Replica Magazine Issue VII by Bob Bean

REPLICA MAGAZINE Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this magazine are those of the contributors and are not necessarily shared by Replica Magazine or Global Tat Productions. No responsibility is assumed by Replica Magazine or Global Tat Productions for damage or offense caused by any of the content contained in the material herein.

Issue VII The Mental Health Issue

Happy Birthday It is our birthday and rather tragically we have been singing ‘happy birthday’ to ourselves all week because no one threw us a party. Bastards.

This issue is quite possibly the best magazine ever made. Ever. We have even included our first fashion section for all you hipsters out there.

We would like to thank all of our contributors and readers from the last year, you are all utterly lovely. Without you we would be well and truly buggered.

The World Health Organisation defines mental health as "a state of well-being in which the individual realises his or her own abilities, can cope with the normal stresses of life, can work productively and fruitfully, and is able to make a contribution to his or her community”. I think we may have missed the point slightly. Enjoy.

This next year is going to be a big one for Replica, just you wait and see. Look out for us at the Urban Art Festival (www.urbanart.co.uk) in July.

This magazine is a compilation of articles, artwork, photos and other bits and pieces sent in by its readers. Anyone can contribute: contributions@replicamag.co.uk Try to keep articles under 800 words. The next issue is out on 22nd July All submissions must be received by 13th July to be considered for inclusion. Cover: Photo by Rebecca Lever rebeccalever@aol.com Left: Chris Getliffe www.getliffe.com

Rosie Allen-Jones, Editor

Replica Magazine Global Tat Productions Chief Custodian Thomas Foxley thebrains@replicamag.co.uk Editor Rosie Allen-Jones editor@replicamag.co.uk Illustrations Damian Zuch damianzuch@gmail.com www.replicamag.co.uk

Happy Birthday It is our birthday and rather tragically we have been singing ‘happy birthday’ to ourselves all week because no one threw us a party. Bastards.

This issue is quite possibly the best magazine ever made. Ever. We have even included our first fashion section for all you hipsters out there.

We would like to thank all of our contributors and readers from the last year, you are all utterly lovely. Without you we would be well and truly buggered.

This next year is going to be a big one for Replica, just you wait and see. Look out for us at the Urban Art Festival (www.urbanart.co.uk) in July.

Rosie Allen-Jones, Editor

III NEXT ISSUE’S THEME: Table of Contents Music at Funerals by Adam Vasey......................................................................... IV Music for the dead Man Fear by Andy Ives.......................................................................................... VIII Andy is anxious If You’re Bored... by Silvia Alba………………………………………………...………................. XII Boredom-busting activites for people with a lot of time on their hands Mental Health: A Contradiction in Terms by Nicholas Paten................................ XVIII Mental health: bollocks? Replica Style Guide by Laurent Van Twinkle......................................................... XX Laurent’s top tips for the coming season Describe the Room You Are In by Luke Chilton..................................................... XXVIII Top quality school essay Flat Shoes by Simon Hopper.................................................................................. XXXI Scandinavians are great Replica Gallery....................................................................................................... XXXII The finest art and photography from around the country Being Small. by Georgia Fitzgerald........................................................................ XXXXXII Georgia recalls her childhood Crossroads by Declan Tan...................................................................................... XXXXXIV Right, left, politics, anarchy. You get it

TEA AND CIGARETTES ARTWORK AND ARTICLES PLEASE DEADLINE 13/07/09

Uncle Wetlegs: Collective Agony........................................................................... XXXXXVIII Uncle Wetlegs is ill Nervous Breakdown by Beck Robertson............................................................... XXXXXX Poem

TEA AND CIGARETTES ARTWORK AND ARTICLES PLEASE DEADLINE 13/07/09

Music at Funerals By Adam Vasey I hadn’t been involved in funeral preparations before, it’s by no means the most enjoyable experience, but equally it came not without its laughable moments. The Funeral Director appeared at the house dressed head to toe in black and spoke with a drawl - he could have easily been mistaken for Lurch from the Addams family if the occasional “you rang” had found its way into the conversation. After most of the arrangements had been made, and enough tea had been drunk to kill off a small firm of builders, the conversation turned to music for the day. Lurch informed us that they already had a wealth of music on the funeral parlour’s iTunes. With this he delved deep into his black briefcase, pulled out a book the size of yellow pages containing the names of the songs and artists’ previously played and slammed it onto the kitchen table. I set about going through this directory of morbid musicality and was amazed at some of the songs people had chosen as their final statement. By my reckoning these people had three to four minutes to sum up their life so you’d think that they, or their families, would choose something good - this

obviously wasn’t the case. Among the twenty versions of Hallelujah, Candle In The Wind and Jeff Buckley’s Last Goodbye, were some truly strange selections. Just as it would be unbefitting to play Led Zeppelin’s Babe I’m Going To Leave You or Paul Simon’s 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover whilst holding an emergency relationship talk with your partner. It would also seem bad form to play Echo and the Bunnymen’s The Cutter at the funeral of a stab wound victim or The BaHa Men’s Who Let The Dogs Out when putting to rest the poor bastard who was mauled to death by an Alsatian. The Funeral Director had his own ideas (of course) trying to push the operatic boy band El Divo on us. I couldn’t help but think that Simon Cowell had found a new way of selling records. A tactical ploy to get every Funeral Director in the country pushing his band of manufactured honey-dripping crooners onto grief ridden people in order to sell millions of records. Illustration by Damian Zuch www.flickr.com/photos/45841296@N00/ It’s safe to say that I became slightly obsessed with this bible of damned MP3s. I found myself trying to imagine how dedicated to a favourite tipple someone must have been to select I Am A Cider Drinker as their swan song. Or who would be happy with Cotton-eye Joe to sum up their life. With this

information in conclusion that put the I-pod so over-come can’t decide.

mind I came to the the parlour staff must on shuffle for those with grief that they

After hours of deliberation we finally

agreed on Morecambe and Wise singing Bring Me Sunshine over a Bobby Womack classic. The thought of Living in a Box reverberating around the funeral parlour didn’t bear thinking about.

information in conclusion that put the I-pod so over-come can’t decide.

mind I came to the the parlour staff must on shuffle for those with grief that they

After hours of deliberation we finally

agreed on Morecambe and Wise singing Bring Me Sunshine over a Bobby Womack classic. The thought of Living in a Box reverberating around the funeral parlour didn’t bear thinking about.

VII Dear Replica,

Dear Replica, Here is a list of things that will drive you mental... 1. The ‘118 247’ advert 2. The Frosties ‘They’re gonna taste great’ advert 3. Anything by Bob Sinclair 4. When you can’t get in to a club because you have the wrong shoes on 5.People that say, “where did you last have it?”, when you lose something 6. When you’re watching a film and someone who’s already seen it keeps saying “This bit’s really funny” or “you’ve got to watch this bit” 7. Finally getting a chance to have a smoke and not having a lighter 8. People with their shirts off in clubs who are absolutely drenched in sweat and insist on hugging you

9. Trying to understand baseball 10. Trying to understand Donnie Darko 11. Having tonnes of booze but no mixer 12. When you get in a lift, thinking it’ll be quicker, only to find it stops on every floor and no one gets on 13. Backing a loser 14. Missing a winner 15. Having more than a 1 minute conversation about football with a Man Utd fan 16. Minimal techno 17. No toilet roll 18. People who say ‘Whoop whoop’ or chronically use it on Facebook 19. Reading lists like this 20. Schizophrenia Lots of love, Ken Dogg

Dear Replica,

I thought you might enjoy this listing I spotted on eBay:

“This is a max wicked sick BMX. It's a Reliance Boomerang and it's done heaps of maximum extreme stunts. I have mostly done stunts on this bike since forever. Once I did a boom gnarly stunt trick on it and a girl got pregnant just by watching my extremeness to the maxxxx.

Tricks I have done on this BMX: Endos - 234. Sick Wheelies - 687. Skids 143,000. Flipouts - 28. Basically if you buy this bike you will instantly become a member to every club that was ever invented, worldwide, because you will be awesome. “

Dear Friends, I send you some of my drawings and texts in English. Kind Regards, Miguel Guzman

Dear Replica, Y - NOT WOULD LIKE TO GIVE YOU A BIRTHDAY PRESENT.... THE RAVE BAIGEL... (left) Love from, The Brick Lane Gallery xx

VII Dear Replica,

Dear Replica,

I thought you might enjoy this listing I spotted on eBay:

Dear Friends, I send you some of my drawings and texts in English. Kind Regards, Miguel Guzman

Dear Replica, Y - NOT WOULD LIKE TO GIVE YOU A BIRTHDAY PRESENT.... THE RAVE BAIGEL... (left) Love from, The Brick Lane Gallery xx

IX Man Fear Andy Ives is terrified… Five years ago, I was sitting at my desk in the office of a magazine publishers in Croydon; it was lunch time on a hot summer day. Across the desk from me sat my boss who was chatting about this and that as she munched on a Marks and Spencer duck wrap. As I watched her talking I began to feel a little strange, light headed. The hairs on my arms started to stand on end and I felt my face flush. I took a deep breath and tried to ride it out; it felt like one of those morning-after twitchy, spin-out rushes that happen after a big night. But the feeling didn’t stop, and suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my chest that scared the shit out of me and I slipped off of my chair and on to the floor. My breath started coming in gasps and I couldn’t seem to get enough air into my lungs. By now a circle of concerned faces were looking down at me and I could hear an ambulance being called. I’d like to pretend I wasn’t frightened. That, as what could only be described as a heart attack was killing me, I had some calm, witty and resigned thoughts going through my mind. But I didn’t. I was terrified of dying on my back in a shitty Croydon office. Obviously I survived. The paramedics took one look at me and slowed from a run to an amble. The doctor in the hospital took one look at me and told the

nurse to give me a paper bag and sent me to the back of the queue. It was a panic attack, my first and the worst thing that has ever happened to me. That might seem like a big statement but it’s true. For five years prior to that moment, I had routinely jumped out of planes and bungeed off bridges. I had hurled myself over 20 foot snowboard kickers and got my knee down while riding racing bikes. I am telling you this, at the risk of sounding like a macho twat, simply to illustrate that I wasn’t a shy, retiring flower. Panic attacks, as I thought then, were the preserve of women going through the change of life and of those nervous blokes from accounts. Not for an all-action adrenalin fiend like me. Following the attack, it took me almost a year just to get myself on a tube train, and longer still before I could fly again. The fear of having another attack crippled me; it turned me into a nervous, twitchy wreck and at the time, I couldn’t see a way out. Over the following years I read everything there is to read about panic attacks and anxiety disorder. Most of it is shit and a lot of it is simply out to make a fast buck. Perhaps more interestingly I talked to a lot of people about it too. I was surprised to find that most of my male friends had suffered at least one similar episode and many of them have

Illustration by Damian Zuch www.flickr.com/photos/45841296@N00/

X had long term anxiety problems. My doctor bore this out. He told me that a huge proportion of male patients around my age (I was 30 at the time) walk out of his surgery with a bottle of anti depressants in their pocket. The thing that struck me as I was trawling the internet and bookshops for a way out of the cycle was that men are hopelessly bad at recognizing that they have a problem and are even worse at seeking help. The nervous guy stereotype of the panicky accounts geek is at odds with our machismo. Just as I couldn’t understand how one moment I was kite surfing and the next moment I was scared to get into a lift, your average bloke often can’t bring himself to admit that he has a problem with anxiety. Self medication with Stella seems to be the uniform cure, which only makes things worse. Almost all of the self-help material I found on anxiety attacks has been written by women and while some of it is very well informed and very helpful, none of it is written for people who imagine themselves to be astronauts, SAS heroes or professional footballers - a group of men who we imagine to be immune to anxiety and sweaty palms.

For most men I think admitting a fear of being afraid is the single biggest hurdle to seeking help and making a recovery. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that anxiety disorder is worse for men than women, just that it is different and there are different obstacles to overcome which are not always addressed. I am much recovered these days. I recently flew to Australia and back, 27 hours confined on a plane was something I could not have considered a few years ago. The mere thought would have had me on my back, gasping like a fish out of water. A period on anti depressants, some counseling and most importantly the support of some very understanding friends has seen me through. If you are reading this and know how it feels to be drowning on dry land, male or female, I can tell you now that the second you tell someone you trust about it your recovery has begun. Anxiety disorder and panic attacks, along with many mental health problems, often go untreated because of the perceived stigma that they carry. Your doctor and your friends will hold no such prejudices and the first time someone says “that happens to me too” you will feel a weight lifting from your shoulders which, in truth, is half the battle.

NHS Anxiety Pages: www.nhs.uk/Conditions/Anxiety/Pages/Introduction.aspx

Illustration by Damian Zuch www.flickr.com/photos/45841296@N00/

NHS Anxiety Pages: www.nhs.uk/Conditions/Anxiety/Pages/Introduction.aspx

Illustration by Damian Zuch www.flickr.com/photos/45841296@N00/

Photo by Silvia Alba

If You’re Bored… by Silvia Alba

Photo by Silvia Alba

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XIX Mental Health: A Contradiction in Terms It’s all a load of bollocks, claims Nicholas Paton

In retrospect a lot of things that occurred in ones childhood are shameful. But let’s not allow that to stop the recollection. A nervous, victimised boy raises his hand in geography class to ask his teacher, “What’s the name of the lake the Loch Ness Monster lives in?” The silence which follows is brief, as two dozen infantile brains repeat the question and find the answer within it. It’s a silence breached by two dozen tongues sticking out of the lips of two dozen faces. The boy waiting to receive slaps from two dozen hands and the silence to be broken by the guttural drone of two dozen voices harmonising “nrrrrrrrrrr, spastic!” To his credit, the boy never stopped asking questions, however stupid. That boy wasn’t me. I chose to slap his chin and taunt with the others: “spastic!” - the terminology evolved by kids in the mid-80s for anyone displaying stupidity. Shameful. I’m going to stick out a limb – I’ll raise that to a head – and presume a readership which recognises the offensive use of that word as being a product of fleeting,

childish ignorance, and not entrenched, prejudiced malice. I’m going to move on to something else reflected in that classroom: approval. Why did we all express the same sentiment? Why not just one voice calling out the abuse? Why not just two, or three, or nine? Safety in numbers. We proved to each other that we weren’t stupid – we’re smart, capable, adjusted. Until you know how other people are thinking, you cannot know that what goes on in your head is ok. We found approval from one another in our communal cry. We may have all grown up, but this yearning to know that you’re ok never seems to leave us. We live now in a culture of psychoanalysis and self-improvement. If you don’t feel ok there is no shortage of therapists to speak to or self-help books to turn to. Psychiatrists and psychologists have created a model of a healthy mind conducting healthy behaviour by which they can measure any deviation from and correct. Now, I’m not saying there’s no place for

this. We are all preoccupied with ourselves and we all want to be happy. If we cannot find that in our day-to-day life, we are most welcome to seek professional (or pseudo-professional) help, and this indeed may provide some answers. I myself found guidance from certain popularised Buddhist teachings. There is nothing wrong in heeding the wisdom of others, or incorporating wisdom into your own world-view in a form which makes you happier. Equally there are plenty of unfortunate souls who suffer neurological or psychological disorders which undermine their ability to function in this sophisticated world, and who require professional aid. But there is something we must be cautious about – or sensitive to at least: the notion that there is such a thing as a healthy mind, as there is a healthy body. Or is there rather an idealised mind, as popular culture has us believe, in an ideal lifestyle? Our inner world of memories, thoughts and feelings is extraordinarily complex and only grows more so with each day that passes. Each of us is a unique product of individual experience, uniquely

perceived. I do not believe that these memories, thoughts and feelings can be identified and quantified in the same way that the biological properties and functions of our bodies can be. Certainly there are recurring patterns. There is a chain of cause and effect between our experience, our thoughts and our behaviour and this can be analysed, to a degree, to identify certain problems and conflicts. But there is no such thing as normal when it comes to your mind. You are unique, however others may wish to categorise you or however you may wish to categorise yourself. In short, do not compare yourself with others: approval is not required. Relish the points at which your memories, thoughts and feelings intersect with those around you. Relish where they diverge. Embrace what makes you miserable as much as what makes you joyous for it is yours and yours alone. I know no-one who is simply happy. I know no-one with a healthy mind. It wouldn’t be a mind if it weren’t at least a bit fucked-up. Whatever you may think, it’s ok.

Background picture by unknown author, licensed under Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 2.5

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XIX Mental Health: A Contradiction in Terms It’s all a load of bollocks, claims Nicholas Paton

Background picture by unknown author, licensed under Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 2.5

Replica Style Guide Laurent Van Twinkle tells you what’s hot this summer

Neon is well and truly back for the summer. Nu-rave is enjoying a second wind and every indiefashionista will be donning bright reflective colors coupled with a UV light source come July. Jacket by Seno d‘Ardore £225 UV Strip Lamp from Ikea £20

Replica Style Guide Laurent Van Twinkle tells you what’s hot this summer

If you really want to make an impression then a knife and a cardboard box are definitely the way to do it. Tiki gods are in this season and the bigger the better. Try not to over-do it with the steel- a blade of no more than 7 inches manages to be imposing yet not too threatening. Sailor’s T-Shirt by Fish & Tackle £65 Jeans by Piccoli Ugelli £105 Dog-Head Tiki Box by Cartone £150

Cooked meats are going to be making a regular appearance on the catwalks over the next few years. Salami is a particularly trendy number at the moment. Placed with the right jacket it will really set off your features. Fur Jacket by Brocche Pelose £475 Silver Hoop Earings by Allentato £40 Salami by Tesco £0.69p

End.

www.thebricklanegallery.com

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Flat Shoes by Simon Hopper In Sweden women wear flat shoes Shake you firmly by the hand Meet your gaze quite equally I love this foreign northern land They take their place within the scheme With both feet firmly on the ground And from the basement to the roof Their self-assuredness abounds Swedish women's confidence Rings out like a crystal bell Check the level of the ground See, their feet are parallel Stroll the streets of Stockholm town Gallivant in Gothenburg Use your eyes, the women there Will prove the truth within my words Swedish women take their place They're not assigned a gender-role Check the level of their feet See, the heel's not higher than the sole...

www.myspace.com/thesimonhopperband

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www.myspace.com/thesimonhopperband

REPLICA GALLERY Welcome art lovers and pretentious arseholes. This is the Replica Art Gallery.

Right: image by Chris Getliffe

REPLICA GALLERY Welcome art lovers and pretentious arseholes. This is the Replica Art Gallery.

Right: image by Chris Getliffe

Neale Garside Neale is an amateur photographer and DJ who lives in London. neale.garside@tiscali.co.uk

Bern Campbell Artist and band manager, Bern looks after the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s finest gypsy-punk band, Drunken Balordi. www.myspace.com/drunkenbalordi

Olivia Bliss I am an artist currently based in Glasgow. Journeys, processes and primary interaction within the natural landscape are the roots of many of my ideas. Using close up imagery, can change the ways in which the familiar is viewed, often revealing the fragility of small scale ecosystems. www.oliviabliss.co.uk

Chris Getliffe Getliffe makes fun dark comics, illustrates odd things for people, and sometimes paints all big on their walls, or smaller on his canvases. www.getliffe.com

Rebecca Machin Graphic designer Rebecca, aka â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Beckaoticâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, presents a range of thought provoking work that explores the bittersweet comedy of life through photography, illustration and typography. beckaotic@hotmail.com

Rebecca Lever Rebecca is the smiliest person in the world. rebeccalever@aol.com

Daniel Silher â&#x20AC;&#x153;My name is Daniel Sihler, I'm 21 years from Brasilia. I work as graphic designer and art finalist. Mental health for me is a mix of sports, good reading and ice cream, of course. â&#x20AC;&#x153; http://dsihler.blogspot.com

Evie Jeffreys â&#x20AC;&#x153;I'm a journalism student in my 2nd year at LCC. I also take photographs as a hobby.â&#x20AC;? eviejeffreys@hotmail.co.uk

Sarah Phillips â&#x20AC;&#x153;My friend and I have been designing furniture in spare time for about 18 months. We met randomly at 3am and decided to start a business together. Here are some pics.â&#x20AC;? www.trevorandsusan.com

XXXXXII Being Small Georgia Fitzgerald recalls her childhood Waking up. Waking up in that half shack half house was always unpleasant, going to sleep was always more so. The damp cold of old feather duvets the night before turned to a smudgy sweat in the morning and my naked father on one side smelling musty, of earth and dirt, and pushing out heat and my brother on the other. Small bones arranged in thin skin like a newly born bird or a freshly dead mouse. As we got older Jasper began to sleep on the sofa downstairs, I stuck to the dirt bed, filthy grey. And looking up to peep through the hole that went right through the foot deep wall to the outside. I’m sure the clarity of sunlight lessens as we add on year upon year. What came through that dusty hole was palpable, honey clear like mead. And don’t wake dad but get out, out, out. Down the splinter steps that weren’t steps but wide runged ladders, slowly, backwards, quietly with careful feet. It’s funny now to think how small those feet would have been, clumsy on the rough wood.

And come on Jasper and check the cupboards for breakfast time. The cupboards were bare; the cupboards were almost always bare. Maybe a block of butter on the bottom shelf to keep cool and some old crumbs to dirty up the newspaper lining the shelves. I wish I could give you the colours and the smells. Browns and dusty blues, stale tobacco and cannabis resin, cold flagstone grey on the small feet. Dark inside but that mead pouring about the house jumping in here and there and falling through the dust, like the golden peel of a trumpet on a black jazz background. But out, out, out. Out and into the morning, which is clear like a bell, it sings. Sings like the voices of school children travelling far through cold air. But already the air is warm and the plants, green in the garden, vibrate with a friendly greeting and the bee is slow and methodical, and if you put your hand in the pond to find a tadpole the water is a perfect cool.

XXXXXV Crossroads Political decisions to be made… by Declan Tan The feet of a young Briton are planted in a pair of pristine white shoes, standing in a small town called Reason. Laid out before them is a foggy crossroad. The view to the Right presents a wellworn and narrow dirt track; blood, armour and bullets shape its long path. A sharp pang of sound can be heard in the distance followed by a faint but familiar roar, a crowd chanting a mantra. To the Left the road is wide, well-paved and unused. It winds aimlessly and confused, splitting off into many directions. There is a sound there too, but it is muted and incomprehensible. The sounds the young person hears are of crowds- congregations of people pushed or pulled in a political direction, eager for “change”. Whether that politicisation is a result of a particular event in a person’s life, or the result of continuing culture-conditioning differs from individual to individual. This is the view taken by one law student, Joseph Lappin, who says: “If someone is personally affected by a particular event in an adverse way, they may become politicised to the right or left. But generally the economy will be the main reason for a shift in one’s political views. If people are comfortable financially they

are less likely to become radicalised.” Contending with top-up fees, rent and an active social life puts stress on every student’s mind to the point where the survival of their way of life comes under threat. Although these are the conditions students live in today they may be changing. Peter McLaren of the Campaign for a New Workers’ Party, a socialist movement attracting more and more young people, says: “I think money will become increasingly irrelevant. If people haven’t got any money they’ll be looking for solutions that can actually provide answers to why they haven’t got any.” It starts with education: “To learn is to change” it is said. The Morning Star, Britain’s only socialist daily newspaper, is dedicated to this cause. Not ‘education’ in the traditional sense of a National Curriculum but instead a spreading of ideas. “What we’ve found is that most people consider socialism, or communism, to be dead,” says writer and circulation manager, Ivan Beavis, of the Morning Star, “but that is the only viable alternative to what is going on. What we want to inform people is that a form of socialism is achievable, that the multinationals and the people who tell us it isn’t, are really only saying so because it’s not in their interests.”

Illustration by Damian Zuch www.flickr.com/photos/45841296@N00/

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But what also exists, apart from the explanation that people are not ready for it, is a view that the Left is in disarray. Without a unification of existing socialist groups, splintered because of ideological differences, the cause cannot succeed in voicing a coherent message that people can either understand or get behind.

Referring to the increasing recruitment of young people, he explains: “People put up with a lot of things if you can give them money to buy electrical goods and gadgets and have a good standard of life. But when that goes I’m afraid it’s the old adage, “the crowd is fickle”, and indeed they are and they’ll look for something else.”

As it is, the war for the minds of young people is being won on a vast plain of illusion with television, Hollywood, computer games and, in a large number of cases, the historically championed escape from the insulated self: alcohol. Amongst young people this culture dulls the brain’s ability to realise a different concept of existence. It is with scientific thoroughness that the capitalist idea and mainstream media have exploited the individual to the point where people are now beginning to “wake up”.

But perhaps they are not so fickle, as Joseph Lappin comments: “The BNP has been able to manipulate the working classes into believing and adopting the view that the Labour Party, the traditional party of the working classes, is unable to cater for their needs.”

Deputy leader of the 10,000-strong and growing British National Party (BNP), Simon Darby, believes conditions are reaching the cusp of this historical epoch.

Although today’s discontent has not quite reached the edge of direct action, during 1968 a group began to organise: the British National Front (NF), a party currently experiencing a significant, if unsubstantial, period of success by achieving their best election results in thirty years. The party, single-issue in its approach and preoccupied with its obsession with a white Britain, is as outdated and irrelevant

as the words of its leader, Tom Holmes, when he says: “The whole thing is a plot. It’s only the white people that do anything. We say race and nation. Race is the priority. Once the race is gone, that’s it.” People are waking up, as Darby says, but it seems more have awoken to the rise of the divisive policies of the BNP and NF, realising a reaction must come to quell their appetite for power. So now, before the young person there is a parting of the mist; a third path straight ahead. It leads upward, a steep climb swarming with loose and jagged rock, as thousands of familiar faces stare into the same abyss. Educator, linguist, philosopher and anarchist, Noam Chomsky, believes that every system you can imagine infringes on personal liberty. We agree to that infringement if we accept it as reasonable, as part of our opinion of how a reasonable society should be run. He says choose your oppression.

An anonymous writer and member of the Anarchist Federation says: “People thinking and acting for themselves, people organising without boundaries, going where they like, confronting who they want, challenging, fighting, resisting, together. Getting to a place where their laws and rules, their way of thinking, their boundaries and walls no longer have meaning and are never again allowed to stop us doing what we like and what we must; a world of freedom and co-operation.” The young person looks again and realises: there was no Left or Right. Only Up and Down: “There's no black and white, left and right to me anymore; there's only up and down and down is very close to the ground. And I'm trying to go up without thinking about anything trivial such as politics. They have got nothing to do with it. I'm thinking about the general people and when they get hurt.” -Bob Dylan, 1963

Background photo by Paul Vlaar, licensed under GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2

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Deputy leader of the 10,000-strong and growing British National Party (BNP), Simon Darby, believes conditions are reaching the cusp of this historical epoch.

Background photo by Paul Vlaar, licensed under GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2

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UNCLE WETLEGS COLLECTIVE AGONY Can we really expect to be permanently happy? No. Of course not. Not only is it not possible, it would not be healthy either. On that logic the lovely people at 68 Noscrotum Road, Manchester have reversed the traditional agony uncle formula and sent us solutions to end happy situations. How lovely.

My girlfriend loves me. -That’s what she wants you to think. Secretly she’s plotting your demise. Dump her. Dump her before it’s too late. I quit smoking a month ago. -Quitting is for pussies. Think of all that wonderful nicotine you have been missing out on. Man up and have a fag. I have recently discovered cream cheese. It’s so wonderfully creamy and cheesy, it is bringing me much joy. -And it’s clogging your arteries with lots of saturated fat. I’m sure you will appreciate the intense joy of a heart attack before long.

For the next issue Replica will still need you to download an agony sheet and put it on a wall in your home. Here all housemates can anonymously post their problems, and others can endeavor to answer. answer You can then type up your solved problems and send them in to a frail Uncle Wetlegs for him to mull over and dream of his problem solving past.

Its my birthday. -You don’t half go on about it, do you? Me, me, me, me, me, me, me. What exactly have you accomplished in the last year, hmmm? I’m not coming to your party. Tequila. It makes me happy. happy -It also kills your brain cells, damages your liver, costs a fortune, makes you sick and gives you a headache.

I’ve got a brilliant new job. -And you want to make a good impression, don’t you? Why not buy your boss some flowers? And maybe a framed picture of the two of you? If you don’t happen to have a good picture to hand then you could stick your head onto a photo of your boss with their spouse. In these tough economic times I think really think it would be wise. Download an agony sheet and put it on your wall: A cheeky pat on the bum always www.replicamag.co.uk/Uncle_Wetlegs_Notice.pdf goes down well, too.

Go on, entertain the Uncle.

I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts. -No you don’t- they’re all hairy and brown. Jesus saves. -Don’t get me started. I think I have a secret admirer. Every morning when I wake up I find a dead fish on my doorstep. I’m so excited to find out who it is. -Sorry to burst your bubble, but it sounds to me like your secret admirer might actually be a seabird of some sort. And it also sounds like this seabird is using your doorstep as a fish-stash. This really isn’t very funny. -That’s a good thing, is it?

XXXXXVIII

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Go on, entertain the Uncle.

XXXXXX WE NEED CONTRIBUTORS Nervous Breakdown by Beck Robertson do you know what it is to break in suburbia the realisation coming up in some horrific wave silence only intensifying the deadness inside, houses cars all lined up in neat little rows I see them on the way back from the supermarket bags balanced precariously on the handlebars of my old bicycle and each one stings a little dart under my flesh thinking I won't notice the slow asphyxiation as the tendrils of that unnatural quiet pull me in closer to make me dead flesh dead wood stealing my thoughts I am like a murder victim incarcerated in a sack weighted with stones discarded in to icy river water into chilling quietness, nothingness takes me right to the wall pressing my face in to someone's neat little privet hedge twisting my arms behind my back supreme immobilisation on my neck I feel it's dirty killing breath guilty with the stink of so many slaughters and I drop the bags, the bike the lot and run try and put so much distance between that stillness and I have no choice get out where something might happen or suffocate here in this town

â&#x20AC;&#x153;REPLICA NEEDS

YOUâ&#x20AC;? Get off your arse and do something. Air your opinions. Get published. Start a fucking riot (just make sure you tell us about it).

REPLICA MAGAZINE Combating apathy and boredom nationwide. www.replicamag.co.uk

â&#x20AC;&#x153;REPLICA NEEDS

YOUâ&#x20AC;? Get off your arse and do something. Air your opinions. Get published. Start a fucking riot (just make sure you tell us about it).

REPLICA MAGAZINE Combating apathy and boredom nationwide. www.replicamag.co.uk

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO CONTRIBUTED TO THIS ISSUE

End.