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Frieze London 2025 — Substance Over Spectacle

https://www.frieze.com/fairs/frieze-london Chloe Chiasson Down In Saba

Frieze

Frieze London 2025.PHOTO: LINDA NYLIND. COURTESY OF FRIEZE

By Steven Smith

“This was Frieze in its most mature form — calm, confident, and beautifully human.”

This October, Regent’s Park once again became the beating heart of contemporary culture, as London’s premier art fair returned with a noticeably more reflective air. Gone were the flashing lights and social-media gimmicks that once dominated the scene — in their place, a quiet confidence and an emphasis on meaning over market value. Frieze London 2025 proved that the true allure of art lies not in the roar of spectacle, but in surprise, sincerity, and the occasional whisper that lingers long after the tents come down.

A Quieter Kind of Dazzle

Each autumn, the white tents of Frieze rise like a sleek temporary city, drawing curators, collectors, and celebrities who glide between installations and champagne bars. But this year, something had shifted. The fair felt calmer — less about performance, more about purpose.

The tone was set from the outset. New entrance pavilions — elegant aluminium structures created by A Studio Between using 75 per cent recycled metal — signalled sustainability rather than status. It was a small yet telling gesture: Frieze has grown up.

Inside, the fair’s redesigned layout provided space to breathe. Instead of the crowding and visual overload of previous years, this edition privileged air, light, and contemplation. And what stood out most was originality. You weren’t left thinking “Hirst homage” or “Bacon knock-off” — though artistic lineage was there — the work felt boldly its own.

“It’s still dazzling, but with a steadier gaze.”

A Fair with Focus

Otobong Nkanga, Cadence-While We Wait and Watch, (2025).PHOTO: © OTOBONG NKANGA, COURTESY LISSON GALLERY

Frieze remains vast — more than 280 galleries across Frieze London and Frieze Masters — yet this year’s coherence was striking. Focus, the section dedicated to younger galleries, became its emotional anchor. Thirty-plus exhibitors explored climate, identity, displacement, and belonging with genuine urgency rather than opportunistic messaging.

One standout installation — a delicate shelter of reclaimed textiles and timber — spoke quietly yet powerfully of “home”. No gimmicks. Just humanity.

Even the major galleries opted for subtlety. Gagosian, Hauser & Wirth, and White Cube resisted spectacle in favour of introspection: small, thoughtful works that drew viewers in rather than overwhelming them.

“Frieze 2025 is a fair about stories, not stunts.”

The Market Mood

Frieze is both cultural pilgrimage and high-stakes shop floor — and the cooling market was impossible to ignore. Economic uncertainty has made collectors judicious, especially in Britain. Yet the fair thrived precisely because it did not mask reality.

Dealers confessed that sales were careful but consistent. Relationships mattered more than rapid-fire transactions. There was less frenzy, more trust — and with it, a sense of optimism that art still carries weight when times feel lean.

Art with Intention

What defined Frieze this year wasn’t a single blockbuster piece — but a collective tone of intentionality. Works spoke across booths about survival, memory, fragility, and the search for place.

Even architecture joined the conversation. Those aluminium pavilions — modest in shine yet rich in idea — mirrored the fair’s shift: modernism stepping into mindfulness.

Once known for glamour and provocation, Frieze has found its inner voice. No longer chasing viral moments, it invited something rarer: genuine attention.

“If previous years shouted, this one spoke — and everyone listened.”

Naudline Pierre, Bathers, (2025). PHOTO: COURTESY OF NAUDLINE PIERRE AND JAMES COHAN

Moments of Stillness

Frieze 2025 balanced buzz with calm. The chatter of negotiations coexisted with long, quiet looks. Visitors paused not because works were famous — but because they were interesting.

Climate anxiety, migration and belonging were recurring ideas, but handled with nuance rather than sloganising. There was vulnerability — a powerful antidote in a world polished to a shine.

Where It Wobbles

A fair this size still overwhelms. After several hours, even the sharpest eye risks softening into what insiders call “booth blur”. And while sustainability was championed, the contradiction of air-freighted masterpieces inside temporary architecture remains unresolved.

Yet for Frieze, these were growing pains — not failings.

“After three hours, the brain begins to flatten everything into booth blur — but somehow, this year, the art fought back.”

London’s Moment

Amid market turbulence, Frieze reaffirmed London’s role as the art world’s soulful heart. Where Basel can feel clinical and New York transactional, London offers intellect tempered with humour — grit paired with grace.

A temporary city in a timeless park: that is its poetry.

https://www.frieze.com/fairs/frieze-london

In the End

Frieze London 2025 was the grown-up edition — less showmanship, more sincerity. It favoured ideas over Instagram, meaning over money. It reminded us that great art doesn’t always demand attention. Sometimes it waits. Sometimes it whispers. And sometimes, if you pause long enough, it tells you exactly what you needed to hear.

“This was Frieze in its most mature form — calm, confident, and beautifully human.”

https://www.frieze.com/fairs/frieze-london

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Columns Culture People Uncategorized

Steven’s Viewz

MUM’S NOT ALWAYS THE WORD

Steven’s Viewz


Why Katie Price Needs to Back Off and Let Her Kids Shine Without Her Interference

Growing up is never easy — not for the average teenager, and certainly not for those with famous parents. For most young people, adolescence is about carving out your own identity, deciding who you want to be, and pursuing your chosen career or further education. It’s a period of self-discovery and independence. But when your every move has been played out in the glare of the press since childhood, the challenge is far greater.

Children of celebrities live with a unique pressure. They’re often unfairly labelled with the now-infamous tag “Nepo Baby” — short for “nepotism baby” — a term referring to someone whose career mirrors or is connected to that of their famous parent. The implication is clear: their achievements aren’t earned but handed to them through family connections. The phrase is often used as an insult, suggesting that their success is unearned, undeserved, or simply the result of privilege.

Of course, this isn’t always the case. Some celebrity children go out of their way to avoid using their family name, working hard to make it on their own merits. In many instances, the public only learns of their famous parentage long after they’ve established themselves. On the flip side, stepping into the same spotlight as a parent and not quite measuring up can be devastating for mental health. The pressure to “live up to” a legacy can crush even the most talented young person.

Take Princess Andre, for example. She’s a young woman with dreams, ambition, and — crucially — talent. Under the guidance of Clare Powell, a woman I’d call a genius in the world of entertainment management, Princess has been making strides toward building her own career. Powell is the same powerhouse who played a key role in shaping Katie Price’s early career. Importantly, Katie is not directly involved in Princess’s current projects.

Stunning Princess Andrea

Now, I’ve been a huge supporter of Katie Price over the years — I’ve defended her when many wouldn’t. But on this occasion, Katie, it’s time to take a step back. In fact, take one hundred steps back. Be a proud mum, but let Princess shine without you hovering in the background. It’s about dignity — a word that doesn’t often appear in the Pricey vocabulary — and allowing your daughter to succeed on her own terms.

I have a close friend whose sons are both stars now: one’s a famous rock musician, the other a West End performer. Before their success, my friend made a conscious decision to stay out of their spotlight. No hanging around at every audition, no being photographed at every event. She let them find their own way, even if it meant watching from the sidelines. That kind of quiet support is invaluable — and something Katie could learn from.

The truth is, Princess already has “star” written all over her. Yes, her famous parents have opened some doors — there’s no denying that. But she’s also beautiful, poised, polite, and grounded in a way that the teenage Jordan (Katie’s former alter ego) simply wasn’t. While Katie at that age was known for her brashness and colourful vocabulary, Princess seems to have a quiet charm and grace that’s refreshing to see.

Of course, fame dynamics can get tricky within families. I’ve seen it happen. Sometimes a parent who’s spent years in the spotlight finds it hard when their child begins to eclipse them. I remember a friend whose mother was always the centre of attention. We once attended a concert together, and during the show, the star actually stopped mid-performance to compliment my friend’s daughter — “Who is this beauty?” they asked. The girl was thrilled. But when she turned to share the moment with her mum, the mother had vanished, unable to handle not being the one in the spotlight.

Even Hollywood royalty have faced this. Liza Minnelli once admitted that her mother, Judy Garland, struggled to accept her daughter’s fame. It’s a reminder that parental pride can sometimes be mixed with a very human sense of insecurity.

In Princess’s case, the potential is huge. She has the looks, the talent, and the personality to carve out a significant career in modelling, media, or whatever creative path she chooses. The worst thing that could happen is for her efforts to be overshadowed by her mum’s drama, headlines, or interference.

Some might argue that Katie’s involvement is only natural — after all, she’s been in the industry for decades. But let’s be honest: sometimes experience comes with baggage. Katie’s falling-out with Clare Powell has been well documented, but that shouldn’t affect Princess’s choices. Powell helped make Katie a household name in the first place. This is show business — not “show friends” — and if I had a daughter with career ambitions, I’d want her with the best possible management team. Personal disagreements shouldn’t dictate professional decisions when a young career is on the line.

Clare Powell star maker https://thecangroup.co.uk

If Katie truly wants to support her daughter, she needs to be a cheerleader, not a co-star. Let Princess have her own brand, her own media moments, and her own relationship with the public. This doesn’t mean disappearing from her life — just from her professional life. Turn up to watch from the audience, not to stand centre stage. Offer advice privately, not through the pages of a tabloid.

In today’s media-saturated world, it’s hard enough for young people to find their place without the shadow of a famous parent looming over every opportunity. Princess deserves the space to make mistakes, learn lessons, and earn her own applause. And if she’s anything like she seems — poised, polite, and full of potential — she’ll do just fine.

The bottom line? Princess Andre has a bright future. But for her to truly shine, Katie Price needs to take not one or two, but one hundred steps back — and stay there until she’s invited forward. That’s what real support looks like

.

Good luck to Jack Kay .

If proof was ever needed that you can flog your soul to the devil for fame, look no further than the sudden, stratospheric rise of Ibiza’s self-styled “final boss.” One click of a camera, one cheeky social media post, and bang — he’s out-trending the Pricey and even the Trump. That’s no small feat, considering those two can normally generate headlines by simply breathing in public.

The man behind the moniker? Jack Kay. No chart-topping singles. No Oscar-bait performances. No tell-all autobiography written “in his own words” but suspiciously sounding like it was dictated to a ghostwriter over Zoom. Just… Jack. A man who, by all accounts, was minding his own business until fate, flash photography, and the internet combined to anoint him this week’s celebrity overlord.

And do you know what? Fair play to him. He’s a smashing lad by all appearances, and I can’t help but root for him. In fact, I’m practically booking my front-row seat for his inevitable debut on Celebrity Big Brother or I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here! Picture it now: Jack in the jungle, wearing a head torch, looking mildly confused while chewing kangaroo testicles for the nation’s amusement. It’s practically destiny.

Of course, his overnight success has sent a few noses wildly out of joint in the fame industry. Imagine clawing your way up the greasy celebrity pole — posting your best pout, cultivating “scandals,” leaking your own “leaked” texts — only to have Jack Kay swoop in with one photo and walk off with the nation’s attention like it’s a free canapé at a launch party. Delicious.

It’s not just the wannabe-set bristling either; the whole saga has become a sort of cultural Rorschach test. Some see Jack as proof of the absurdity of fame in the age of the algorithm. Others see him as the internet’s latest crush. I see a man who’s managed to play the game without even reading the rulebook.

Because let’s be honest, the rules have changed. Once, you needed a record deal, a primetime slot, or a scandal big enough to get a mention in the News of the World (RIP). Now? You just need a single moment that makes the internet collectively say: Yes, this one. This is our new obsession. It could be a photograph. It could be a TikTok. It could be an ill-advised comment made in a kebab shop at 3am. And suddenly, you’re hot property.

Will Jack’s reign as Ibiza’s final boss last? Who knows. The internet’s love affairs are fickle. One minute you’re the meme of the moment, the next you’re that guy people vaguely remember seeing “on something once.” But for now, Jack’s milking his fifteen minutes with style, and I, for one, am here for it. If he has done a deal with the devil, I hope it came with a decent rider — champagne, sunglasses, and maybe a small island.

Hurray — Wednesday is back on Netflix! And if that wasn’t already a big enough treat for fans of the macabre, there’s an extra twist in the cobweb this season: the legendary Joanna Lumley has joined the cast as Wednesday’s formidable grandmother.

Yes, you read that right. From Absolutely Fabulous to The Wolf of Wall Street, Lumley has always brought her own brand of razor-sharp wit and undeniable glamour to every role. Now, she’s stepping into the delightfully creepy world of the Addams family, and honestly, it feels like a match made in gothic heaven.

Contact Steven on spman@btinternet.com

Categories
Columns Culture People Poetry

Dear Oscar 2Shades thinks you are the next big thing .

Oscar William Clarke one to look out for

Hi Oscar,
We at 2Shades think you are art. We love your openness about living with addiction, and we would love to know more.

Thank you so much—that’s a wonderful thing to say. And thank you for having me. It was lovely meeting you at the Routine exhibition recently.

I’m Oscar, an artist based in London. I make a lot of different things, but mostly graphic illustrations that revolve around fashion, comic books, or BDSM. I’m a recovering alcoholic and addict. I’ve been sober for a while now, and I’ve been working on both my creative career and rebuilding my life—I’m even back at university. I love bold colours, especially red (my absolute favourite), which features heavily in my work. But sometimes, just simple black-and-white linework can be really rewarding too. You’ll usually find me watching horror movies, rocking out to the Sugababes, drawing some femme fatale in a fabulous outfit—or playing video games, of course.

I’ve been drawing for as long as I can remember. It’s been a way for me to express so much—my sexuality, my adoration of femininity, my experience as a queer person, or just the thrill of an incredible superhero fight scene. Now I’ve had the chance to exhibit and work as an illustrator, which has been amazing. I’m only getting better, so I’m excited to see what the future holds.


What does it feel like to create, for you?

For me, creating is perfect concentration and calm. My head is usually full of thoughts—non-stop—except when I’m drawing or designing. That’s when everything quiets down. I get totally absorbed in the world of the piece, in the details of the colours—or I just disappear into the flow of (deafening) music and let the pen take me somewhere new.

I’ve grown a lot as an artist since getting sober. I had to figure out how to be creative again, because my addiction robbed me of that desire—and the ability. I worried it wouldn’t come back. Part of me thought art was lost to me, or at least the passion for it was.

Thankfully, it came back—but it feels different now. These days, I create with less intention and let my emotions and the pen guide me. Trusting my skills is a big part of that. I’m the best I’ve ever been, and there’s a sense of security in that, because it allows me to just let go. That freedom is why creativity is such a safe space for me.

When you’re an addict, so much of your life is micromanaged. I avoid certain places when I’m too tired or upset because the pull of alcohol or drugs can be dangerous when I’m not stable. I have to constantly protect myself in a world where addiction is everywhere. Being around alcohol and drugs is exhausting—so I make sure I recharge, or I crash.

Creation is free of all the mental admin I have to do every day around addiction. That’s why it’s such a solace. I get to be somewhere else, someone else—feeling, seeing, and doing something else. It’s incredibly freeing.


Can you remember the earliest thing you created artistically?

Absolutely. I’ve always loved comic books and still collect them—I’ve got hundreds in my room. They were my gateway into art. I used to print out images of my favourite characters at primary school and try to redraw them as best I could.

Around that time, I also became obsessed with the brides of Dracula—after seeing Van Helsing with Kate Beckinsale. Those brides were everything to a young gay boy from South London. Flowing sleeves that turned into wings? Iconic.

I also drew Storm, Elektra, Catwoman, and Raven from Teen Titans because I grew up watching all those shows, not even realising there were decades of comics about these amazing women I could be reading. I started copying comic pages and poses from books I bought or found online. Comic artists are incredibly underrated—the technical and artistic skill needed is mind-blowing.

Redrawing other artists’ work was how I learned. It’s a great skill to develop early on. Even now, I love watching artists create on YouTube. That’s how I pick up new techniques—watching how someone shades or sketches anatomy, then figuring out how I’d do it. I tell every new artist I meet: understand the process. See how other people use the medium. It’ll change your practice.


What correlation does addiction and art have for you?

Addiction seeps into parts of who I am and, by extension, my art. My obsessive focus on one subject or style until I burn out feels very much like addiction. My love of recurring colours or patterns feels repetitive—like addiction did.

But, honestly, addiction was the opposite of being an artist for me. Toward the end of my using, I just stopped creating. There was nothing left inside to work with—no soul to put into art. Addiction stole that from me. Even though it was my own doing, it still feels like a theft.

That whole “depressed addict artist” stereotype? It wasn’t me. There was no creating going on. I don’t know how people stay functional in addiction. I couldn’t. Everything outside of using and, occasionally, working just faded away.

That said, art can be just as self-indulgent as addiction—just without the destruction. And it can pay! Which is the opposite of addiction, where I only ever lost money. So in that way, it’s gratifying.


Do you have any stand-out influences in your creative journey?

Yes!
René Gruau is my favourite fashion illustrator. The first time I saw his work, I was blown away by his minimalism—but also by the drama and flair. His use of red (swoon) and sheer elegance… phenomenal.

Simone Bianchi is a comic book artist I’ve loved for over a decade. He paints many of his pieces, which makes them feel unique—especially in comics. His grasp of anatomy and colour is chef’s kiss. He drew Storm better than anyone at Marvel. Big hair, boots, cape—flawless.

Tim Sale is another one. Famous for Batman: The Long Halloween and one of my favourites, Catwoman: When in Rome. His work feels like a fashion illustrator started doing comics. Perfect intersection of the things I love. He passed recently, which devastated me. The industry lost a legend.

Music is also a huge influence. I have a very visual connection to it—like a movie trailer in my head. I never draw without music. It’s the emotional gateway to my creative brain. I often play the same song on repeat for hours when I’m trying to stay in a feeling.

Nowadays, my inspiration is more internal. I rarely use references unless I’m doing commissioned work. But I still like life drawing sometimes—to keep my skills sharp.


How did you control the battle with addiction?

I wouldn’t call it “control,” because there’s not much you can control. For me, it all comes down to one non-negotiable truth: Sobriety or death. If I use again, I know I’ll die. That’s not melodramatic—it’s just the reality. So there is no choice. I’ve worked too hard to rebuild my life and relationships. I’m not throwing that away.

I take my peace seriously. Work is work, but my life means more. If I don’t want to go out, I don’t. If I need a day to myself, I take it. I fought for my happiness. I’m not sacrificing it for anyone.

AA helped me massively—especially early on. Those people saved my life. But as it’s anonymous and not about promotion, I’ll leave it at that.


Do you remember your darkest moment dealing with addiction?

Yes. Any time I tried to end my life. It happened a few times during my addiction. Thankfully, I wasn’t successful—but I remember that feeling of walking around not wanting to be here. I truly believed the world would be better off without me.

That feeling consumed me for years. The only relief came through explosive, manic episodes that never ended well. I felt hollow, like I had nothing left to offer.

These days, I still have hard moments—days or even weeks of depression—but now I know it’s not forever. That helps. Therapy helps too. Lots of it.


What’s next in your journey?

I just graduated with a first in Graphic Design! So right now, I’m job hunting and creating more art. I’ve been lucky to exhibit a few times and would love to do more of that. I’ve also got some creative projects in the works I can’t talk about yet—but I want to do everything. I didn’t think I’d live past 21, so the fact that I have time now? That feels powerful.

I’d love to put my work on clothing. That would be amazing. But for now, it’s more art, more exhibitions—and staying open to new projects. Commission work has always surprised me in the best ways.


Do you feel people are quick to judge you?

Probably. But it doesn’t bother me.

I’m gay. I live in a world where my community is still criminalised in many countries. Judgment comes with the territory. I have a small circle of people whose opinions matter. Everyone else? Irrelevant.

I love heels, claws, and makeup sometimes. Any queer person will tell you: being visibly queer means being hyper-aware of how you’re perceived. But I’m not hiding any part of myself to appease someone else’s discomfort. That’s a terrible deal.

I’m also quite introverted now. I enjoy my own company. And if someone doesn’t like me? Not my problem. I’m not for everyone—and I don’t want to be. That sounds exhausting.

I’m not unkind. I’ll apologise if I’m wrong. I work hard in therapy so my issues don’t hurt my people. But I also stand by myself. If I’m not sorry, I don’t say it. There’s great power in saying, “I’m not sorry.”

And hey—I draw men being sexually tied up. I expect judgment. But art is made to be disliked as much as it is to be loved. If someone hates my work, great. That’s their job as the audience: to respond. Love or hate—it means it made them feel something. That’s all that matters.


Quick Fire
Sushi or Chinese – Neither
Kiss or Slap – Both
Bowie or Madonna – Madonna
Favourite Place in London – My house
First thing you’d change as mayor for a day – Free dental / Legal protections for trans people that can’t be undone by a moron

https://aa-london.com

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Columns Culture Health and Fitness Travel

Top summer tip .

The health drink that makes you look and feel great Coconut Juice 

 The drink of choice for celebrities , and health enthusiasts  world over. 

10 Reasons Why Coconut Water is Good For You

  1. It has absolutely no cholesterol – this is in addition to being a low-calorie drink.
  2. Coconut water is identical to blood plasma. In World War II and even today in very rare cases in countries, coconut water has saved lives by being used as an intravenous hydration fluid instead of the standard IV fluid.
  3. Despite being naturally sweet, it is extremely low in sugars.
  4. It is low in sodium compared to energy drinks and high in chloride compared to sports drinks.
  5. Regulates and controls the body’s temperature and boosts the immune system.
  6. It boosts your metabolism, which is an important step in a person’s weight loss process.
  7. It is a natural isotonic beverage i.e. is the perfect drink to rehydrate your body and replenish lost electrolytes.
  8. It cleanses and settles the digestive tract by actively killing intestinal worms that makes for easier digestion and less chances of digetsive illnesses.
  9. Coconut water controls vomiting making it extremely important for those suffering from ailments that cause vomiting like typhoid, malaria or fevers.
  10. In case you haven’t noticed a distinct connection between the last few benefits –coconut water is an excellent drink for hangovers
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Culture Uncategorized

Malachi and the Lost Gold of Saussignac

A Magical Adventure by Stevie Smith 

Part One: The Boy in the Garden

Once upon a time, in the heart of a mystical French village called Saussignac, lived a magical little boy named Malachi. He had recently moved into a grand, enchanted house nestled among endless vineyards, and from the moment he arrived, he knew it was no ordinary place.

Malachi loved his new home. It was full of secrets, with winding corridors and hidden rooms yet to be discovered. He spent his days with his loyal friends: Frankie, the bouncy dog; Bob, the wise old retriever; Charlie, the unimpressed three-legged cat; and his cheeky imaginary companion, Popo le Tech, who was always up to mischief.

The garden outside was wild and overgrown, with brambles and weeds as tall as trees. Though far too messy for playing, it was filled with mystery. Beyond it stretched miles of golden vineyards, rustling in the summer breeze.

One sunny afternoon, as Malachi gazed out of his bedroom window, he spotted something peculiar—a boy in their garden! He was digging furiously, as though searching for something hidden deep underground.

“Look! What is that boy doing in our garden?” Malachi cried.

Bob lifted his head, let out an excited little fart, and barked at Frankie, “Let’s go see!” The two dogs bounded downstairs like furry cannonballs.

Charlie, curled on the windowsill, stretched lazily. “Dogs,” he muttered. “So dramatic.”

Malachi dashed downstairs, accidentally knocking into Grandma Nanson, who was mid-yoga pose.

“Take your shoes off before you come back in!” she huffed from her Downward Dog pose.

Popo le Tech bounced over her with a giggle. “Keep your hair on, Gran!” he called, pulling a silly face that made everyone laugh—except Charlie, who just rolled his eyes.

Outside, the boy in ragged clothes continued to dig.

“That’s our garden!” Malachi shouted.

The boy spun around, startled. He was pale and thin, his eyes hollow.

“Please,” he said softly. “Help me.”

Bob gently licked the boy’s hand, then turned to fetch Grandma—but the boy raised his hand. “No,” he whispered. “Only you can see me.”

Malachi’s eyes widened. “Who are you?”

“My name is Paul,” the boy said. “I lived here, many years ago. My family was happy… until the pirates came.”

“Pirates?” Malachi gasped.

“Yes. They came one night—led by the evillest pirate of all, Captain Steven, and his cruel second-in-command, Smithers. They stole everything. Even the birthday cake my mum baked for my gran’s seventy-eighth!”

“They locked up the grown-ups and kidnapped the children, forcing us to work on their dreadful ship.”

Malachi’s mouth dropped open.

“Only Grandma escaped,” Paul added with a grin. “She talked so much they dropped her off ten villages away to get some peace!”

Frankie barked with amusement.

“My best friend, Le Tech, and I snuck into their supply cart and found a chest of gold—more treasure than you can imagine. We buried it right here, in this garden. One day, we hoped to return and throw a feast for the whole village.”

“But… you didn’t come back?” Malachi asked.

“We were caught,” Paul said grimly. “Le Tech was made to walk the plank. I was spared, but I spent years as their prisoner.”

Now Paul looked desperate. “Captain Steven is coming back—with a new crew of horrors, including One-Eyed John, who’s rumoured to eat pets! We must find the gold before they do. But no grown-ups can know. And definitely not the cat.”

Charlie sniffed indignantly. “Charming.”

“If the treasure is returned to the villagers,” Paul continued, “a magical fairy will appear to drive the pirates away—and reunite the families they took.”

Malachi glanced at the kitchen window. Grandma Nanson was now wearing a green face mask and fussing about sand on the floor.

He looked back at Paul—and then at his brave companions. They all nodded.

“Alright,” Malachi said. “We’ll find the gold and save the village.”

Popo le Tech did a backflip and whooped, “Adventure time!”

And so, under the Saussignac sun, a magical boy, two loyal dogs, a reluctant cat, a mischievous imaginary friend, and a boy from the past began their quest…

Part Two: The Pirate Gardeners

The next morning, Malachi awoke to golden sunlight streaming across his bedroom floor. He stretched and yawned. Outside, Popo le Tech was already playing with Bob and Frankie.

Paul was still fast asleep beside him.

“Wake up,” Malachi whispered. “It’s treasure time.”

Downstairs, Grandma was on the phone.

“I want you to meet someone,” she said, waving them over.

Standing behind her were two large men in muddy boots and overalls.

“These are the new gardeners,” Grandma explained.

The men turned. One wore a wide-brimmed hat and had eyes like ice.

“I’m Mr Steven,” he said. “Would you like to walk the—uh—plank? I mean, some sweets?”

“No thanks,” Malachi said quickly.

The second man stepped forward. “I’m John,” he grinned, licking his lips as he looked at the pets. “What delicious—I mean, what cuddly animals.”

The dogs growled. Even Charlie hissed.

“No children in the garden,” Mr Steven snapped. “We’re digging it all up.”

“Why?” Malachi asked.

“For your grandma’s birthday surprise,” John said. “Is she turning seventy-six by any chance?”

“I’m thirty-nine!” Grandma snapped. “Honestly!”

Later, when the “gardeners” weren’t looking, Paul pulled Malachi aside.

“It’s them,” he whispered. “The pirates. They’re back.”

“We have to find the treasure before they do,” said Malachi. “And protect the fairy.”

“The gold is under this house,” said Le Tech, appearing beside them. “The pirates must’ve found one of the old maps.”

“But how do we reach it?” Paul asked.

“We’ll need a map of the house,” said Malachi. “And we must find a way underneath.”

The children and pets slipped out the back door unnoticed. The race had begun.

Meanwhile, behind the hedge, Mr Steven scowled.

“That boy knows something.”

“We should tie up the gran and torture her with a curling iron,” John hissed. “Make Malachi walk the plank!”

“And the pets?”

“Eat them!” John cackled.

“Not yet,” Steven growled. “First we get the gold.”

Part Three: The Fairy Awakens

“Oh no,” said Gran, wearing a green beauty mask to look extra pretty for her birthday. “The garden’s not looking very good.”

She leaned out of the window and called to the gardeners, “I don’t think this is right! Can you come in to discuss it?”

John looked shocked as he stared with his one good eye.

“It’s a hideous sea witch!” he screamed.

“Just act natural,” said Captain Steve, giving a wink. “It’s only that overly chatty Gran.”

As they came inside, Gran—being kind—offered them some water but insisted they take off their shoes.

This was a big mistake.

Not only did their feet stink, but their socks were full of holes—and worms crawled out of their boots onto the clean floor.

Gran screamed. “My lovely floors!”

Then she noticed something even worse. The floorboards near the kitchen sink were starting to lift.

She couldn’t believe it. “What on earth is going on?”

“Get her!” barked Captain Steve. “Tie her to the chair and gag her to shut her up. We’ll send her miles away where no one can hear her complaining. Or feed her to the sharks!”

John was only too happy to oblige. Gran put up a good fight and managed to cover him in green slime, but he tied her to a white chair in the living room, took off his stinky sock, and shoved it in Gran’s mouth.

Part Four: The Midnight Dig

That night, all was still.

Suddenly, sparkles of light danced across Malachi’s bedroom. Bob farted with surprise and nudged Frankie awake.

Malachi opened his eyes. “Look!”

A beautiful fairy floated before them. “I am Mirabella,” she said. “You’ve done well, brave Malachi. The treasure lies under the kitchen wall. Dig, and my spirit will be released—and the villagers will be free.”

“I’m too small to dig,” Malachi whispered.

“We’ll help,” said Charlie with a sigh. “No one ever lets a cat rest!”

Mirabella sprinkled fairy dust over them all. They hurried to the garden, guided by her light.

Part Five: Victory

Captain Steven was furious. “We’ll make Malachi scrub the decks forever! Let’s find that gold!”

Suddenly, the floorboards burst open with a blast of golden light.

Out came Malachi, Bob, Frankie, Charlie—and the glowing treasure chest.

“It’s okay, Gran,” Malachi said, untying her. “We’ve found the gold. And those aren’t gardeners—they’re pirates!”

The pirates screamed and began evaporating into thin air.

“I’ll be back!” Captain Steven howled.

The garden filled with glowing spirits—the villagers the pirates had once taken. They smiled at Malachi.

“Thank you,” said Paul and Le Tech. “We can rest now.”

Mirabella hovered above them. “Call my name three times if ever you need me.”

And with that, she vanished into the stars.

Epilogue

Later that day, Malachi’s mums returned.

“Terrible gardeners,” one muttered. “They’ve wrecked the garden.”

“Mum, we met pirates! And a fairy! And I found gold!”

“What an imagination,” they laughed.

That night, as Malachi drifted off to sleep, he looked under his pillow.

There were twelve gold coins.

Outside, thunder rumbled.

A voice echoed on the wind:

“I WILL BE BACK! YOU WILL WALK THE PLANK!”


The End.

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Columns Culture Health and Fitness People

Lewis Capaldi “There are tears for a star of The People”

Steven Smith sheds a tear at Glastonbury .

Lewis Capaldi at Glastonbury


Lewis Capaldi at Glastonbury

It’s hard to believe it’s a beautiful sunny day. I’m standing in a field surrounded by almost ten thousand people, with one of my best friends beside me It should be a moment of sheer joy. And yet, I’m crying.

Why? Because Lewis Capaldi is performing.

More than just singing, he is baring his soul. And somehow, it feels as though he’s opening it just for me. There’s a rawness in his voice and vulnerability in his presence that goes beyond a typical performance. As a man, I felt an instant, emotional connection to his struggle, his humour, and his humanity.

Capaldi’s return to the stage feels like one of the landmark performances of this century. Not simply because “he’s back,” as he says but because he has redefined what it means to be a male performer in the modern age. There was a time when baring your soul in music was reserved for iconic women—Judy Garland, Liza Minnelli, Nina Simone—divas who transformed pain into power and emotion into art. But Capaldi proves that a man can do the same. His voice isn’t just strong; it’s expressive, vulnerable, and unashamedly real.

There’s a reason we relate to artists like these so deeply: they tell our stories. And when we see them, we feel seen. Capaldi doesn’t posture or hide behind image or ego. He stumbles, jokes, apologises, laughs at himself—and keeps going. In a world often obsessed with perfection, his imperfections are his greatest strength.

Capaldi may not see himself this way, but he is one of the great performers of our time. Not only because of his incredible voice, but because of his natural wit, honesty, and charm. Who could forget his now-famous moment on The Graham Norton Show, when he hilariously recounted watching Fifty Shades of Grey star Jamie Dornan wield a whip, joking that he was holding one part of his anatomy while Dornan had the other? It’s outrageous, but entirely Capaldi—bold, cheeky, and completely unfiltered.

But behind the banter lies something even more powerful. His recent public struggles with mental health and Tourette’s have made him not just relatable but important. His openness has created space for men to talk about vulnerability without shame. Watching him on stage—pausing mid-song, taking deep breaths, letting the audience carry him when needed—is nothing short of brave.

I’ve attended many performances in my life, from pop concerts to opera at the Royal Opera House, where I once saw a devastatingly beautiful Tosca. I cried But nothing prepared me for the emotional impact of Capaldi live—it was so unexpected. He may not wear a tuxedo or stand beneath a chandelier, but make no mistake—this was high art. And perhaps more importantly, it was deeply human.

There’s a rare intimacy between Capaldi and his audience. At times, the concert felt more like a conversation than a show. People sang not just with him, but for him, filling in lyrics when his voice cracked or faltered. It wasn’t just support—it was love. Genuine, messy, joyous love.

In a world full of polished pop stars, here is someone who dares to be completely himself. He reminds us that music isn’t always about escapism; sometimes, it’s about facing pain head-on and finding beauty in the cracks. His songs speak to heartbreak, loneliness, and the strange, funny bits of life that connect us all.

So yes, on this perfect sunny day, in the middle of a field with thousands of others and one of my dearest friends, I cried. Not because I was sad, but because I felt something real—raw, universal, and unforgettable.

Lewis Capaldi, whether he realises it or not, has become a star of the people. And as tears rolled down my face, I felt honoured to witness it.

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Columns Culture Lifestyle Poetry

The Pied Piper of Rock: Matty Healy Leads The 1975 Into Glastonbury History

Matt Healy the 1975 Glastonbury

When you tune in to watch The 1975 perform live, you’re not just listening to a concert—you’re boarding an electrifying emotional rollercoaster. From the first beat to the final bow, Matty Healy doesn’t just sing; he commands, provokes, and enchants. At Glastonbury, he led his band into the annals of festival history with a performance that was nothing short of spellbinding—part protest, part performance art, and all heart.

There’s no doubt that watching The 1975 live is like being caught in a storm of sound and sentiment. Healy, a vocal advocate for mental health awareness, brings his audience on a journey that often feels bipolar in nature—veering from euphoric highs to moments of raw, painful vulnerability. One moment, you’re leaping in unison with thousands, lost in the pulse of a synth-heavy anthem; the next, you’re hushed and still, listening as he declares, “I’m bleeding for you.” Behind him, haunting visuals flash—images of human suffering, environmental destruction, animal cruelty—reminding the audience that this isn’t just music, it’s a call to consciousness.

“It’s not about politics anymore,” Healy said mid-set. “It’s about love. It’s about being kind. Only with that will we ever make a real difference.” It’s these moments of candour that transform his concerts from simple entertainment into deeply moving communal experiences. In an industry where many shy away from difficult truths, Healy walks straight into them, arms wide open.

His onstage persona oscillates between bravado and vulnerability. “I’m the greatest poet,” he quips with a grin—only to retract with a shrug in the next breath, “No, I’m an idiot.” The line between jest and confession blurs. It’s this constant tension—between confidence and self-doubt, performance and honesty—that makes him so captivating. Matty Healy was born for the stage, but it’s his disbelief in his own myth that makes the myth so powerful.

Critics often compare him to rock legends—Jagger, Iggy Pop, maybe even Bowie—but the truth is, Healy defies easy classification. He’s original, carving out a space that feels entirely his own. Perhaps the closest parallel is Marc Bolan, who stunned a generation with “Ride a White Swan,” opening the doors for glam rock and gender fluid performance styles. Bolan didn’t just sing songs—he shaped culture. Healy is doing the same, one provocative, glittering, gut-punch of a show at a time.

Musically, The 1975 occupy a unique space in modern rock. Their sound is a kaleidoscope—one moment polished pop, the next raw post-punk, with forays into jazz, soul, and experimental electronica. Healy’s songwriting is equally diverse. At times playful and catchy, at others profound and searching, he writes like someone trying to make sense of the world in real time. His voice—distinctly androgynous—is now fully formed. It’s a sound that feels both masculine and feminine, emotionally expressive without relying on the grit or aggression often associated with male rock vocalists.

Unlike performers such as Eminem or Macklemore, who often lean on female vocalists to soften or elevate their songs, Healy’s voice stands entirely on its own. There’s no need for a counterbalance. His vocal tone is rich, resonant, and complete. If a perfectly dressed salad needed no extra dressing, then Healy’s voice is that seasoned dish—balanced, flavorful, and satisfying all on its own.

And while Matty Healy is the band’s lightning rod, The 1975 is far more than just one man. The musicianship within the group is extraordinary. Drummer George Daniel is a master of rhythm—an innovator whose work deserves to be ranked alongside legends like Keith Moon and Ginger Baker. His beats are not just background; they are the spine of every song. Then there’s saxophonist John Waugh, whose solos are so expressive and vital that it’s easy to imagine David Bowie himself swooping in to steal him for a side project. Guitarist Adam Hann is no less impressive, crafting intricate textures and soaring riffs that elevate every performance.

1975 Drummer George Danielles a drummer for the hall of fame .

Together, they’re a cohesive force, a band in the truest sense. At Glastonbury, they played not like hired hands or background musicians, but like brothers—a family bound by the music they make. It was Healy, of course, who brought them all together, and it is his vision that they continue to follow. But it’s the synergy of all four that gives the band its power.

The 1975

The Glastonbury crowd, thousands strong, didn’t just watch—they listened. When Healy pleaded with them to “be kind” and to “make a difference,” they responded not with cheers but with thoughtful silence, a stillness that only true impact can elicit. Few performers have that kind of power. It’s the rare ability to hush a festival crowd, not with volume but with vulnerability.

And already, there are imitators—artists scrambling to mimic his stage presence, his fashion, his lyrical style. We won’t name names—let’s be kind, as Healy would urge—but the influence is undeniable. The 1975 are not just leading; they’re redefining the genre.

As the final chords rang out into the Glastonbury night, one thing became clear: this was a moment that would be remembered. The band could have easily played for another hour, and no one would have left. But sometimes, leaving them wanting more is the mark of a true master. And Matty Healy, for all his self-doubt and sarcasm, is exactly that—a master performer, a cultural touchstone, and yes, perhaps the Pied Piper of modern rock.

The world will keep watching. The arenas will fill. And The 1975 will continue to evolve, to provoke, and to inspire. Glastonbury may be behind them, but their story is far from over.

END

Why The 1975 and Matty Healy Support LGBTQ+ Rights and Fund Them

In an era where performative allyship is all too common in pop culture, The 1975 have carved out a reputation for genuine advocacy—particularly when it comes to LGBTQ+ rights. Fronted by the passionate and outspoken Matty Healy, the Manchester-based band not only vocalizes support but backs it with real action and funding.

Healy and his bandmates—George Daniels, Adam Hann, and Ross MacDonald—aren’t just a group with a large LGBTQ+ following; they’ve actively embraced and empowered the community. Their hit “Loving Someone” has become something of a modern gay anthem, resonating deeply with queer fans for its themes of identity, love, and resistance to conformity.

But their commitment goes well beyond lyrics. In a tangible display of support, The 1975 donated £16,000 to help create an LGBTQ+ centre in London—a meaningful contribution aimed at fostering safe spaces and community resources. As Healy himself said, “You might wonder why this is needed and ask what exactly everyone is still scared of, but sadly stigma still exists.” It’s clear he understands the ongoing challenges faced by LGBTQ+ individuals and refuses to remain silent.

Healy’s activism isn’t just about charity—it’s also about calling out injustices. At the BRIT Awards, he used his platform to highlight misogyny in the music industry, quoting journalist Laura Snapes to critique the double standards applied to male and female artists. This kind of intersectional awareness is why his advocacy rings true.

Part of Healy’s inclusive worldview stems from his upbringing. With a gay icon for a mother—actress Denise Welch—and a father known for playing drag characters on TV, he grew up immersed in queer culture. Labels never mattered in his household, and that open-mindedness clearly carries into both his personal life and public platform.

What truly sets The 1975 apart, though, is how authentic and accessible they remain despite global fame. Backstage at a packed O2 concert, Healy was more concerned about making sure a guest had a drink than what he was going to wear on stage. That sincerity, that desire to connect rather than dominate, defines their relationship with fans—especially LGBTQ+ fans who have long searched for artists that don’t just exploit queer culture but stand alongside it.

In short, The 1975 aren’t just the band everyone’s talking about because of their catchy songs or chart success. They matter because they’re using their platform with genuine purpose—offering representation, safe spaces, and support for those who need it most.

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Columns Culture Lifestyle People

The Passive Aggressive’s

By Steven Smith Stevens Viewz

Ah… the Passive Aggressives. We’ve all met them. They open their mouths and what comes out sounds like a compliment—but it’s actually a veiled put-down. Before you can respond, they’ve already moved on to a new subject. Like silent assassins, they strike, then dare you to recover from the blow.

If you say, “Hey, would you like that said to you?”, they recoil in horror and reply, “Why are you so sensitive, darling? It was a compliment,” shaking their heads like they’re the victim of #PassiveAggression.

From:
“I do admire how you keep going when others would have thrown in the towel ages ago—so brave,”
to:
“You know that outfit suits you—don’t let others put you off, whatever they say.”

Favourite?

My personal favourite came from a friend who’d actually introduced me to my now-best male pal. She told me:
“So glad it’s going well with you two… you shouldn’t care what others are saying about you both.”

Let’s not forget the classic:
“You can’t tell anyone I told you this, but so-and-so said XYZ about you.”
My reply? Always: “Why were they so comfortable telling you?”

Now, much passive aggression comes from strangers, but the deepest cuts usually come from people we love, see regularly—or worse—family members.

Madeleine, a dear friend of mine, simply can’t help herself.

We All Know a Few Wicked Queens

The trouble is, I love her, and I tend to overlook her barbed remarks. Picture this: dinner with a group of friends as she regales the table with a story—
“Oh darling, we were sitting up in premium class while Steven was way back in economy, squashed between two people.”

Everyone chuckles and looks at me sympathetically. In reality, she was also in economy. A bit further from me, yes—but the same class. Why make me the fall guy in her tale?

I don’t correct her. Honestly, I’m speechless. And who wants to play #PassiveAggressiveTennis? I know she loves me—really.

Spelling Lessons

Another agent friend, Antonia, has a wicked sense of humour, and her loyalty redeems a lot. I was so looking forward to lunch with her. She’d just returned from New York, promoting her girlfriend’s record, and we planned to pop into a gallery event where one of her friends was exhibiting.

But it didn’t take long for the first blow:
“Darling Donna [her girlfriend] and I were just saying—you forget what a great writer you are—pause—as you’re just such an appalling speller.”
Then, after another pause:
“Does someone help you?” she asked, casually munching a root vegetable like we were discussing the weather.

It’s true—I’m dyslexic. Spelling is not my strong suit. But after over 20 years writing for publications around the world, and two published books, I’ve earned my place. If it weren’t for journalist and presenter Jane Moore encouraging me—
“You have the voice. The rest will come—just do it.”

With technology, hard work, and mentors like Jane, I carved out a writing career. These days, people actually rate my work—and that means a lot. So I just smile and explain that yes, I have editors and tech, and the tools are better now.

Before I finish, the topic shifts—to Donna hitting the charts in the U.S.

Still Not Done

Later, at the packed gallery event, Madeleine introduces me to a group of people:
“Everyone, this is Steven. He’s a great writer—but can’t spell.”

They look bemused. Madeleine has struck—and vanished—leaving me standing there hoping no one starts a crowdfund for my spelling lessons.

Arlena & Real Life

Life isn’t like the movies when the passive-aggressive gang comes for you. Most of us feel like rabbits in headlights—unlike the deliciously sharp Dames Diana Rigg and Maggie Smith in Evil Under the Sun.

Maggie, as Daphne Castle, greets Diana Rigg’s character Arlena Marshall:
“Arlena and I were in the chorus of a show together—not that I could compete. Even in those days, she could always throw her legs in the air higher than any of us—and wider!”

Arlena retorts,
“Kenneth, what a surprise. When you told me the island was run by a quaint little landlady, I had no idea it was Daphne Castle.”

There’s a fine line between bitchy and passive-aggressive.

Mother-in-Law Moments

A friend’s mother-in-law, taken backstage after a show, hugged the leading man and gushed about how amazing he was. The leading lady popped in to say hello. She turned to her and said,
“I thought you were great… don’t listen to those reviews.”

Silence. The actress smiled, made her excuses, and left. When we later pointed out it was a line from The Feud (Joan Crawford vs. Bette Davis), the poor woman was mortified—she hadn’t meant it to cut. In hindsight? Hysterically funny.

The day before, she’d overheard me chatting to a famous pop star:
“Who was that?” she asked.
I should’ve said, “Mind your own business,” like my mum would. But I answered. Her reply?
“Why would they want to talk to you?”

Gobsmacked. And somehow, older people get away with more. She really is lovely, though.

LGBTQ and the Passive Blow

As a member of the LGBTQ+ community, we often face passive aggression. It’s exhausting.

At a wedding in Guernsey, where the bride was 20 years older than the groom (so you’d think a liberal crowd, right?), a woman rushed up:
“Oh, you two must be Mandy’s gay friends from London!”

She beamed like she expected us to burst into I Am What I Am. I tried some small talk. She wasn’t done:
“David is gay—from EastEnders!”
I replied, “Really? Amazing. I’ll look him up in the book.”
Her eyes widened, “There’s a book?”
“Yes, we’re all registered. I’ll bring you a copy next time I visit Mandy.”

Okay, that may have been me being passive-aggressive.

From:
“I don’t mind the gays. My hairdresser’s one.”
to:
“I’m all for it—but don’t you mind not being able to have children?”
We’ve all heard those.

Let’s not get started on the “bitchy queen” lines:
“Don’t mind me, it’s all in jest. I’m just a bitch.”
You’re waiting for them to hand you the poisoned apple. “Go on, bite, dear.”

What the Experts Say

Experts say the best way to handle passive-aggressive people is not to react.

Self-help psychologist Dr Pam Spurr (@DrPamSpurr) says:

“People can be passive-aggressive for many reasons, but usually it’s because they have a manipulative streak.

If they want to put you down, the easiest way is with a backhanded compliment. It wrong-foots you and leaves you wondering what they really meant. That’s emotional manipulation.

She adds:

“Passive aggression often comes from resentment, envy, or jealousy—sometimes without them even realising it.

Some people, however, do know exactly what they’re doing. They enjoy the power of the subtle jab.”

Her advice?

  • Call it out calmly—especially if you see the person often.
  • If it’s someone you barely know—ignore it, put it in perspective.
  • Realise: it’s more about them than it is about you.

According to LearningMind.com, passive aggression also includes chronic lateness (to gain attention), controlling events, undermining others behind their backs, playing the victim, or pretending there’s no issue when there clearly is.

Psychology Today agrees:

  • Recognise the behaviour.
  • Stay calm.
  • Don’t take it personally.
  • Confront it if needed.

Blackmail and Backlash

These all sound simple on paper. But for people like me—who hate confrontation—even a kind challenge results in tears and emotional blackmail. I’ll do anything to stop someone crying.

Growing up, pointing out when someone was wrong led to a meltdown. Still today, if I gently mention something upsetting, I get:
“I can’t say anything right,”
soon followed by,
“I had a terrible childhood.”

Let’s be honest—in the UK, from the 60s to the 80s (and sometimes now), talking about feelings can feel like a deadly sin.

Teach Them Young

Signe Whitson, LSW, writing for Psychology Today, notes:

“Without directly addressing passive-aggressive behaviour, the pattern will play out again and again. For real change, benign confrontation is necessary.”

She argues being assertive isn’t something to fear.

I agree. Imagine if we taught kids that if someone they love says something hurtful, it’s okay to speak up and share how it made them feel.

As Dr Pam says,

“Sometimes they don’t even realise what they’re doing.”

END


Steven Smith
@asksteve2c
Psychology Today – Passive Aggressive Diaries
@DrPamSpurr
Dr Pam’s show + podcast series

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“Stop the world—I need to get off!”

Steven’s Viewz

“Stop the world—I need to get off!”

I hear many of you saying that in these bizarre and often crazy times. You could be forgiven for wondering if the great God (if you believe in such an entity) might reach down and reply, “Sure! Will you be paying for that in crypto, Bitcoin, or the old-fashioned pound?”
He may even offer you one of His NFT-signed art posters, promising that once you re-join Earth, it will have quadrupled in value—guaranteeing your return comes with a bang and, most certainly, millionaire status… well, in crypto land, at least. Just as Alice drops through a hole in search of it all.

Let’s give some extra love for Tracey Emin’s  Digital Editions.

Well, I found myself asking what an NFT is last year. I keep hearing it mentioned at events and parties. A friend visiting LA called and said,
“Darling, you’re no one here if you’re not into NFTs or crypto.”
Cue the sinking feeling—like when someone tries to sell me a multi-level marketing scheme.
“People felt the same about stamps when they started,” she added.

Fair point. Our great-grans kept money under the mattress after losing trust in banks during the Great Depression of 1929. And let’s not even get started on Lehman Brothers filing for bankruptcy in 2008, leaving people penniless and robbed of their life savings.

NFT (Non-Fungible Token) is a record on a blockchain associated with a particular digital or physical asset. Ownership is recorded and transferable via the blockchain, making NFTs something that can be sold or traded.

So what is an NFT in relation to art? An NFT is a digital asset that exists purely in the digital world—you can’t touch it, but you can own it. It can take the form of any digital file: an artwork, an article, music, or even a meme. For instance, Disaster Girl, the original photo, sold for $500K earlier this year.

Disaster Girl original photo sold as an NFT for $500k

But is it the emperor’s new clothes? For every artist who champions NFT art, there are others who won’t touch this new way of trading. Boy George has opened his own digital platform: www.cryptoqueenznft.com. Though he hasn’t sold through auction houses like Sotheby’s or Christie’s, his work has fetched significant sums at charity events—and he certainly has talent. Tracey Emin has also joined the NFT art scene alongside several well-known artists. But many remain firmly against it.

In Business of Business, a piece titled Artists Against NFT quoted Zilch, an Atlanta-based artist:
“Personally, I’m against NFTs. However, we have to acknowledge that the system exists. It still requires regulation—it’s not a free-for-all, unmoderated space where all hell breaks loose. Systems get made, systems get abused, then they get regulated.”

London saw its first NFT gallery, Quantus Gallery, open earlier this year. The star-studded launch featured Ant Middleton, makeup model Jodie Kidd, and the dashing Callum Best, mingling with socialites, City boys, and what looked like would-be Kray brothers. It was a glamorous and eclectic crowd—and the buzz was undeniable.

Art is subjective, and let’s not forget where the term con artist comes from. A brilliant salesman can sell snow to an Eskimo. It’s the same with paintings. Remember ART, the award-winning play? Serge, indulging his taste for modern art, buys an expensive, completely white painting. Marc is horrified. Their friendship unravels over what constitutes “art,” while Yvan tries to play peacemaker. Art, ultimately, is what you decide it is.

Every wise boy seems to be dipping into crypto. I’m absolutely convinced that, like in multi-level marketing, some will make a mint—and others will get burnt. At one point, my inbox was flooded with “get rich with crypto or Bitcoin” invitations. I nearly joined one, as many top business names were involved. But during the meeting, it became clear they were investing in… well, something that wasn’t quite there.
“We’re hoping to get Adele and Tom Cruise involved,” they said. Apparently, people will pay thousands to sit at a computer in NFT sunglasses. I guess people have spent fortunes on dressing up avatars in virtual games for years. It certainly helped the Kardashians build their portfolio.

But when I asked what Adele’s or Tom Cruise’s agents thought of all this, the answers were vague. It was clearly a wish list. I followed my instinct and said: “No, thank you.” A year later, despite the impressive credentials of its founders, the venture has gone nowhere.

There’s definitely a strong element of the hard sell from NFT enthusiasts. Personally, I’d still take the advice of my financial advisors and avoid anything with a gambling edge—especially if you have an addictive personality or can’t afford to lose. Most serious investors in high-end art use qualified advisors and buy through reputable auction houses or galleries that mentor their artists. They often request first refusal if the work is resold.

NFT art is certainly something to watch. If you have disposable income, then by all means—fill your boots. But in a volatile market, with crypto prices constantly swinging, it’s not something that helps me sleep at night.

I asked a woman who’s doing an incredible job promoting NFTs how she was paid. As she knocked back a glass of champagne, she replied:
“God, money, darling!”
That said it all to me.

Added Note: Buying Art as an Investment

Added Note: Buying Art as an Investment

When buying art as an investment, choose wisely. While some artists are natural-born salespeople—able to “sell snow to Eskimos,” as the saying goes—it’s important to remember that enthusiasm and charm are not guarantees of long-term value.

Be cautious when you hear the phrase “It sold at auction.” This often refers to a charity auction or fundraising dinner—not a prestigious sale at Christie’s or Sotheby’s. There is a significant difference between these venues in terms of how the sale reflects on an artwork’s market value and provenance.

Reputable artists are usually represented by established and well-known galleries for a reason. These galleries not only help manage the artist’s career but also serve to protect the integrity and long-term value of their work. Many of them will request first refusal if you ever decide to resell the artwork, helping maintain consistency and trust in the secondary market.

Serious collectors often work with art consultants or experts to guide their purchases—again, to protect the investment’s value. There are always exceptions in the art world, of course, but if you’re not properly informed or protected, and an artist has persuaded you their work is worth £50,000, don’t be surprised or disappointed if, when it comes time to resell, it turns out not to be worth the canvas it’s painted on.

Art should be enjoyed and loved, but if you’re buying with investment in mind, do your homework—and seek trusted advice.

END

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June’s Book Club with David Nailer

Hello darlings! It’s time for David’s Book Club Reviews, and I’m absolutely thrilled to be joining the fabulous folks at 2SHADES this month. What a dazzling array of reads we’ve had!

From a sSmelly kid who defies the odds to become a number-one porn star and entrepreneur (yes, really!) to a stylish serial killer stalking London’s high society and showbiz darlings—this month’s selection did not disappoint. And let’s not forget the gripping Bleeding Fabulous: The Life of a Haemosexual—a memoir bursting with sequins, survival, and serious heart.

There’s also a gorgeously dark gothic horror set in Victorian London that sent shivers down my spine and had me clutching my feather boa in suspense. Plus, 13 other twisty, chilling, and utterly addictive short stories in Criminal Pursuits 2—each one more devious than the last.

Yes, my loves, they all get five stars from me. Call me generous if you will, but I had an absolutely fabulous time reading every single one. Drama, danger, glamour, grit—and always a twist in the tail. What more could a queen ask for?

If you’re looking for thrills, spills, and a few cheeky chills, these are the books to curl up with (preferably with a cocktail in hand).

Until next time,
Love, David 💋

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Review of Criminal Pursuits 2: This Is Me – 14 Dark Gems of Crime Fiction
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Criminal Pursuits 2: This Is Me is a superbly curated anthology of fourteen dark, twisted, and utterly engrossing short stories from some of the sharpest minds in contemporary crime fiction. As with the first volume, this second instalment delivers diverse voices and inventive plots, drawing readers into a variety of shadowy worlds where justice is murky, morality bends, and the human psyche is pushed to the brink.

Each story offers a unique lens into the criminal mind—ranging from psychological thrillers to revenge tales, noir romance, dystopian pacts, and unnerving hauntings. From the man teetering on the edge of a high building, to the woman whose inheritance turns deadly, the anthology brims with tension, clever twists, and haunting imagery. There’s a satisfying blend of styles, from hard-boiled grit to eerie suspense, that keeps the pacing lively and the reader guessing.

But the undeniable standout is Killer Queen by Steven Smith.
Stylish, razor-sharp, and steeped in a deliciously dark sense of camp, Killer Queen turns the serial killer trope on its head. Smith’s flair for the dramatic meets a gritty crime plot as he introduces a killer with charisma, vengeance, and unrelenting flair. The story pulses with queer energy and glittering menace, without ever losing sight of its emotional core. It’s daring, provocative, and gloriously subversive—exactly the kind of story crime fiction needs more of.

This powerful collection includes a heartfelt foreword by Lisa Allen, CEO of Pink Ribbon, who reminds us of the real-life battles many face every day. Fittingly, all profits from this anthology go to the breast cancer charity Pink Ribbon, making this both a gripping read and a meaningful cause.

An absolute must-read—for your bookshelf and your heart.

Review of Smelly Kid by Andy Lee 

Smelly Kid by Andy Lee (with Dave Taylor) is a raw, unflinching memoir that grips you from the first page and never lets go. With a title that hints at both humour and hardship, the book plunges readers into the unforgiving world of a poverty-stricken Dublin childhood, where abandonment, hunger, and homelessness were part of daily survival.

By the age of twelve, Andy had already experienced more loss than many do in a lifetime—left without parents and living on the margins of society. What makes Smelly Kid so compelling, however, is not just the depth of suffering, but the incredible resilience that rises from it. Through heartbreak, Andy never loses his fighting spirit, and his story becomes one of transformation and hope.

Lee’s voice is honest, gritty, and disarmingly humorous. He recounts harrowing moments with clarity and purpose, but also with surprising warmth. Whether it’s finding brief refuge in the kindness of a stranger or navigating the chaotic streets of inner-city Dublin, his story resonates with a raw authenticity. His later journey into the adult entertainment industry is told with the same candid honesty, showing how unexpected paths can lead to reinvention and, ultimately, self-empowerment.

Smelly Kid is not your typical rags-to-riches tale. It’s more than a memoir—it’s a testament to human endurance and the possibility of hope in even the bleakest circumstances. Gritty, heartbreaking, and ultimately inspiring, this is a story that lingers long after the final page.

For anyone who believes that the past defines the future, Andy Lee proves otherwise. Smelly Kid deserves its glowing 4.8-star rating—it’s bold, unforgettable, and deeply moving.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Soul Thief by S.L. Howe – 

Samantha Lee Howe’s The Soul Thief is a deliciously dark slice of gothic horror that plunges readers into the chilling depths of Victorian Manchester. A haunting and atmospheric tale, this novel is perfect for fans of Sarah Waters, Carly Reagon, and anyone who enjoys eerie mysteries by candlelight.

Set in 1888, the story follows the weary Dr. Warren Carter as he navigates long, gruelling nightshifts at a hospital cloaked in shadows. When the enigmatic and beautiful young nurse Rosie vanishes without a trace after a late-night drink, the unsettling tone is set. More disappearances follow, and soon, a private investigator is drawn into a web of creeping dread and escalating horror.

Howe masterfully conjures a fog-soaked world where danger flickers just beyond the reach of gaslight. The novel’s strength lies in its brooding atmosphere, tight pacing, and an undercurrent of psychological unease. From the moment Dr. Carter’s carefully ordered world begins to unravel, readers are drawn into a nightmare that feels both timeless and intensely personal.

The writing is richly evocative, and the characters are sharply drawn—each with secrets that deepen the mystery. The blend of supernatural elements with the harsh realism of Victorian medicine creates a visceral contrast that heightens the suspense. The twists are deftly delivered and genuinely surprising, with the final chapters veering into thrilling, pulse-pounding territory.

With glowing praise from readers and reviewers alike, The Soul Thief delivers on every gothic promise: a crumbling setting, spectral threats, and a slow-burn horror that lingers. This is a novel to savour on stormy nights, ideally with a flickering candle and a cup of something strong.

Dark, twisty, and utterly absorbing, The Soul Thief is Victorian horror at its finest.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Review of Bleeding Fabulous by Mark Ward –

Bleeding Fabulous: The Life of a Haemosexual is a powerful and unapologetically bold memoir by Mark Ward—a man whose life defies the odds, the stigma, and the silence surrounding one of the darkest chapters in UK medical history. With extraordinary candour, wit, and resilience, Ward recounts his journey from an ordinary boy in Letchworth to becoming the world’s first LGBTQ+ Ambassador for Haemophilia.

Infected with blood-borne viruses through contaminated NHS blood products, Ward faced not one, but multiple death sentences. Yet, as he puts it, “Faced daily with my own mortality, I chose to live fabulously.” And live fabulously he does—feather boas and all—delivering a narrative that is as heartbreaking as it is uplifting.

Far more than a personal story, Bleeding Fabulous is a searing indictment of the Infected Blood Scandal, a tragedy that devastated thousands. Ward’s role in campaigning for justice, including his instrumental work toward securing the long-awaited public inquiry, demonstrates his tireless courage and commitment to others affected by bleeding disorders, regardless of their sexuality.

What sets this memoir apart is its fearless humour, warmth, and emotional honesty. Ward invites readers into the rawest parts of his life, without ever losing his sense of style or spirit. His writing is elegant, often funny, and always deeply human. With a foreword by Sam Stein KC and praise from leading legal and medical voices, this memoir is both a personal triumph and a vital historical record.

Bleeding Fabulous is, quite simply, remarkable—a testimony to survival, to living boldly, and to fighting for truth and dignity in the face of systemic injustice.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
A beautifully written, fiercely important, and undeniably fabulous read.

TATA FOR NOW . XXX David