CALMzine Issue 9 by SASP

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no mz . 11 o 106 n 21 e .n

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CALM

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CAMPAIGN AGAINST LIVING MISERABLY

DANNY DYER INTERVIEW// ART SHOW SPECIAL // MISTER MUMBLES // INNER LIFE // DEAR JOSH

CALM

CONTENTS

GREETINGS.

MANifesto .................................................... 5. Are You A ‘Standard Issue Lad’? ................ 6. London’s Best Barbers ................................ 8. Inner Life ..................................................... 10. Mister Mumbles ........................................... 12. CALMzine Interview: Danny Dyer ............... 14. Art Show: Tom, Dick & Harry special ......... 17. What Not To Do: Debut Album ..................... 19. An Only Twin ................................................ 20. Ambassadors Reception ................................22. Calm Competition ........................................ 25. Frazzled Daddy ............................................ 26. Chris Sav’s Everyman .................................. 29. Bullies in Cyberspace .................................. 30. The Rant ........................................................ 32. Dear Josh ...................................................... 34.

It’s been a BIG couple of months for CALM, culminating in the very cool Tom, Dick & Harry graffiti project at the end of March. It may come as a shock to many that 3 young men end their lives every single day in this country, and to get this little known fact out there to the public, three graffiti artists, Koze, Richt and 45rpm from Soulful Collective, got together and artworked three billboards for CALM on London’s ‘trendy’ Old Street. The middle board was painted live on site, where many people came along and braved near arctic conditions to watch the trio paint a twenty-foot ‘dick’ in public. And what a fine looking dick it was too. Ahem. Anyway, check out Tom, Dick & Harry in their technicolour glory on this issue’s cover and in our Art Show Special. We also have some wise words from none other than professional cockney swearer Danny Dyer (thanks to our Xpress Project mates), we tackle cyber bullying, losing a twin, Dan Jones introduces London’s best barbers, Mister Mumbles ‘does’ festivals and find out if you are a ‘Standard Issue Lad’. For your sake, we hope not…plus check out our regular features from Frazzled Daddy, The Rant and as always, the awesome Dear Josh fields your questions and sets the world to rights. Don’t be a ‘dick’. Get stuck in...

Need Help? Call CALM. London: 0808 802 58 58 Nationwide: 0800 58 58 58 Lines open 7 days a week 5pm - midnight Want to advertise with us? Email editor@thecalmzone.net CALMzine is printed on paper from sustainably managed sources. Printed by Symbian Print Intelligence, paper from Gould International UK.

CREDITS EDITOR: Rachel Clare DESIGNER: Silvina De Vita COVER ART: Koze, 45rpm, Richt with thanks to Jade Trott. GINGER ASSASSIN: Oli Mosse VAN DRIVER’S ASSISTANT: Katie Barton CALM S.I.L: Charlie Morrison ‘OMG IT’S TUESDAY’ MANAGER: Niamh Brophy CALM DIRECTOR: Jane Powell Contributors: Charlie Morrison, Rachel Clare, Jack H, Ben Tallon, Dan Jones, James Nock, Drew Gepp, Matt Brown, Chris Owen, Mister Mumbles, Chris Sav, Josh Idehen, Jade Trott, Musy Shan, Danny Allison. Special thanks to Jade, Mike, Alex and Carrie at BMB and Nicola at Dawbell for their amazing dedication, energy and creativity, and to Mark Cooper and JCDecaux for their generosity and support. Thanks to Topman for their ongoing support

CALMzine is the first port of call for all your manspiration needs. We all have issues at the end of the day, so what do you want to talk about? Who do you want us to talk to? We want to hear from YOU. Email us your ideas and views at editor@thecalmzone.net If you want the hard stuff, go to the CALM website: www.thecalmzone.net or follow us on twitter @CALMzine thecalmzone.net - CALMzone Helpline London: 0808 8025858 Outside london: 0800 58 58 58

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ARE YOU A STANDARD Let’s ISSUE LAD? hope not…

BY CHARLIE MORRISON

During an exciting and eventful three years as an undergrad, I was fortunate enough to have been part of a diverse friendship circle only capable of manifesting itself in the extraordinary institutional subculture of University. Brought together from all corners of the UK, a fascinating clash of cultures and ideologies resulted in the creation of a closed group on Facebook, named SIL! (Standard Issue Lad) The creation of this group stemmed from the social observations and reinterpretation of ‘Lad Culture’ from the least ‘Laddish’ male member of our circle. Let’s call him Bob. Bob’s pride and joy was his Toyota Yaris, his drink of choice was red wine and he was borderline OCD with regards to personal hygiene and the cleanliness of his Toyota. Everything a typical Lad is apparently not. With his tongue more firmly stuck in his cheek than the Elephant Man, Bob created the following guidelines. Read at your peril… Many people wonder… “How do I become more of a lad…?” Well, gents, below are guidelines for how to be a right raging SIL (Standard Issue Lad): …remind people how much of an SIL you are. Constantly say “I’m a right fucking SIL”. This will both reassure yourself and those around you.

…sneeze on fellow SIL’s. Try to catch a lad off guard, as his reaction will show if he truly is a SIL or not. After all, spreading SIL germs isn’t really spreading germs, its spreading lad mojo. If he asks for antibacterial gel then you know he isn’t a true SIL. ….drive a Toyota Yaris. It has sliding back seats so when you have picked up lots of ‘poon’ and they happen to be slightly longer in the leg, they can ride in comfort. Adding to this a digital speedo-meter, a Yaris makes a SIL feel like he is in a discothèque…’boom boom shake the room’. ….have sex with your brother’s wife and then appear on Jeremy Kyle. A chance to meet Jezza and Graham enhances LAD status ten fold and is the ultimate goal of the SIL. ….don’t use toilet roll. Primarily this is because a hand and a quick rinse with the cold tap will do. But a lesser known reason is that a SIL is quite environmentally friendly…hence why so many SIL’s ride the bus…it’s not cos they’re poor, its cos they care! ….drink wine. Wine is fast becoming the cool drink. TRUST. Failing that, a Bob Marley themed green tea is a close alternative

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….talk like a cockney car sales man whenever communicating with man, woman or child. Pronouncing the word beautiful as ‘boooootiful’ is a sure fire way to sound authentic. And COOL! ….never open the door for a lady. If anything, slam the door in her face. You will not only appear more attractive to her, but also earn more lad points …only use a McDonalds straw as a weapon. Silent, deadly, disgusting and fucking hilarious!

Clearly exercising our right to be SIL’s - the removal of large furniture in small cars, on busy public main roads.

….only watch Bridget Jones’ Diary when choosing a film. An emotional rollercoaster representative of the 30 something culture of London women struggling to find love. A modern day masterpiece and, when complimented with a nice bottle of merlot, bliss! …punch each other in the groin. Just because you can. …have the word SIL tattooed on yourself somewhere. Chests, arms or foreheads are discreet places that can be easily seen if necessary. …help a fellow drunk SIL in the toilet if they need to be held to improve aim. It’s not homosexual to hold another SIL’s knob if they brandish their SIL tattoo first.

A SIL will always try and repair the belt on a tumble dryer himself before asking an expert

…go to Amsterdam with fellow lads. Beginner lads will head straight to the red light district….TRUE SIL’S will head to the blue light district! …impregnate a girl at some point because you are SUCH a lad. In this event, always name your child after a prestigious brand - McKenzie, G-Star or K-Swiss are all original and classy …listen to Ja Rule…his beats are ever so fresh and of the moment. AND FINALLY… ...appreciate windmills This is pretty much the lad gospel. BELIEVE.

A true SIL will stop at nothing to dry his arse in a public place.

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Style writer Dan Jones gets clipped and snipped across the capital…

London’s Best Barbers

IT’S SOMETHING HELL’S

FOLK BARBER

I first darkened the doors of this barbershop and salon, set up by French tattooed haircutting duo Mr Ducktail and Miss Betty, when it first opened in 2007 – and it’s still going strong. Miss Betty runs a beauty parlour out back, and Mr Ducktail works out front, and only cuts hair strictly according to ‘50s bad boy styles (using his ownbranded cola-scented hair grease) sometimes using a switchblade – earning him the nickname The Muthercutter.

Bearded Tom Bushnell, one-time Head Barber at Murdock Shoreditch, set up his own space in Bloomsbury with friend and session stylist Lee Machin last year. Their cutting room is hidden beneath a boutique on Lambs Conduit Street, a stone’s throw from men’s stores Folk, Oliver Spencer, Private White VC, and The Perseverance – a very good pub.

There are no appointments and be prepared to wait – Mr Ducktail has a fiercely loyal fanbase of hardcore Rockabilly guys, and there’s often a queue of tough-nuts outside the store even before it opens. Unit 2.16 Kingly Court, W1B 5PW 07896 153491 www.itssomethinghells.com). 11am-7pm Tues-Sat. Oxford Circus tube.

Inside, there are two barbers’ chairs, cups of tea, Tom’s excellent playlist, and sometimes a dog on a blanket. They also style hair for editorial shoots for titles like Fantastic Man and Another Man; twice a year close-up shop to work at London Collections: Men or fly off to Milan Fashion Week, and Tom’s been known to cut the hair of a certain Arctic Monkey, Alex Turner – so you’re in very safe hands. Haircuts are £35.

Basement, 53 Lambs Conduit St, WC1N 3NB (www.folkbarber.tumblr.com). Tues-Sat 11am-7pm.

HURWUNDEKI

JOE & CO

SHARPS at BEN SHERMAN

Opposite the infamous Metropolis strip club and wedged beneath a railway arch sits Hurwundeki – the café, gallery, bric-a-brac and vintage clothing shop, and hair salon, that churns out pizzas, Korean bibimbap, and super sharp hair styling. Outside is a ramshackle pebble beach with faded, creepy-looking fairground carousel rides, and inside the brick walls and gnarly wood fixtures seem to wobble when a train goes by overhead – it’s like the end of the world, but with haircuts. At weekends the café and salon are packed – and a group of nervous-looking dishevelled men wait for their cut with head barber and owner Ki Chul Lee. The concept is simple – drop in, pay £9 and Ki snips and clips for 15 minutes. He’s incredibly fast – and you’re out the door in, well, 15 minutes. You might get a compliment, too – Ki said I had “a good face,” which makes him one of my favourite barbers ever.

The Joe in question is Joe Mills, owner and founder of nearby salon The Lounge and Soho’s unofficial Don of hair who has been cutting in the neighbourhood since the late ‘90s. Joe & Co is his men’s barbershop project – a bright, contemporary and friendly space hidden down a Soho sex alley. Joe’s flipped a finger to the faux heritage style of many London barbershops, and has pared down Joe & Co’s look and treatment list so only the best bits remain. Japanese cutting chairs, fancy hair and skin products, and guest beers complete the experience. With a nice sideline in session work, Joe & Co mix in grooming for fashion shoots with their usual shop clients and, with a cut, wash and restyle at £42 and a wet shave at £38, it may be at the upper end of pay scale, but Joe and the team are worth it, honest.

Sharps is the US-founded barber chain that has something of a no-nonsense approach to the art of grooming (or as they would call it, “prep”). Great locations, reasonable price list, and excellent haircuts. With another branch inside Topman Oxford Circus, Sharps’ in-store site at Islington’s Ben Sherman store is perfectly laid out – a bright, vintage-edged space with proper barbershop ephemera. It’s just £26 for a cut, and £16.50 for a beard and moustache trim, and a Hot Towel Reviver – all the best bits of a wet shave, but without the shaving bit. At the end of April, the empire grew a little bit bigger as Sharps’ Charlotte Street flagship moved to a bigger site nearby at 9 Windmill Street with deli, barista-grade coffee, and a tasty food pop-up from NYC.

299 Railway Arches, Cambridge Heath Rd, E2 9HA (www.facebook.com/ hurwundeki). 7am-7pm Mon-Fri; 9am-7pm Sat, Sun. Bethnal Green tube.

7 Greens Court, W1F 0HQ 020 7734 7000 www.joeandco.net). Tues-Fri 10am-8pm; 10am-6pm Sat. Piccadilly Circus tube.

Ben Sherman, 1 Camden Walk, N1 8DY (020 7359 9852/ www.bensherman.com/ sharps-barbers). Tues-Sun 9am-7pm. Angel tube. Find Dan Jones’ site, all about London stores and style, at www.jonestownlondon.com

INNER LIFE Fear and Loathing in the Job Centre BY James Nock

I’m an unemployed single dad, on welfare and hiding behind closed curtains, for fear of being lynched. I am guilty of being on benefits and fear the Knee Jerk Reactionary’s wrath. Don’t mention you are unemployed to anyone. Don’t lift a box, move house or fix your car or you’ll be receiving a letter from the ‘powers that be’ for a visit. ‘Shirkers Hotline’ called, someone somewhere next door/over the road satisfied. “He’s on benefits and carrying stuff so why’s he not working? He mustn’t get away with being unemployed”. Really, is it that simple? Do you know the diverse complexities that make up my fragile life? You don’t know me, all you know is I’m an unemployed, single dad. I am also trying my best to keep my own and my young family’s head above water. Never judge a man until you’ve walked a day in his shoes. This old adage has never been more relevant than it is right now. Think outside the box before you make assumptions. Believe me, it’s not fun sitting at home hanging out with my close pals, depression and anxiety. I also read and hear the alienating political lines

fuelling the disdain towards people in my situation. I’m going stir crazy. I’ve not got it good. I’m not defrauding the system. I’m not lazy, or work shy. Don’t put your anger and job dissatisfaction onto me. Talk to me about it and we can understand each other’s frustrations. The question ‘You’ve not found work yet?’ makes me cringe, as does ‘So, what do you do?’ when you meet new people. I’m embarrassed. It seems you are only valued on your employment status. I’m not happy with my situation. I’m collateral damage - an acceptable consequence of others’ wealth needs. What is a shirker? Am I one? I’m not even sure I’ve spelt it right. When you become unemployed it seems you lose your right to pride and dignity. You are instantly labelled, assumptions are made – you are a modern day social pariah. I’d like to find happiness in my job hunt. It’s tough and totally demoralising. I put the effort into applying for many jobs, some of which I have no hope in getting, but just want a chance. I get disheartened when I see the position I want and read in the job description the words ‘bank staff only’. Too good to be true.

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I used to turn up to various offices on a job-hunting walkabout and just ask, in my shirt and tie, if there was any work, and more often than not there was. Here’s my CV, interview Wednesday morning. Those were the days. You can’t even turn up showing initiative to businesses with your CV anymore. I’ve tried. A lot. How can I help you? //WHEN YOU ‘Hello. Aren’t you looking all smart!’, BECOME UN- the reception supervisor would EMPLOYED IT say, with a glint in his eye. SEEMS YOU I’d ask if I could talk to the LOSE YOUR manager and if there are any vacancies. RIGHT TO PRIDE AND I’d almost immediately be DIGNITY. cut down with a change in YOU ARE and a condescending INSTANTLY tone sorry I can’t divulge that LABELLED, ‘I’m information, you’ll have to look ASSUMPat our website’. TIONS ARE MADE – The next place would the YOU ARE A same, but this time I ask if they take people on, on a MODERN DAY SOCIAL voluntary basis, but get the PARIAH. // same response. Look at the website, mate.

Lack of experience is my Achilles heel. I stayed at home and brought my kids up rather than pursue a long-term career. When divorce came, I had nothing to fall back on. I’ve two primary age kids and no real childcare network so I can’t work in kitchens or the service industry. I’d love to do manual, hands-on work but a spinal injury cocked those opportunities up a long time ago. I’m limited to roles I’ve had no experience in, entry level positions where I’m up against recent graduates and people in their early

twenties without children, mortgages or limitations to their time. These are roles I can’t get experience in because no one seems to want to put in the time to train me up. Catch 22, right there. Unemployment seems an enigma and so does employment. There are no real training opportunities out there. The degree I got a couple of years ago is going to seed, and seems pretty worthless in my search for work. The belief that a degree and an education would stand me in good stead has left me in debt and on my arse. I’d like to study literacy and learn how to teach it. There is no funding and the Welfare State won’t help, ‘You will have to come off benefits to go to college’, the lass behind the desk would say. How can I afford to do that? I want a career that will help me develop and progress, a career that will help me build my self-esteem and confidence and give me back my pride. I was put on a ‘back to work’ programme that won’t return my calls or help me out. I’m still waiting. If it were the other way round, my Job Seekers Allowance would be stopped. Goalposts are constantly moved, new stigmas and propaganda are developed which serve to alienate those in need of stability and help. Are people concerned or surprised that others are on a financial and emotional knife-edge? Are they fuck! Just look straight ahead, ignore it and carry on regardless. Oh, good kind hearted blue, where has your philanthropy gone? Go on, flick out the lint tight wallet and boast again of how you put lucky unemployed people to work in your businesses, or stimulated a community for a short while. They say the employed are never more than 3 months away from homelessness, for the unemployed, sooner. But what can we do when we live at the mercy of others?

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MISTER MUMBLES’ Festival Field Notes CALMzine’s well-heeled hack swaps his brogues for boots of the wellington persuasion and wades out into the quagmire of music festival etiquette. As you ought well to know by now, I do enjoy a jolly good knees-up. Take these ruddy muddy music festivals for example. Hundreds of people in a field swaying back and forth at sunset, videoing Coldplay on their mobile telephones and having a blooming marvellous time of it as they do so! Of course, it wasn’t always this way. Things weren’t always so civilised. Once upon a time, festivals were illmannered affairs where you couldn’t so much as put your vegan falafel wrap down for a second without some chap high on magical dung truffles trying to make love to it. Happily, things aren’t like that anymore. Thanks to David Cameron’s Big Society initiative, these music festivals have become wonderful, family-friendly spaces where the youngsters can have just as much fun taking their horse tablets and wizzle-stick powder as their mothers and fathers do. Nowadays, good manners and gentile behaviour rule the day, from the dance tent to the toilets and twice back again. Naturally, such a seismic shift in festival culture can present something of a headache to those amongst us who haven’t been to one since Glastonbury 1992. Do not fear though, dear reader! I have metaphorical aspirin right here to sooth thine throbbing brow, and help thee avoid making those embarrassing festival faux pas that lesser menfolk might.

Mud In the olden days, festival mud used to be a mucky mixture of cow pat, human effluence, rainwater, fag ends and of course, churned up earth, turf and worm poo. It was certainly not the sort of thing you’d ever consider rubbing on your face – unless of course you were completely off it. However, with the advent of corporate sponsorship came cleaner, healthier filth. Nowadays don’t be surprised to see the ladies off Loose Women wandering about the site with full face packs on as their gnarled, leathery skin drinks in the essential oils of the L’Oreal-sponsored mud. And fair play to them, I say!

Toilets Remember those blue port-a-loos that looked a bit like the Turdis off Dr. Who? Well cherish those memories, as festival toilets have been reincarnated. No longer must you hover anxiously above a piddly seat, hurriedly adding your plop to the mountain of plop beneath your trembling buttocks, oh no. Upon entering the site you are fitted with a catheter and a colostomy bag combo (generously included in the ticket price) allowing you complete freedom to wee and poo wherever, whenever. Colostomy bags and catheters are to be emptied in the collection points provided, or hurled at the stage during The Rolling Stones.

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Food Although the standard of festival fare has improved enormously over the past decade or seven, it pains me to say that you will still occasionally stumble across the odd stall selling non-gourmet burgers and the like. These vendors are to be avoided at all costs! Make a beeline instead for the world food stand where you can have your horsemeat patty served in a guiltfree, gluten-free ciabatta with an organic lettuce leaf garnish and a smearing of Dijon mustard, all for a very competitive £11. (Chips are extra). Oh, and don’t forget to throw the wrappers on the floor once you’ve finished – they’re 100% biodegradable you know!!

Drink There was a time when people used to bring wheelbarrows full of alcohol with them to festivals. It gladdens my heart to say that’s all been put a stop to now – and not a moment too soon, either! Quite frankly, there’s absolutely no need to bring your own barrow of booze to a latter day festival, not when there’s barrow loads to choose from onsite. From fruity cider to lager and um, normal cider, there’s something to please even the pickiest of punters’ pernickety palates. And at only £5 a pint? I’ll drink to that! Cheers Michael Eavis, I love you and your upside down beard face. Now kiss me you mad fool!

Attire And so to the tricky question of what to wear. In your heyday, you may recall sporting a tie-dye top, some voluminous combat trews and a set of dreadful locks down to your knees. Go to a festival in that type of

crazy get up these days, and you’ll likely be turned away at the gate, bundled onto a shuttle bus bound for the nearest barbers then brought back via River Island. Let me make it plain. In order to get ahead (and indeed, get head) at a latter day festival, you must sport the designated uniform of festivality, straw hat and all. It’s the only way us silly posh twits will get our willies sucked, don’t you see daddy?!

Music Lest we forget, the whole point of a music festival is the music itself. It doesn’t matter if you don’t know who any of the people are who are playing –these days bands come and go so quickly that last year’s big headliners are now the guys working on the car park gates to make sure you don’t accidentally run over Billie Piper while you’re reversing the 4x4. The best thing to do is to choose seven or eight acts that noone’s ever heard of, then go and video them on your mobile telephone. Immediately upload the footage to facebook then wait for the “likes” to start rolling in before secretly nipping off to see The Lumineers or Mumford & Sons (don’t post anything about it on facebook though because this sort of music is dirty. Dirty and wrong.) Wot ho! So there we have it. Everything you need to know to have a smashing time at the festivals this summer. Well, not quite everything. See, I’d recommend you bring a set of earplugs too, for you may end up camped next to me and let it be said – I don’t hold back when I’m making love to my vegan falafel wrap. Awoooooooooooooooo! @mister_mumbles

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If I’m honest, I’ve wanted to meet Danny Dyer since Human Traffic, but my motivations are slightly different now than in 1999 when the film was released. Back then, his character made me laugh and I wanted to share a beer with his on screen portrayal of ‘Moff’. Now…? Now I’ve grown genuinely interested in the man. Everyone has preconceptions of famous people in an age of celebrity obsession, when lives are lived so publicly, but I wanted to see for myself. On Twitter, Mr D Dyer swings from a friendly gent, to an angry man, defending himself openly against the keyboard cowards who lash out at him because they have taken exception to his on screen persona. So we wanted to talk to him about film and acting and his own personal story. We meet Danny at his agent’s offices in central London on a cold Monday morning and despite his questioning of our decision to have a chat on the rooftop, in February, he seems in good spirits. “For me, drama was the only thing I was any good at in school.” He says. “I went to a really basic comprehensive school. It was the only school in the area that had no school uniform, you know? It was deep in East London and it wasn’t really cool to do work. I could go back to school now, I’d like to learn, because as you get older, you get wiser and knowledge is a beautiful thing. But as a kid, you just don’t think that way. Every other subject I completely struggled in, but when I walked into that drama class I felt at home. I think everybody has a talent, no matter who you are or where you’re from. Sadly, some people never discover it. Whether it’s playing an instrument, acting, painting - some people go through life without ever scratching the surface and I think that’s a travesty.”

He looks down, seemingly lost in consideration of his statement and it’s plain to see that Danny Dyer is a deep thinker, regardless to your preconceptions about the man. He seems genuinely distressed, considering the scenario that one might never unearth a natural talent in life. “I loved drama from the start and I felt at home.” He continues. “I found it so easy and I struggled with the reasons why others couldn’t do it. I couldn’t understand why they’d be embarrassed. But then I’d walk in an English class and it would be like Arabic to me. I couldn’t understand anything. I was rubbish at maths. I have always been interested in history and sociology, but coursework and exams just didn’t come naturally to me. I’d switch off and get bored. I would bunk off most days and just show up for drama because I loved it so much, but I never thought of it as a career. Coming from East London back then, there were no avenues. I used to go to after school clubs and I’d be the only boy there. It was all girls and I’d get a lot of grief from my mates, but I didn’t give a f**k because I loved it and I’m so glad I stuck at it. If I’d conformed to be ‘one of the lads,’ I wouldn’t be sat here talking to you now. I don’t know what I would be doing.”

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THE CALM

INTERVIEW:

By Ben Tallon

Does Danny’s work in film serve as a vehicle for expression? How does film and his creative work help him personally? “Other than my family and my children, it’s the one thing that keeps me going. It makes me feel alive. There’s no better feeling than when I’m on set. I’m never more alive than I’m being creative, bringing something to the table. I can be quite lazy. Some days, I do suffer with depression. Depression is a weird thing. I have a beautiful family, I have a nice house and I have money. Yet some days I just cannot get out of bed. When I am on set, it’s a totally different thing – I cannot wait to jump out of bed and get on set, twelve hour days, outside on a night shoot, in the cold, whatever – people respect me for it. I think respect plays a big part in happiness. When a person respects you, it’s a great feeling.” How much of Danny Dyer’s on screen persona is Danny Dyer the man? It’s an easy assumption that the characters he plays in the likes of ‘The Business,’ ‘Football Factory’ and ‘Human Traffic’ are all versions of himself. Is this the case? I ask how he feels about that.

“I’ll be the first to admit that I play myself. // I think that’s what acting is, in a sense. I think it’s about bringing out the best FOR ME, of what you’re about. Bringing a bit of DRAMA charisma to it and drawing on your most WAS THE interesting traits is key. Some actors aim ONLY to be more of a chameleon, but I would THING look at myself as more of an old school I WAS actor, like years ago. Jimmy Stuart and ANY GOOD actors like that would play themselves AT IN and would still be brilliant. You’d still SCHOOL. want to watch them. I’d like to have the // opportunity to do different things but I have tried that and people don’t want to see it. I’ve played gay characters and people are like, ‘what you doing that for?’ You tend to find your niche audience and that’s what people want you to do. It puts bums on seats and that’s how fickle the game is. I’m not trying to change the world, I’m lucky to have a great job but I’m just feeding my kids like everybody else. Every now and again I like to go off and do a bit of theatre to show that I am a serious actor. You need a kick up the arse. There’s no better buzz. It’s tough. Eight shows a week, twice on a Wednesday, twice on a Saturday, it can grind you down but as an actor, you need to do it”

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How do the government’s decision to cut budgets within the arts sit with Danny? It’s been suggested that the closure of many youth centres and facilities will deprive young people of a path into creative pursuits and given Danny’s own route into the arts, I ask how he feels about this. “To be honest, at the moment it’s a fucking joke. There’s no incentive to be a success in this country. I think there’s been a period where it’s been easier to just sign on and bang out // a couple of kids and sit in the IT’S NOT NICE HAV- flat. I think if you believe in ING TO READ ABOUT yourself and you really want YOURSELF AND it, I am living proof that you LEARN THAT SOME can do it. You just have to try every avenue possible. Buy PEOPLE HAVE THE The Stage newspaper and look COMPLETELY WRONG IDEA ABOUT through it, look for any classes YOU. I KNOW SOME - most of them are free. Go for any castings, any auditions, THINGS I’VE DONE do whatever you can to get in HAVEN’T HELPED, I’M front of people and show them NOT COMPLETELY that you are talented. It’s about INNOCENT. confidence and the hardest part // is the rejection. For every one part I get I lose out on twenty and it hurts - it never gets any easier. Nobody owes anybody a career so you have to get out there and find it, grab it with both hands. It can happen to anybody. It’s never too late.”

In amongst Danny’s documentaries was the unexpected ‘I Believe In UFOs’ BBC3 documentary - an interesting departure for sure. I had to ask. Immediately he sits forward on his seat, hands aloft. “The reason I did that was to get away from all the Deadliest Men type documentaries. You obviously open yourself up for criticism, you know? All the documentaries I did were about violence so I wanted to completely turn it on its head. I get mocked for that show a lot but I do divide people quite a bit. The more success you have, the more people knock you for it. Sure, the documentaries I’ve made have done me no favours, but there’s a real hatred towards me out there… They’d never say things to my face, like all cowards, but people attack me through Twitter. I’ve had people say awful things about my children... If you don’t like me, fair enough. If you don’t like my movies, whatever. You’re entitled to your opinion but why would you bring innocent children into it? It’s disgusting. This campaign, for CALM makes total sense because when that behaviour is going on, it makes you understand why people can get down and start doubting themselves. I’m not going to lie - it can get you down. It’s not nice having to read about yourself and learn that some people have the completely wrong idea about you. I know some things I’ve done haven’t helped, I’m not completely innocent. But I think I surprise a lot of people when they meet me and realise I’m a decent person. We’re all human beings at the end of the day and we all have feelings but you’ve got to focus on the positive things in your life and rise above it.”

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SOULFUL CREATIVE TOM, DICK AND HARRY SPECIAL Interview by Rachel Clare

Last month, graffiti artists Koze, 45rpm and Richt from Soulful Creative teamed up to design and live paint billboards in East London to illustrate the fact that three young men end their lives every day in this country. The amazing ‘Tom, Dick & Harry’ was the result. We caught up with Koze to talk to him about the project…

I personally have lost two good friends when I was younger through suicide and this was an opportunity we couldn’t resist, working with an amazing charity that fits so well with Soulful Creative ethos of selfexpression and brightening up the world around us.

- Why did you get involved?

The phrase Tom, Dick & Harry means everyone, so by creating each name in a very different styles of graffiti art, this helps reinforce the message through visual communication where personality is brought into the names through style and colour.

We where approached by [ad agency] BMB about this great project, to help raise the awareness and profile of CALM through the creation of graffiti art.

- What does the message mean to you?

- Tell us a bit about Soulful Creative…

- When did you start painting?

Soulful Creative is a creative studio collective of graffiti artists, illustrators, graphic designers and contemporary artists who work together in creating fresh, unique and visually engaging creative solutions that either tell a story or brand message. We specialise in the magic of making handcrafted artwork that works across many different media in all sizes, from small to very large.

I started writing graffiti back many moons ago in 1984. During the break dance craze, I saw graffiti on the Rock Steady Crew’s 12” covers and I wanted to do it myself, so I started to copy this and try my own things out.

- Who is your own personal graffiti hero? Personally I’d say Dondi CIA, a legendary New York subway graffiti artist from the 1970’ & 80’s. His book Style Master General just blew me away, with page after page of amazing subway graffiti pieces created in very difficult settings that still look incredible today.

- What is the best advice you’ve ever been given? Sometime ago a very good artist said to me “Always be true to yourself, follow your dreams and they will come true one day”. www.soulfulcreative.co.uk twitter: @SoulfulCreative

What•Not•To•Do

while waiting for your album to be released By Musy Shan

Musy Shan dishes out advice for all you budding Radioheads out there… Congratulations! You have finished your debut album! Thirteen songs (11 if you don’t count interludes) are everything you have to show for creative potential, failed relationships, fall outs with former close friends, missed career paths, empty bank accounts and the millions of IOU notes to everyone who still believes in you and lends you money (and by everyone, I mean ‘your mother, because daddy wasn’t around/doesn’t play that way and insists you get a real job’). You’ve mixed and mastered the tracks, fought over whether the artwork should be the head of a pig or a drawing of a bespectacled penguin riding atop a rhino, which was drawn by Fredric, the drummer’s boyfriend, who’s pretty terrible artist to be honest, but hey, band politics. You’ve got a label releasing the album and a PR company handling the press. Everything’s finished now and that’s all that matters; the wheels are in motion. Hell, you’ve even picked a release date: three whole months from now. And this is what I want to talk to you about. See, that waiting period is where trouble sets up its tent. You’ve gone from

the most intensely creative/frustrating period in your life (the album making) to doing nothing (nothing). The album’s finished and you are not used to doing nothing so if you’re anything like me –violently neurotic about my music and determined to succeed but not as determined as, say, an X Factor contestant - your mind is running through all the other ways to get your music out there. Idle hands, my mother would say, are the devil’s search engine, so here are things not to do while you’re waiting for your album to be released.

1. Do Not Give Your Album to Friends To Critique NO! NO! Sweet crusty bread Jesus No! Friends opinions, at this point in time, don’t matter one lick of a pigeon poop lollypop. If you’re anything like me, your opinion of your own work will vary depending on the day, the inches of snow on the dustbin, a phone call, if you stubbed your toe, how much is in your bank account, and the opinions of people you consider worthy of sending an album to. If he likes it, then he

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will like it on release date. If he doesn’t like it, and you agree with him, then there’s nothing you can do about it, because it’s finished, see. But because it’s not released yet, you end up in the weird limbo arena where you become obsessed over the comment your ‘Friend’ made about the drums on track seven sounding like armpit trumpets. But there is nothing.you.can. do. NOTHING. What You Definitely Should Not Do: Send the album to ‘a bunch of your mates.’ God help you if they all have lives of their own and they don’t get back to you ASAP. God help you even more if you meet them in real life at a bar or some-such and you have a conversation about, I dunno, their mother’s recent brain bypass and their break up with their partner of seven years and you make all the necessary parps about how sorry you are and they walk away like you didn’t send them your album twelve days ago and you’re dying for a response right now. Indifference is a bitch.

2. DO NOT Send Promo Copies To Music Blogs Yourself. Listen, dear Album Finisher. In an ideal world, you would give the album to Mr Blog, Mr Blog would listen and then he’d write something on his blog about you and that would be the end of that. But we do not live in an ideal world; we live in a world where no one has as yet thrown a shoe at David Cameron and blogs almost always only talk to PR companies. You haven’t got a PR company? Don’t be stupid with your stupid self; go get a PR company, or at least, get someone who knows a little about marketing to handle the marketing. Because Mr Blog’s email address is currently crying under the weight of a thousand plus emails from other people whose jobs are to get Mr Blog to click ‘Play’. Mr Blog usually reserves Tuesday to weed through them and he’s basically looking for any excuse to hit that delete button such as spelling errors, (because

there will be spelling errors) , plus NEVER send press emails at the weekend, you fool. AlbumPRing is a delicate procedure. Leave PR well alone to the PR witches.

3. Do Not Give Your Fans The Silent Treatment Look, there are a section of artists who can afford to say nothing to their fans for years and then be, like ‘album tomorrow. Boom’ on twitter and said fan base collectively defecates in their trousers the world over. If you’re reading this article, you probably do not belong to that select few; you belong to the category I would fondly describe as the ‘struggling musician.’ Chances are you have fans; maybe you can // fill up a three hundred capacity YOU’VE venue with a good month’s worth GONE FROM of promotion. That fan base are not THE MOST following you around, no matter INTENSELY what twitter tells you, and will CREATIVE/ most likely leave your ass for, oh, FRUSTRATI don’t know, Band #987n down ING PERIOD the road if you aren’t delivering OF YOUR LIFE the goods. Sure, it’s a romantic (THE ALBUM) notion to be the ‘mysterious’ artist, TO DOING it’s also a romantic notion to grow NOTHING wings and shit all over The House (NOTHING).// of Parliament. Since neither is going to happen, now is the time to let people know. Start a countdown, post lyrics, share artwork, talk about how you’re ‘just dying to share your new songs with the world,’ make videos. Now is the time to strengthen the bond between you and the people who will be feeding you throughout your tour/taking you into their homes and lending you their sofa when your credit card is declined at Travelodge in Staines. Don’t leave them in the dark until week before release and get all pissy because they aren’t excited about your life’s work now that’s its on Bandcamp, because nobody wants their album still on the shelf when HMV closes down for good.

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THE CONSTANT search for my

TWIN It wasn’t until maybe the fifth session of counselling that I revealed to my therapist that I used to be an identical twin. I had always known about my twin. My parents had always made sure that I knew. Whenever the strange family ‘twin’ story was recounted, usually around the time of my birthday, I felt nothing and dismissed it. After all how could I possibly feel anything or miss someone I never knew?

BY JACK H

Andrew and I were born in a small hospital on the outskirts of Newcastle in February 1979. The winter of ‘79 was bitterly cold and turned out to be one of the coldest on record. My Mam was admitted to hospital with high blood pressure and was in for a little over a month. She was glad when her labour finally began, she was sick of her food cravings and eating cups of snow. I was the first to arrive and was quickly placed into my Mam’s arms. A few minutes later Andrew appeared but instead of joining me he was rushed away to intensive care by the Doctors. Andrew was having trouble breathing and, sadly, died a few hours later. My Dad was the only one to see Andrew and he later told me that he looked like an exact replica of me. In my late twenties I decided it was about time I addressed an issue that had affected me for

as long as I could remember. I had always felt a profound sense of loneliness, of something just not being quite right. Even today it remains hard to put into words the way I felt. It was like I was constantly searching for something or someone that could never be reached. Maybe knowing all along I was a twin should have shed some light on the way I felt earlier, but knowing something and feeling something are completely different It just didn’t connect. During the counselling process I confronted deep feelings of loss, and explored the grief and anger I felt for the brother I never had. I felt the need to talk to my Mam about what I was going through and she wondered why it had taken me so long to have the conversation with her. We talked and cried together. My Mam told me that she felt cheated. Two boys was the deal, not one. It’s sad to think that my parents received no support for their loss of a child and weren’t even offered a burial ceremony for Andrew. I guess that’s how they did things back then. It was around 3am on the night after that particular therapy session that it all finally connected. I woke up in floods of tears and was sobbing uncontrollably in my bed. I sat up, turned on my bedside lamp, grabbed my laptop and started tapping words into google. Dead twin... Lost twin... Twin died at birth....Almost straight away I found a website

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that was solely dedicated to this very subject. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. It turned out that I was a ‘Womb Twin Survivor’. I was amazing to find out that there was a name for how I felt and there were many people around the world who had experienced the same sense of loss as I did. I didn’t know why it was important for me but the final piece of the puzzle was finding where my brother was buried. After a few phone calls I managed to find a friend of the family who used to work for the hospital I was born in and she gave me the name of the church where the stillborn babies were buried. It was a cold dark October night and the church was pitch black. I held my phone out at arms length and used the dim light to find my way along the wet leafy path. After about 20 minutes of unsuccessful

I HAD ALWAYS FELT A PROFOUND SENSE OF LONELINESS, OF SOMETHING JUST NOT BEING QUITE RIGHT.

searching I found the spot which was marked by a small plaque in the very corner of the cemetery. After 29 years of searching I had finally found my brother. The sky that night was crystal clear and the stars were bright. I found a bench nearby, looked up, smiled and said “Hello Andrew how you doing mate?”. I apologised for taking so long to visit and told him how much I missed him not being here. I must have sat on that bench in the darkness for the best part of an hour, updating him on how I was doing. It felt like the most natural thing in the world for me to do. After all, I was simply having a chat with my little Bro. I’m doing okay now, psychologically. I still have the strange feeling of being only half, but now I understand it and that seems enough. After my journey I decided I wanted to help other people do the same and I’m well on my way to becoming a psychotherapist. The negative psychological impact that can be caused by the death of a twin either In Utero or post birth seems to be significant for many people. How do children mentally process these early implicit losses? There are stories of toddlers looking in draws and under beds for ‘lost’ siblings. I wonder how many others out there have a similar story to tell? I was lucky, because deep down I knew; it just took time to connect the dots. I wander how many people out there don’t know, and are still searching for their lost twin?

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Ambassador’s Reception

Introducing

DJ Q For the uninitiated, DJ Q, is a Huddersfield born DJ, a regular fixture on BBC Radio 1Xtra and has his own show on Ministry of Sound Radio. Teamed with MC Bonez, he is also known for his single, “You Wot!”. As one of our newer ambassadorial recruits, we wanted to find out more… So Why CALM? I think CALM is a really good cause. The statistics for suicide amongst young men is shocking. It’s great that CALM is helping to raise awareness of the problem What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever been given? My grandma always used to say to me “Always treat people how you want them to treat you” What is your one ‘lifesaver’ track guaranteed to make you feel better when things get tough?

Has to be Nitelife by Kim English. No matter what mood i’m in, this song always brings a smile to my face. What is your one rule for living life? My one rule for life has to be ‘Don’t sit around and wait for it to come. Go out and get it!’ DJ Q has donated an exclusive 14 track mixtape ft Artful Dodger, Jakwob, Walker & Royce and more for CALM readers to download. Go to the CALM website to get your hands on it: www.thecalmzone.net/2013/04/djq/ You can catch DJ Q on Essential Garage Show on Ministry of Sound Radio, every Monday from 9pm. http://www.djqmusic.com @DJQ85

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CALM COMPETITION Everyone loves a T-Shirt, right? Right. Well, that’s just the tip of the iceberg for this issue’s CALM competition prize. Win a great big CALM goodie bag replete with such juicy treats as a copy of the awesome Thirty One Songs album featuring the likes of Elbow, Delphic, Mr Scruff and some bloke called Noel Gallagher, our awesome new SAVE THE MALE Tee, as well as a VERY limited edition TOM, DICK & HARRY TEE. Plus the usual healthy dose of guitar picks, badges, key rings and back issues. Because you’re worth it… To get your hands on this priceless bundle of goodies answer this simple question (the answer is somewhere in this issue): Q: Name the three artists who painted the Tom, Dick & Harry billboards. Send us your answer either via our Facebook page, or email your answer to editor@thecalmzone.net and we will pick a winner at random. Competition closes June 21st 2013. The winner will be notified after this date via email. www.facebook.com/thecalmzone

FRAZZLED DADDY By Matt Brown

Two nights ago I watched Bambi for the first time. I was disappointed. I had been led to believe that I would be weeping for days when ***SPOLIER ALERT*** the mother dies. But to be frank, I found the mother quite unsympathetic and more than a little irritating. Yay, huntsman! says I. Anyway, it dawned on me that The Lion King has an almost identical scene when Mufasa dies and yet this sequence has me bawling like a schoolgirl. Could it be that we care more about the father/son relationship than we do about the mother/son relationship? Well, possibly but more likely I find the father/son relationship more emotionally charged. As I have already discussed within these pages, my relationship with my own father is like Luke and Darth’s at the end of The Empire Strikes Back. He said some things, I said some things and now we haven’t spoken for a couple of years. I think because I have a relationship of silence with my old man I tend to look for other people who also have problematic parental relationships. I seem to take solace in knowing that I am not the only one. You’d be surprised about the number of successful, witty, warm, caring, loving men who had a selfish twat as a father. Yet in my case it wasn’t always this way. For most of my life I looked up to, adored and even aspired to be like my father. My devotion to him survived my parents’ divorce, his move to another country and his chronic lack of ability to do things on the terms of another. The scales fell from my eyes when I became a father and I began to look at my own childhood through new eyes. The selfishness of my own father suddenly became intolerable to me. It was from that point on that I realised my relationship with him had to change. I’m yet to work out whether it’s for the better or not. I suppose the one thing it has now that it hasn’t had for a long time is honesty and I guess that is a good thing. I was reminded of my relationship with my father recently when I read those painful and very public texts that took place a few months ago between Chris Huhne and his son. I heard my own anger in those messages, saw the same resentment that I had shown my

father when his selfishness became more than I could bear. I don’t recommend such an outpouring as necessarily the way forward but sometimes you’ve just got to get it out. Talking, in my experience, is much better than not talking even if it is shouting very loudly at someone. However, if your father is a high profile shitbag then try and remember that your communications could end up as evidence for the prosecution. I can’t help thinking that when they were new dads, my father and Chris Huhne felt the same way about their kids as I do about mine. They will, I’m sure, have felt that nothing else in life is as important to them as the happiness of their children. However, somewhere along the road that stopped being important. They got selfish and forgot what it is means to be a dad. If my broken relationship with my dad has taught me anything it is to be mindful of such complacency. I am fully prepared to make mistakes with my sons but I’m damned if I’ll repeat the mistakes of my father. By the way, as there has been an absence of the usual top quality gags this column is known and loved for, I’ll leave you with this joke that I have just made up. Q: How many fathers does it take to change a light bulb? A: One but he’ll be a right cock about it. @frazzleddaddy

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CHARITY REG NO: 1110621

ISSUE

OUT JUNE 24TH, 2013

CHECK OUT OUR SNAZZY NEW WEBSITE Go to www.thecalmzone.net for features, opinion, forums and competitions to keep you busy until the next issue of CALMzine. Plus find out how you can get involved with the Campaign Against Living Miserably. 28 thecalmzone.net - CALMzone Helpline London: 0808 8025858 Outside london: 0800 58 58 58

Everyman by chris sav

CALMZINE

NEEDS YOU

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

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

“The problem for English women is not beauty treatment, but rather poor diet, too much fatness, too much drinking to get drunk, too much smoking.” So reads one comment on the Telegraph’s website under an article titled: ‘Why French women look younger than their British counterparts’. That the cause might be that women start using anti-ageing creams earlier in France (the thrust of the article) is “(r)ubbish” according to another commentator. Rather, apparently, there are “(f)our factors, none of them to do with cosmetics”, the first being that “Mediterranean skin tends to be less “doughy”.” The commentator summarises, “ABSOLUTE ZERO to do with anti-ageing products, which are...more generally a tax on the stupid.” Well, I’m glad we’ve got to the bottom of that. This is not the only vein of criticism that the writer receives, as it is the Telegraph there is the usual barrage of antiTory rancour. Also featured heavily is mock disbelief that a cosmetics company might finance a favourable survey (and that scheming journos would publish it for their own gain). If you search diligently enough though, in amidst it all, there are a couple of enterprising souls actually interacting with the content. The women at whom this article is targeted are unlikely to be affected by these comments, I think. The tone and drive to write is so different from the journalist’s position (the reader’s starting point) that it makes little sense that they would want empathy replaced by anger. So why comment? Why share such displaced vitriol on a public forum? Who does it?

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BULLIES IN CYBERSPACE

By Drew Gepp

The usernames suggest that these commentators are both men, and the nature of other comments suggests a heavy male skew for the article. However, the age, gender, and socio-ethnic background of these commentators - and the content, writing style etc. - varies hugely from those on Reddit or Youtube. This isn’t an exclusively male pastime, but what does seem to hold true is that the percentage of users who contribute is very low (1% is the rule of thumb in internet culture). So we have a tiny proportion of the population littering the internet with often offensive, irrelevant drivel. Pick any video on YouTube, scroll through the comments and you are guaranteed to find some surprisingly malicious views being expressed within only a few comments. Studies, are mapping this activity to conventionally recognised personality frameworks. Ross considers people’s internet activity in the context of the Five-Factor-Model (i.e. to what extent people demonstrate Neuroticism, Extroversion, Openness to Experience, Agreeableness and Conscientiousness.) Neurotic, shy, disagreeable. Sounds pretty accurate. People lashing out because of complex problems in being sociable. But would they do it if they were out and about and not protected by cyber anonymity? If I were at the pub with a female friend, and she said, ‘God, I look terrible’ and put on some anti-ageing cream around her eyes, would @albion_Hero walk over from the bar and say, ‘Look love, actually what you need to do is lay off the fags. A couple of early nights, an apple every once in a while, and three laps round Victoria park wouldn’t hurt either.’ I doubt it. If I asked the same man, on a separate occasion, to explain his views about immigration and the free market, would he start by hurling abuse, without

trying to put a cogent argument or defence together? The bile is easy to muster behind a computer screen. When it comes to articles about anti-ageing creams, I don’t really care. Unfortunately the same people, with the same dysfunctions, and the same cowardice are contributing to (predominantly teen) suicides through cyber-bullying. Of course the reasons for a young person taking their own life are manifold, but the anonymity afforded by the internet, combined with its ubiquity has created a powerful weapon for those who want to tease, insult, and harry. Worse, the very personality types who invest in their ‘online’ persona (as opposed to their ‘offline’ or real selves) are those most likely to be vulnerable. I see no end to bullying in some form - it’s a horrible, but real way that (particularly young) people define and transgress the boundaries of their social groups. However, I do see the voices of that 1% diminishing; I have two reasons. Firstly, I think that the appetite for user-interaction will refine. Businesses won’t want vitriol, neither will their consumers: collectively, we’ll start ignoring @albion_Hero. Secondly, we will create better tools to protect ourselves, and our children. People will be barred, blocked, and unable to find us, shouting into the darkness, or, more likely, mumbling. But this will pose another problem. As our behaviour on the internet matures the 1% will become increasingly marginalised. The anger and the conspiracies might fester, and we won’t know about it. For the moment the focus has to be on the vulnerable. Getting some perspective, talking. But thinking about that 1%, I just want to get them down the pub, and try to work out why they’re being such dickheads so that in five years time trolling will be no more than an historical curiosity, like the mini-disc player.

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THE RANT By Chris Owen

I’m not sure whether people have been misinterpreting The Apprentice as some kind of life manual, rather than the testament to the possible heights a narcissistic personality disorder can take you, but why the jeeping fuck can no-one use their mobile phone properly anymore? It’s really not that difficult. The speaky-bit goes where your own speaky-bit (your mouth) is, and the heary-bit goes next to your own heary-bit (ears). There. Job done. That wasn’t too difficult was it? Well apparently it IS that difficult – everyone now is holding their mobile IN FRONT of their face and shouting at it, with headphones attached. Now, I don’t think I’m being unreasonable, but isn’t that overcomplicating things? What’s worse, it means people stare at their phones while walking instead of watch where they’re going; their eyes transfixed on a screen rather than the road with lorries on it. It’s as if the millennia of evolution which led us to stand upright, look straight ahead, and be the all-conquering mammal on the planet were OOOH LOOK A TEXT! What is wrong with people? How has technology managed to make us even more stupid than we were before it arrived? Walking in a straight line and looking where you’re going really shouldn’t be a challenge. Come to think of it, neither should reading, but somehow we’ve collectively managed to balls that up too – global sales of Kindles testify to that. Presumably, actually holding a book – which, lest we forget, we were able to do just fine for 900 years – is too much strain on our poor little feeble arms; and turning a page was causing some terrible damage to our cuticles, so we need to do so digitally now. We’ve even managed to destroy the very instinct – hunter gathering – that set us aside from the animals in the forest in the first place, as now we can’t be arsed to actually GO to a shop now, and would much rather order shit online while sat in front of Jeremy Kyle stuffing our fat faces with crisps. I can only assume we’re all yearning for the day when food itself goes digital so we don’t have to bother with all that bloody chewing. And don’t get me started on Google Glasses – the day I see people (or ‘Glassholes’ as they’ll hopefully become known) walking along the street wearing one of those is the day I leave the country. Seriously, can we not, just for once, just do something ourselves without relying on a bloody computer to point it out?

Do you have something you want to rant about? Send 300 words to editor@thecalmzone.net

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ATENCIÓN! Our awesome volunteers out on the streets: Nate Woodbridge, Nur Ben Hamida, Rai Goli, Alex Badrick, Eve Cheah, Graham Goddard, Mirko Amelotti, David Kirkwood, Chris Bailey, Amy Trown, Helen Xa, Joshna Raghwani

The GAGLIONE Family, as ever. Here’s to the CALM World Cup 2013!

Familiar Creatures for playing an amazing gig and raising money for us.

Our office volunteers: Katy, Claire, Megan, Arun, Louisa, Kerim, Marcia, Holly. Particular props to Nate for being a superstar and pulling out some pretty awesome spreadsheets!

A SPECIAL SHOUT OUT TO JADE, MIKE, ALEX AND CARRIE AT BMB, MARK COOPER AND ALL AT JCDECAUX AND NICOLA AT DAWBELL FOR THEIR ENERGY, CREATIVITY AND PRECIOUS TIME. YOU CREATED A MASTERPIECE!

John Moores Uni students for your awesome CALM efforts this year.

Everyone who has run, swam, skydived and baked for us over the past few months. Your efforts are nothing short of spectacular.

Scot Williams and the cast of Hope at Liverpool Royal Court Theatre, for choosing CALM as their charity. Honoured.

Team Alan for making CALM fundraising history for a single event. Heroes, all of you.

Mark Boyns and all at Sefton Park Cricket Club. Running a half marathon in full cricket garb is no mean feat! Amazing scenes.

Big thanks to Sooz Andrews for volunteering at VolksWorld in freezing conditions. Hats off (or keep them on till it gets a bit warmer, eh)

Arek for our new CALMzine app (watch this space!)

Jack Rooke, Cecilia Knapp and the Early Doors Crew for putting on such a brilliant show at the Roundhouse and raising buckets of money. WE LOVE YOU ALL VERY MUCH.

Our entirely unprofessional agony uncle offers his entirely unprofessional advice… Q: My girlfriend likes nothing more than a spot of role-playing in the bedroom, but she has recently insisted on me wearing an arsenal strip during sexy times. As a Spurs fan, this isn’t ideal for me and is effecting my ‘performance’. What should I do? Jack, Holloway. A: IF YOU ARE A SUCH A MANIC SPURS FAN WHY ARE YOU DATING AN ARSENAL FAN? That’s like a militant Atheist dating a Christian fundamentalist; sure the conversations will be lively, but... Anyway, what’s done is done, and clearly there are some feelings between you both that burn beyond jersey colours. Either talk to her about it, or, when she makes you pretend to be an Arsenal fan, pretend that you’re pretending to be Arsenal fan, but really you’re a Spurs fan pretending to be Arsenal fan so he can get laid. When you finish, go and re-evaluate your life. Q: I’ve got a massive crush on my mate’s girlfriend. He’s a bit of a twat and I think I would be much better for her. Any tips on how to lure her away, or should I leave it be? Karl, Brockley A: All I saw in your email was blah blah blah penis blah blah blah vagina blah blah blah moral issue blah blah blah. I think the fact that she’s dating this ‘twat’ over you suggests you are maybe applying the wrong titles to the wrong people; ergo, anyone using the word twat and better boyfriend in the same sentence should not be applying for a relationship with anything past his left hand anytime soon. Q: I am a thirty year old man with a history of rock and roll excess in my younger days, but recently I’ve found myself appreciating the musical ‘talents’ of One Direction. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN AND HOW CAN I MAKE IT STOP??? Dan, Balham A: Easy. Listen to every One Direction album, over and over until you get tired of it. This always happens. I think the lingo is ‘rinsing the songs.’ Then you will be free, Thirty year old man. As to what it means: You have terrible taste and I am honour bound to look down on you. Soz. Q: I feel like people stare at me. They smirk if I walk past them in windy conditions. They whisper ‘Sideshow Bob’ to their friends when I sit down on the tube. They mistake me for panelists from the popular BBC 1 panel show, QI. What would you suggest I do to look more innocuous within society? Harry, Lambeth A: Shave. Seriously shave. Okay, don’t shave. Change your hairstyle. Stop caring what people think. Smile. Realise you’ve succeeded in life’s hardest task which is to get people to notice you without even trying. Say hello to everyone you catch staring at you and if they say hello back ask if you know them. Boom. Someone new. Do XOMan’s Quag dance.

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

NOTE: Josh is not a qualified expert. He’s just a joker. However if you do want to know some more about him, go to www.poejazzi.wordpress.com If you need professional advice, call the london CALMzone helpline on 0808 802 5858. Outside london call: 0800 585858

thecalmzone.net - CALMzone Helpline London: 0808 8025858 Outside london: 0800 58 58 58