini-er – apparently it is the capital’s smallest. Another pub theatre, it has 42 seats and can be found in a small function room above The Oxford Arms on Camden High Street. It is obviously a very intimate venue, giving it great Fringe Theatre kudos, and indeed the big summer event is Etcetera’s fourth annual Camden Fringe – a big deal of an event that will see 100 shows take over 4 venues, including Etcetera and neighbouring venue The Camden People’s Theatre. The Camden People’s Theatre is interested in movement and visual performance styles – so highlights of the Camden Fringe will include new productions by the Punchdrunk-inspired Lazarus Productions. Also the aptly named Get Over It Productions – who describe themselves as a, “physical theatre company of six salaciously tasty women, ranging from 17-40 years old, and of all shapes, sizes, skills and talents” – will be hitting up the Fringe. Their last production was an all-female version of Hamlet. No news on the specifics of their summer show at the time of writing but with a description like that they’re bound to bring all the Dita Von Teese fans scurrying up to Camden for the festival, which runs from 3rd – 30th August. Who needs Edinburgh? The afore-mentioned Lazarus Productions have also recently finished playing The Blue Elephant Theatre, which is Camberwell’s only theatre. Yes, really. Tucked away and looking more like a house, it nevertheless does what you’d want an only-theatre-in-the-area to do, namely stage everything from physical theatre to dance to new writing. The finale of its summer season is The Sound (16th June – 11th July), a new play by David Mercatali set in an army barracks where five people gradually become convinced that they can hear a sound coming from somewhere nearby, which of course creeps them all out. Very Blair Witch. Back in North London another pub theatre, The Old Red Lion in Angel, stages Nevermind (16th June – 4th July), a play about an NME journalist who is attempting to write a biography about and simultaneously being haunted by Kurt Cobain. Could you tell from the title?


So far, so sounding slightly depressing, however I am particularly excited about Naked Boys Singing at The King’s Head Theatre (which you may guess is another pub venue, this time in Islington). This title is also apparently not misleading. It features naked boys. Singing. In other words, “it is a musical comedy revue featuring an original score of 16 songs celebrating the splendours of male nudity.” You can see naked men singing until 5th July. Moving from nudity to theatre classics, The Arcola – London’s largest theatre studio, a fantastic venue with a blinding bar housed in a converted factory in Hackney – is staging Henrik Ibsen’s Ghosts from 22nd July – 22nd August. Although in keeping with its commitment to new writing as well as the classics, they are also staging the London premiere of Dirt, a monologue piece performed by an Iraqi immigrant by the name of Sad. There’s more classical-type stuff going on at St Stephens (that Victorian church in Hampstead) with Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing from 23 June – 19 July whilst another Hampstead venue, The New End Theatre (the one that used to be a mortuary) wants to enlighten us about another classic: the Hokey Cokey. “You put your right arm in, you put your right arm out...” The New End’s The Hokey Cokey Man, which runs until 21st June, will tell you everything you maybe never wanted to know about the man who wrote this most energetic of children’s songs, Al Tabor – in a play written by his grandson Alan Balfour no less. On the Isle of Dogs, The Space, a multi-arts centre housed in a converted 19th century church complete with stained glass windows, kicks off its summer season with The Bay, a Fragments Theatre production. Fragments are a theatre group made up of Ireland –based actors and practitioners and The Bay was well-received when it was performed at Holcombe House, an historic building in Mill Hill, last November. It’s an energetic performance far removed from your usual theatre experience: using music and physical theatre to explore, “the frenetic journey of a harmonised community from order to chaos.” Created in response to the murder of a traveller in Ireland in 2002, the production runs from 9 – 18th June. Another anticipated highlight of The Space’s summer programme is award-wining director Terry Johnson’s version of The Graduate (made famous, of course, by the film version starring Dustin Hoffman) produced by the venues’ own production company Space Production, which runs from 21st - 26th July. And so concludes our brief roundup of some of the good stuff coming up this summer. To paraphrase the city’s best-known playwright, “All the world’s a stage…and nowhere else is this more obvious than in London.” Good to know there’s more to the place than William Shakespeare though.

Finborough Theatre >> 118 Finborough Road, SW10 9ED

Old Red Lion Theatre >> 418 St John Street, EC1V 4NJ

Etcetera Theatre >> 265 Camden High Street, NW1 7BU

King’s Head Theatre >> 115 Upper Street, N1 1QN

Camden People’s Theatre >> 58-60 Hampstead Road, NW1 2PY

Arcola Theatre >> 27 Arcola St, E8 2DJ

Blue Elephant Theatre >> 59a Bethwin Rd, SE5 0XT

St. Stephen’s >> Rosslyn Hill, NW3 2PP

The Space >> 269 West Ferry Road, E14 3RS

New End Theatre >> 27 New End, NW3 1JD


words: Adam Roan-Henderson

London is still fairly new to me; I’ve only two and a half years’ experience in the dirty great playground of our capital city. One of the first things that struck me after moving from the arguably aesthetically challenged Midlands was the abundance of good looking people. Seriously WOW; Londoners dress well, take care of themselves and are on the largely more pleasing on the eye than those outside of the M25. Pretty ladies always having been my Achilles heel (ok, one of them) and I am in heaven. Flouncy haired Kings Road girls, the edgy allure of the goth chicks and the impossibly perfectly presented European party girls. Unfortunately though I saw these visions of beauty in the day, I couldn’t find a trace of them in the evening. Where did they go? Was there a special club purely for the beautiful people? I have made it my mission to seek out this mythical lair of loveliness and try my luck. Here are some of my discoveries… If I was a rich boy…. My first suggestion is where I spent most of my first year in London falling out of; the Chelsea institution that is Embargo. Located at the World’s End area of the Kings Road it is the place where Chelsea’s young, carefree and daddy’s-credit-card-carrying come to let loose. To snare one of the pretty triple-barrelled girls dancing badly to the Baywatch theme tune I’d suggest chinos or blue jeans and an expensive blue/pink striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up, floppy hair and deck shoes. Your ‘good chat’ or ‘banter’ should include your chalet in Meribel or how long you are spending at Puerto Banus this summer. Currently closed for refurbishment but re-opening again on the 26th June. Mine’s a Pimms yah? ‘Cause we all wanna be big rock stars…. Possibly the antithesis to the Jack Wills sporting crowd of Chelsea can be found at the dark and dangerous looking Crobar. A recent find of mine, on entering you will be met by a sea of band T-shirted, pierced and tattooed metal heads. Jagermeister appears to be the favoured tipple, washed down with plenty of pints. The girls are surprisingly approachable; possibly because they are all rather drunk. If you can ‘sing’ along to the greatest hits of Slayer and crush a beer can on your head you’ll do fine. Girls who are boys, who like boys to be girls… To improve the odds a little perhaps going to a venue where half of the guys are, erm looking the other way. Circus at Last Days of Decadence in Shoreditch has a big fashion crowd following, which is obvious the second you enter. The outlandishly dressed crowd contain plenty of beautiful girls from London’s artier colleges. If you can talk confidently about the latest art rock band and name check Jodie Harsh a few times you’ll fit right in. The celebrity hit list… If it is starring in the gossip pages by pulling a beautiful celebrity you seek then you really need to be in the loop as to where the party of the hour is. In case you’re not privy to that information your best chance is try your luck at one of their regular hangouts at the moment; Bungalow 8 or one of The Committee nights at Whisky Mist. Make sure you are on the list (you’re on your own there) and confidently strut in like you own the place. I can’t really help any further here as I’ve had no success; unless you count being shouted at by Kate Moss and touching Vanessa Feltz’s boob (by accident!). She take my money, well I’m in need… London is a Mecca for the vulgarly wealthy (and the admirers of) from all over Europe. They can often be spotted in clubs like Crystal and Movida ordering magnums of Cristal and jeroboams of Belvedere. Flash an expensive watch, reserve a table and wear a designer suit or the pretty girls draped at the bar won’t take a second look. Get it right however and the gold-diggers don’t expect much in the way of conversation. Best of luck! // // // // // //



words : Rob Rowland, Sweet & Chilli

There are few shows in the world that get certain cliques all excited: Oscars for film buffs, Henley for rowers, Full Moon’s for fire-juggling trustafarians, Carnival for hoodies… For us drinkers it’s the lure of jodphurs and Juleps that really gets us chomping at the bit; the ancient home of Bourbon fuelled betting - The Kentucky Derby. Last month we finally made it across the pond to soak up some of the action in the ancient home of some of the world’s greatest liquor. The big day conjures up a scene of debauched glamour : louche oilmen from far and wide in crisp linen and the obligatory pocket watch checking the form - both of the filly’s in the paddock and the abundance of fabulous femmes in expensive frocks, tottering and twittering with each other like only femmes do. The twitter of yore though has been replaced with more of a squall, and the louche oilmen in crisp linen replaced by well-oiled frat boys in Hawaiian cotton (a clothing article that has its place behind the bar, just rarely in front of it). Come 6pm and none of this matters as you and the other 150,000 bourbon fuelled folk line up to watch one of the most thrilling two minutes in horse racing. From straight out the gates these steeds are like rockets, not surprising seeing that they are fed from the same limestone ground that’s so important for all ‘put hair on your chest’ bourbons of The Bluegrass State. My horse wasn’t even close to coming in but win or lose (that’s the beauty of gambling) you can bet on anything and it transforms the most mundane task into a frenzy of excitement. Try it… next time you’re at an airport, take bets on who’s suitcase arrives first and you’ve got your very own race track baggage carousel. One Mecca that certainly lived up to expectations were the distilleries. Buffalo Trace was outstanding and flexed its muscles with its vast stills, warehouses and the fact it’s the oldest continuously running bourbon distillery (it stayed open during the prohibition to make ‘medicinal’ whiskey). And yes Makers Mark is serenely pretty in its picturesque, postcard perfect way. But to me the real magic came from the small batch, hand-crafted, still got a pet cat running around, distillery that is Woodford Reserve. Down to the Scottish imported copper pot stills (a rarity these days and used to separate the alcohol from the water during distillation), every step in the process of making this intense bourbon is crafted with such love and care that you can’t help but really fall for it. I was an avid drinker of Woodford Reserve before, but now, I’ll be shouting it from the water towers! Enjoy Ya’ll.

THE DERBY FRUIT CUP Created by Nidal Ramini - A combination of the classic American cocktail - the Manhattan, and the quintessentially English tipple - the Fruit Cup 25ml Woodford Reserve 25ml Martini Rosso ¼ lemon squeeze ¼ lime squeeze Ginger ale Cucumber slice Mint sprig Strawberry Glass: Highball Ice: Cubed Method: Add Woodford Reserve and Martini Rosso to the glass, then squeeze in the lemon and lime. Add the fruit and fill with cubed ice. Top with ginger ale. WOODFORD OLD FASHIONED Undoubtedly the daddy of bourbon cocktails, if you’re not having it on the rocks then for me, this is the only other way to drink it: 60ml Woodford Reserve 6 - 8 drops Angostura bitters Brown sugar cube Dash soda water Glass: Old Fashioned/Rocks Ice: Cubed Method: Take a nice large, heavy rocks glass and place a napkin over the top. Place a brown sugar cube onto the napkin and douse it with the Angostura bitters, drop the cube into the glass. Add a small dash of soda water and use the flat end of a bar spoon (or rolling pin etc) to crush up the sugar cube as much as possible. Add 20ml of Woodford Reserve, stir, add some ice and stir for 2 minutes. Add 20ml more of Woodford Reserve, top up with ice and stir more another 2 minutes. Repeat with 20ml more of Woodford, top with ice and then finally garnish with a slice of orange zest.

THE WOODFORDIAN A simple bourbon & mixer, suitable for old hats and those new to the world of American whiskey. 50ml Woodford Reserve 150ml quality ginger ale Glass: Highball Ice:Cubed Method: Pour the Woodford Reserve into the glass, add ice and top with ginger ale.



Do you sneer at salad? Do you like your food served simply, with enough barbecue sauce to drown a pig in? Have you ever eaten a slab of beef the size of your own head? If you answered yes to any of these questions, then Bodean’s Barbecue Restaurant could well be the place for you. Offering all manner of meat from buffalo wings to pulled pork, and serving steaks at a 10oz standard size, Bodean’s is all about manly eating. As a 5’2” woman accompanied by a gay man, I had my doubts about whether my dining partner and I could handle it. But the sight of an over-large meal stirs up primeval instincts in the very meekest of us, and we found ourselves approaching the experience as a compelling kind of challenge. With this in mind, I set to work polishing off an evening meal I can only describe as grossly indulgent. Astonishingly, I managed to wade my way through a serving of Bodean’s Nachos Supreme, served on a jumbo frisbee-sized platter fairly dripping with melted cheese and sour cream, followed by a 10oz rump steak (rare but tender) with fries and three generous scoops of ice cream. Tom shared my starter and managed an impressively giant spare ribs and chicken combo, but baulked at the sight of the dessert menu and graciously admitted defeat. Needless to say, I jeered at him ruthlessly for the remainder of the evening. While gorging ourselves on kilograms and kilograms of American-style meaty fare, we hardly had time to look around us, but as we settled after our meal (and the food sweats set in) we considered our surroundings. We’d wandered into the Soho branch of Bodean’s, which looks small and unimpressively like a sandwich bar on the upstairs canteen floor, but has a large and bustling dining room (aptly dubbed the ‘Rib Room’) downstairs. The décor is at once cliché and idiosyncratic; from the plush leather seating in the diner-style booths to the antlers adorning the walls, it’s delightfully tasteless. After a leisurely glass of wine, we left the restaurant satisfied, albeit in mild pain from the sheer volume of victuals consumed. With simple but solid, reasonably priced dishes and warm and helpful service, it’s difficult to see how you could go wrong with Bodean’s. Bodean’s Soho is located on Poland Street, nearest tube Oxford Circus. A three course meal for two with wine will set you back about £45 - £60. words : Ellie Rose

Places to go, People to see June. 1st : Patrick Wolf : Electric Ballroom : 2nd : Sweet Memory Sounds at the Notting Hill Arts Club, Notting hIll 3rd : Karaoke and live bands at Smithfield Raw : Karaoke Box, Smithfield Street 4th : Late night opening at AOP gallery for the Student Awards : Shoreditch 5th : The Pantaloons : Caught a great open air play from these guys last month : 6pm Alford Manor House, Alford, Lincolnshire : 6th - 28th and onwards : Sister Act at the London Palladium : 9th : Ciara Haidar : The Enterprise with Kid Harpoon : 11st : Start of Remi Roughe’s show at Urban Angels : 12th : Rebel Bingo at a secret location : 12th : Rockness Festival : Nr Inverness : 13th : Fiesta at 333 Old Street : 14th : Art Car Boot Fair, Truman Brewery : 15th : Old, Tired Horse : Institute of Contempory Arts 10am-1pm : 16th : The Pepys : The Rhythm Factory : 18th : Wonky Pop with Starsmiff Djing : Punk 20th : Providing the Suns out go to Margate : It needs some more visiters 22nd : Make yourself feel better about how skint the weekend has made you and go to Curreys to buy yourself something nice - they do credit : 23rd : The Bar show : Earls Court 25th : Go hang out on the roof terrace at Sanctum Hotel, Soho : 26th : Step Right Up : Stella Dore Gallery, Shoreditch : 27th : Got for tea : Time for Tea opens at the weekends for tea and cake : Shoreditch High Street 28th : Join a twitter book club :


THE END Carry on at

Who's Jack Issue 25