Are you passionate about creativity, positivity, and representation? Would you like to be part of an uplifting magazine that celebrates diversity and individuality? Then this could be the opportunity for you.
I’m Steven Smith, Editor of 2Shades Magazine — a vibrant, happy LGBTQ+ publication where everyone is welcome. 2Shades is about joy, self-expression, and living life in full colour. We share stories that inspire, entertain, and connect people from every shade of the spectrum.
At the moment, the magazine is run independently and with heart. It doesn’t yet generate profit, and I’m not taking a salary for my writing or editorial work. But what we do have is potential, readership, and passion — a growing audience who believe in what 2Shades stands for: positivity, equality, and creative freedom.
Now, with my current partner stepping down who we loved and can not thank enough , The incredible Adishia chengappa,is going into full time eduction . I’m looking for a new collaborator or investor to join me on this journey.
🌈 Why Join 2Shades?
Be part of something meaningful. 2Shades isn’t just a magazine — it’s a community celebrating LGBTQ+ life, art, culture, and individuality.
Low entry, high potential. For £1,000, you can buy into the magazine and become my creative and business partner.
Help shape the next chapter. From editorial direction and digital strategy to sponsorship, advertising, and partnerships — your ideas will directly influence how we grow.
Your voice matters. Whether you’re a writer, marketer, designer, PR professional, or creative entrepreneur, this is a rare chance to make a real impact.
Build towards profit together. As the magazine grows through advertising, sponsorships, collaborations, and events, so does your stake and reward.
🌟 What I’m Looking For
Someone who believes in the message of inclusion and positivity — LGBTQ+ and allies alike.
Someone excited by independent media and the creative world.
A person who’s proactive, imaginative, and ready to build something with heart.
Ideally someone who can bring either creative skills, marketing ideas, or business insight — but most importantly, enthusiasm.
💬 Next Steps
If this sounds like you, let’s talk. I’ll share more about our readership, digital presence, plans for the year ahead, and how we can shape this partnership together.
Your £1,000 investment secures you a share in 2Shades, a say in editorial direction, and the chance to be part of something growing, inclusive, and joyfully unique.
Let’s make 2Shades not just a magazine — but a movement that celebrates difference and spreads happiness.
“I absolutely love Christmas,” says artist and designer Piluca Camino Alcón, her voice bright with the kind of infectious joy that instantly fills the room. “They used to call me Mama Xmas because I go all out. I host a big dinner on the 24th—that’s when we celebrate in Spain—and my doors are open to anyone who wants to join, especially those who might not have someone to spend it with.” For Piluca, the season is more than decorations or gifts. “I cook like a woman possessed,” she laughs. “Meats, seafood, you name it, it’s a proper bacanal! For me, Christmas is about people, laughter, music, and those real beautiful moments that make life worth living. My dinners are never those forced family affairs where everyone pretends to like each other. Mine are full of joy, dancing and love. It’s a celebration of life itself.”
This joyous, unfiltered energy seems to define everything about her. When asked if she’s been naughty or nice this year, Piluca laughs so hard she nearly spills her coffee. “This year I’ve been both gloriously naughty and impressively nice. I shattered expectations, ignored my own rulebook, and gave full permission to my wild inner freedom. I devoured all the cookies, then hit the gym like a warrior. Balance, darling—that’s the real art!” That combination of chaos and control, wildness and discipline, runs through both her personality and her work. Born in Madrid, she first came to London on holiday with her mother-in-law and fell in love with Brixton.
“The moment I stepped into Brixton in 1996, I fell in love. The energy, the cultural and ethnic mix, the unapologetic vibrancy—it was electric. There was this raw, unfiltered love for music and the arts, a non-judgmental openness in its people, and a market bursting with flavours, colours and life. It felt like home instantly.” She has stayed ever since, building a life and career rooted in that creative spirit. “I didn’t choose to become an artist,” she says simply. “I was born one. I have created for as long as I can remember. Being an artist is not a choice but a necessity. My ultimate aim is to connect, elicit a response and inspire through my practice.”
She has certainly done that. A published illustrator, sculptor, fashion designer and community organiser, Piluca was a finalist in the arts category for the WinTrade International Awards in 2018. During lockdown she threw herself into animation projects while developing her own fashion line. “Art is how I breathe,” she says. “My life and my creativity are so deeply intertwined that separating them would be impossible. Art is my voice, my refuge, and my power.” She speaks about her upbringing with disarming honesty. “My past shaped every part of me, and art became both my shield and my weapon. It has always been my therapy, my way of making sense of the world.” When she laughs, it’s the laughter of someone who has survived, rebuilt, and decided to celebrate it all anyway. Even under the mistletoe, she admits, there are no plans or rules. “Mistletoe’s kissing? Depends who’s standing under it first,” she grins. “I don’t plan these things. I improvise.”
That sense of improvisation seems to fuel her approach to both art and life. Her inspirations span from Spanish masters like Picasso, Dalí and Velázquez to contemporary icons such as Sarah Lucas, Judy Chicago and Yayoi Kusama. She’s also deeply influenced by the raw, expressive energy of street art. “It’s rebellious, emotional, connected to the real world. That’s what I love.” Yet, despite her international sensibility, she remains deeply rooted in Brixton. “London suits me fine,” she says. “I just dream of a bigger studio one day—warehouse big!”
“My dream for the year ahead is to keep evolving—becoming stronger, fitter, sharper. To keep inspiring my kids, pushing myself, and making the most of every moment.”
Family means everything to her. She has two sons, Carlos and Malachi, and both have inherited her creative fire. “Carlos reached Grade 8 on piano, and Malachi’s preparing for his Grade 5. They’re different but equally artistic. Carlos is grounded and business-minded, while Malachi is a free spirit, completely immersed in creativity, untouched by brands or status. At six, he said he wanted to be an artist, just like I did at his age.” Her eyes soften when she speaks about them. “What I teach them both is this: creativity is what sets us apart from the animal kingdom. It’s the ability to turn imagination into something tangible—to create what didn’t exist before. Life itself is art, and art gives life its meaning.”
Earlier this year, she travelled to Chicago to collaborate with acclaimed photographer Sandro Miller on his project I Am Beautiful, exploring inner beauty and self-love. “It was surreal,” she says. “Meeting him, his wife, his team—it felt like meeting someone from my tribe, someone who has used art as both shield and weapon. It was cathartic. I grew. I can’t wait to go back.” When asked what she wants most for 2026, her answer is immediate. “To keep being granted the strength, madness and magic to make things happen.”
As the conversation turns back to Christmas, Piluca’s eyes sparkle. “Christmas is the perfect metaphor for life,” she says. “It’s messy, loud, emotional—and if you open your heart to it, it’s beautiful. I don’t care about presents; I care about presence.” You can picture her back in Brixton, fairy lights strung from every corner, music playing, food piled high, her friends and family laughing and dancing around her. “That’s Christmas to me,” she says, smiling. “A celebration of life itself.”
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.
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.
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.”
Dear Heidi How are you? Please can I beg for your help? My best friend is driving me mad. She goes from one bad relationship to another. She loves the bad boy look — covered in tattoos and looking like they got out of prison last week. It’s always a car crash, and to be honest, my empathy is running low. It’s my birthday soon, and honestly, her whining on about her love life is not my idea of fun. Would it be wrong not to invite her? — Nadine, Essex
Dear Nadine, Oh, the endless bad-boy drama — I think we’ve all had a friend like this! It’s exhausting watching someone you care about drive straight into the same brick wall again and again, isn’t it? Here’s the thing: you can’t fix her, and it’s not your job to. If she chooses chaos, that’s her story to live — but you’re allowed to protect your own peace. For your birthday, surround yourself with people who bring joy, not stress. If inviting her will spoil your day, then don’t. You can see her another time when you have the energy to listen. Being a good friend doesn’t mean being a doormat — sometimes it means stepping back with love. Or be brave and tell her how you feel, that it’s draining you. Love, Heidi
Dear Heidi Really love the show. My husband has always been a bit homophobic. Six months ago, he liked my hair so much he wanted a few highlights. Knowing he’s not great about the gay thing, I suggested he shouldn’t go to my beautiful stylist — who is also a friend — but he insisted. His hair looked amazing, but a few weeks later I was shocked to find he’d been out for drinks with my hairdresser, and now they’ve become friends. He says it’s rubbish that he’s homophobic and that he enjoys the laughs they have together. There’s a lads’ weekend to Ibiza coming up — no ladies allowed, which is fine — but can you imagine my hairdresser going too? I asked him why, and he said he’s going anyway and will get them into a few clubs. What’s going on? — Marieanne, Southend
Dear Marieanne, Well, this is a twist! It sounds like your husband has discovered that friendship doesn’t have to come with labels — and that’s actually a good thing. Maybe getting to know your hairdresser has opened his eyes a little and softened his old prejudices. As for the Ibiza trip — I can see why your eyebrows are raised! But before your imagination books a one-way ticket to Jealousville, take a breath. This might simply be two people enjoying new company and shared humour. If your instincts tell you there’s something deeper going on, have an honest, calm chat. But don’t jump to conclusions — this could be the best thing to happen to your husband’s attitude. Who knows? He might come home with a tan, a hangover, and a new respect for your fabulous friend. Love, Heidi
Dear Heidi I am madly in love with this lad, and he’s only gone and asked my friend to the dance! Honestly, Heidi, I am fuming — and she knew I liked him. I’m fifteen, and she dresses like she’s a dancer, while my mum says no to lashes and short skirts. It’s not fair. I’ll probably never speak to her again. What can I do? — Mandy, Basildon
Dear Mandy, Oh sweetheart, teenage love can feel like the end of the world — but I promise, it isn’t. You’re fifteen, and your heart is still learning who deserves it. This boy clearly doesn’t, and your friend’s choices say more about her than they ever could about you. You don’t need lashes or short skirts to shine — confidence is far more magnetic than mascara. Let her have her dance; you focus on being you. One day soon, someone will see the real you and won’t want to dance with anyone else. For now, dry your tears, hold your head high, and remember — nothing burns brighter than self-respect. Love, Heidi
Dear Heidi I’m feeling really down. I’m so fat, my budget won’t stretch to fat injections, and the gym just leaves me flat. No girls like me, and I’m nineteen and not going out anymore. What can I do? — Peter, Brighton
Dear Peter, First, let me tell you this — you are not alone. So many young people feel exactly the way you do, especially with all the “perfect” bodies plastered across social media. But real attraction doesn’t come from injections or six-packs — it comes from self-worth, kindness, and confidence. Start small: walk, move, cook decent food, talk to people. Find one thing every day that makes you feel good — music, a hobby, helping someone, anything that builds you up instead of tearing you down. The more you value yourself, the more others will see your worth. Confidence isn’t something you buy — it’s something you grow, and it lasts far longer than any gym membership. Love, Heidi
Dear Heidi My husband has announced that his mother is coming for Christmas. She’s horrible — the most passive-aggressive, rude woman you could meet. We’ve never got on; she has a way of finding a cloud in every silver lining. She’s on her own, and honestly, that’s what she deserves. My husband says she’s not that bad. Should I tell him it’s me and the children or her — and leave home for Christmas? — Sandra
Dear Sandra, Ah, the mother-in-law Christmas horror — a timeless festive classic! I can hear the carols already: “Silent night? Not likely.” You clearly feel hurt and unseen by your husband, but issuing ultimatums rarely ends well. Instead, set clear boundaries. Tell him you’ll welcome his mother — but only if everyone treats each other respectfully. If she can’t manage that, then maybe she stays elsewhere next year. Remember, Christmas is one day. Don’t let her steal your sparkle — pour a glass of something festive, smile sweetly, and rise above her barbed comments. Nothing annoys a passive-aggressive person more than calm happiness. Love, Heidi
Hi Heidi Not really a problem, but how do you get to be a counsellor or agony aunt? — Simon
Dear Simon, What a lovely question! Becoming a counsellor or agony aunt starts with empathy — and you clearly have that. Training in counselling, psychology, or journalism helps, but life experience and genuine curiosity about people matter just as much. Start small: volunteer with support organisations, write advice pieces online, or train in active listening. The best agony aunts aren’t perfect — they’re just honest, compassionate, and willing to help others make sense of their messiest moments. And who knows, Simon — you might be writing your own “Dear Simon” column one day! Love, Heidi
In a world where many talk about what they might do someday, there are others who quietly get on with it—people who take action, push boundaries, and in doing so inspire those around them. Artist and photographer Annemarie Bickertonbelongs firmly in the latter category.
On Saturday, September 27, 2025, Bickerton swapped her camera for boxing gloves, stepping into the ring at The Troxy in London for an Ultra White Collar Boxing (UWCB) charity event. The evening brought together novice boxers from across the capital, each of them having undergone ten weeks of intensive training, with the dual aim of testing themselves and raising money for good causes.
For Bickerton, that cause was the Pink Ribbon Foundation, a UK charity that provides financial support to organisations helping those affected by breast cancer. It was a natural fit: she has previously worked with the foundation, staging her acclaimed “BustOut” exhibition at the Firepit Gallery at the O2. That exhibition combined bold visual art with advocacy, raising awareness and funds in equal measure.
This time, however, the setting was very different. The Troxy’s historic stage was transformed into a boxing arena, the atmosphere electric as friends, family, and supporters packed into the venue. Bickerton’s match ended officially as a draw, though audience members were quick to call it a clear win on her part.
The result, though, tells only part of the story. What makes Bickerton’s achievement stand out is the journey that led her there. For ten weeks, she trained with discipline and determination, rising early, attending gruelling sessions, and absorbing the technical and mental demands of boxing. “It was not natural for me at all,” she admitted beforehand. Yet she persevered, embodying the UWCB ethos of ordinary people doing extraordinary things for charity.
Bickerton’s decision to take up boxing was not made in isolation. She had first introduced the sport to her son, who lives with autism, as a way to build confidence and resilience. Facing bullying at school, he found empowerment in the discipline and structure of training. Inspired by his progress, Bickerton decided to follow suit. “Lead by example” became more than a phrase—it became a lived reality.
Those who know her were not surprised. Bickerton has long been recognised for her willingness to tackle challenges head-on, whether in her artistic practice or personal life. As a photographer and artist, she has built a reputation for bold, thought-provoking work that often blends beauty with social commentary. As a mother, she has consistently sought opportunities that empower her son and others facing adversity.
Her move into boxing might seem like a departure, but in many ways, it continues a consistent theme: using creativity, courage, and perseverance to make an impact.
Events like UWCB are not only about individual achievement but also about collective contribution. Since its founding, the organisation has raised millions of pounds for charities across the UK, with participants from all walks of life. Bickerton’s fight was one of dozens staged that evening, each carrying a personal story and a charitable purpose. Together, they highlighted the power of community fundraising through unconventional means.
For Bickerton, the fight capped months of hard work and represented more than just a physical test. It was a statement about resilience, visibility, and the importance of action. “Annemarie is a great example of what’s right in this world,” said one supporter. “She doesn’t just talk—she does.”
That ethos has earned her admiration not only from those close to her but from a wider circle who see in her story a reminder of what determination can achieve. In an age when so much energy is spent on words, Bickerton’s actions—whether through art, activism, or sport—speak louder.
As the cheers faded at the Troxy, the impact of her fight extended far beyond the ring. Funds had been raised for a vital cause, awareness had been heightened, and a powerful example had been set for her son and others: that courage comes in many forms, and that sometimes the greatest victories are not about titles or trophies but about showing up, standing tall, and refusing to back down.
With her gloves now set aside, Bickerton returns to her life as an artist, mother, and advocate. Yet the echoes of that night in the ring remain—a testament to the fighting spirit of a woman who refuses to be defined by limits.
Let’s be honest: a woman’s hair is her crown and glory. It’s part of her identity, her confidence, her style. And when it comes to royalty, that crown is both literal and symbolic. Princess Catherine—Kate, as we fondly call her—always manages to look spectacular. She carries herself with elegance and dignity, and despite facing health struggles, she continues to shine as my favourite member of the Royal Family.
So why, then, does the we feel the need to dissect every strand on her head? Recently, Kate decided to lighten her hair a touch. Not platinum, not peroxide blonde—just a soft, subtle lift. Hardly headline material, yet suddenly it’s splashed across the front pages. Is this really news?
I say this as someone who spent years as a celebrity hairdresser: hair is deeply personal. It’s not just style, it’s self-expression, sometimes even reinvention. I actually admire Kate for trying something new under the relentless glare of the cameras. Personally, I think she suits brunette best—but that’s beside the point. The point is, it’s her hair, her choice, and she looks radiant either way.
But what left me utterly flabbergasted was what happened next. A few days later, she attended a women’s rugby match with her hair pulled back in a ponytail—practical, appropriate, perfectly normal. And would you believe it? That too became a headline. A ponytail! Honestly, are we that short of news?
It makes me wonder about our priorities. Wars are raging, the cost of living is biting, families are struggling—and yet we’re fixated on whether a princess wears her hair up or down. Surely, we can do better.
Here’s what really matters: Kate represents grace, resilience, and positivity at a time when good news is hard to come by. She continues to serve, smile, and inspire, even while facing challenges of her own. She is a mother, a wife, a public figure, and a future queen—and she handles it all with poise. That deserves admiration, not nit-picking.
So, my view is simple. Leave Kate’s hair alone. Celebrate the woman, not the ponytail. Applaud her courage, her elegance, her humanity. Hair grows; styles change—but the strength of character she shows every day? That’s what truly deserves the front page.
Why Do So Many Smart Women Fall Under the Spell of Con Men?
It’s not about weakness—it’s about hope, empathy, and the universal desire to be loved.
Before we begin, let’s be clear: this isn’t unique to women. Men, too, can fall victim to manipulation, deceit, and what we might call a “love con.” Yet it remains striking how often we see bright, accomplished women—lawyers, doctors, business leaders, and artists—caught in the webs spun by controlling, Svengali-type men.
This was brought home to me recently while watching Love Con: Revenge on Netflix. The series exposes the astonishing ways charismatic fraudsters charm their way into people’s lives, leaving devastation behind. The victims are not naïve or unintelligent. Quite the opposite—they’re usually sharp, capable, and worldly. Yet even they are drawn into the con, sometimes for years.
The Psychology of the “Love Con”
Why does this happen? Why do intelligent women—women who can negotiate boardrooms, run companies, and juggle families—become vulnerable when love enters the picture? Is there, as cynics suggest, something in female nature that makes women more susceptible when romance is involved?
I don’t believe it’s about weakness. If anything, it’s about strength—and hope. Many women are deeply empathetic, nurturing, and generous. They are also willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. These qualities are admirable, yet they are the very traits manipulators exploit. Con men mirror back what their victims long to see: affection, stability, the promise of being cherished. By the time the illusion cracks, the emotional investment is so deep that leaving feels impossible.
Neuroscience sheds light here. Falling in love floods the brain with dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin—the same chemicals associated with addiction. Under their influence, judgment clouds and red flags fade. Intelligence doesn’t disappear; it’s simply overwhelmed by biology.
The Celebrity Trap
Even women with power, influence, and entire teams of advisors aren’t immune. How many times have we seen successful actresses or performers introduce a new partner, only to announce within months that he is now their manager? Management is a skilled profession requiring experience and industry knowledge. Yet suddenly, the boyfriend is running the show.
Rarely does it end well. Take Joan Collins, who married Peter Holm in 1985. Within weeks, he had become her manager and co-producer. By 1987, the marriage collapsed in a storm of bitterness.
I’ve seen the same pattern in everyday life. Brilliant women who once spoke their minds now begin every sentence with, “And Joe says…”—as if their identity has been swallowed whole. The pattern is chillingly predictable: isolate her from friends, cut ties with anyone who might see through the act, and gradually take total control. Netflix’s Dirty John dramatises this cycle with unnerving accuracy.
Ghislaine Maxwell:
Consider, too, the controversial case of Ghislaine Maxwell. An intelligent, educated woman from a powerful family, she nonetheless became the enabler of Jeffrey Epstein. Was he a replacement father figure for the domineering Robert Maxwell? Did her need for validation blind her to the enormity of his crimes?
Whatever the reason, it is telling that Epstein’s male associates have largely escaped accountability, while Maxwell sits behind bars. She has become, many argue, the fall guy in a sordid melodrama. Her case is a stark reminder of how even the brightest women can be drawn into the orbit of a manipulative man.
Beyond Blame
So why do smart women fall for con men? Because intelligence is not a shield against love, against hope, or against the human desire to be needed. These women are not foolish—they are human.
If anything, their empathy, generosity, and optimism make them prime targets. And until society learns to place blame squarely where it belongs—on the men who manipulate, control, and exploit—the cycle will continue.
The question, then, should not be “Why do women fall for con men?” but rather, “Why do we allow con men to keep exploiting love so freely?”
Because in the end, the real con is not about women being weak—it’s about predators preying on the very best of human qualities.
Will Harry Meet Charlie?
There is so much speculation surrounding Prince Harry’s upcoming visit. Will he meet with his father, or won’t he? That’s the question on everyone’s lips.
First of all, he is King Charles’s son—and whether he is seen as the prodigal son or not, I truly hope a meeting takes place. After all, no amount of titles or headlines can change the simple truth of family.
As a nation, we watched Harry and his brother William Walk behind their mother’s coffin. They were just boys, and the emotional and psychological impact of that moment must have been unimaginable. It shaped both of them forever, and perhaps explains much about the men they have become.
Of course, all families have rifts. Harsh words get said, mistakes are made, and Harry has certainly made some. His marriage added another layer of complexity, and Meghan herself is another story entirely. But to dismiss him outright would be unfair.
Harry was always one of my favourite royals. He brought a youthful sparkle and an authenticity to public life that made him stand out. Whatever the differences, I hope father and son can find their way back to each other.
“We are all born as blank canvases; hate, racism, and a lack of understanding are learned.” How you choose to see the world and create the tapestry of your life is up to you. Blanky is here to “Make Earth Safe Again.”
Blanky told Patrick not to worry. He assured him that everything would be fine now, and encouraged him to keep shining brightly, just as he always had. Patrick’s new friends, though they noticed he was a little different, were happy to welcome him into their games. It had only taken a little time to explain how truly amazing Patrick was, and once they understood, they accepted him with open arms. “But you’re going,” said Patrick, his voice trembling as he clutched Blanky tightly. “What will I do without you?” Blanky’s gentle voice carried calm reassurance. “No, Patrick. I won’t really be gone. I am energy, and energy can never disappear—it just changes form. I’ll always be here, watching over you. If you ever really need me, just shout, and I’ll come. But please, Patrick, promise me something. Be your own unique energy. Be proud of who you are. Only call for me if it’s a true emergency. The rest of the time, I want you to stand tall and make yourself proud.” With those words, Blanky shimmered, the soft glow around him brightening before he vanished into the air like starlight carried away by the wind. Far away, 7,000 miles from Waterloo in London, lay the warm and glittering shores of the Dominican Republic. Though oceans stretched between them, Blanky could still hear faint cries for help echoing across the world. Something was wrong—deeply wrong. He could feel it in the atmosphere. The balance was shifting, and a dark presence stirred. Blanky recognised it instantly: the Olethros. They were near, and they were meddling again, leaving the planet weak and gasping for breath. His worst fears were soon confirmed. On a sandy beach, lying helplessly on its side, was a dolphin. Its sleek silver body was scratched and bruised, its breath ragged as it struggled to survive. Being made of pure energy, Blanky could communicate with all living creatures. He knelt by the suffering animal, his voice soft and kind. “Help me… help me to the water,” the dolphin squeaked weakly. First, Blanky placed his glowing hands upon the dolphin’s wounds. A gentle light poured out of him, soothing the creature’s pain and knitting torn skin. Slowly, the dolphin’s panic subsided. Then Blanky transformed—his body reshaping into that of a tall, powerful man. With strength that came not from muscle but from energy itself, he lifted the dolphin carefully and carried it back into the turquoise sea. The moment they touched the water, the dolphin raised its head and spoke clearly. “I am Stinggal,” it said, its voice now stronger, though tinged with sorrow.
As the waves lapped around them, Blanky allowed his energy to flow once more, transforming himself into a dolphin so he could swim alongside Stinggal. Their fins cut through the water with ease as they dived into the deeper blue, exploring the world beneath the surface. But there was little joy to be found there. The sea was clouded, its once-crystal depths marred by floating waste. Fish darted nervously, entangled in nets that stretched endlessly across the ocean floor. The corals, once glowing with colour, were bleached and broken. “The sea is being poisoned,” Stinggal said, his tone heavy with grief. “It is the work of the one they call the Orange Man. He cares only for money and fame. He tears down forests and scars the earth. He pours filth into the oceans and poisons the air. He does not care for life, only for power and wealth. If this continues, my kind—and many others—will soon vanish forever.” Blanky swam alongside him, listening intently as Stinggal continued. “They no longer respect the natural order. Fishing is allowed everywhere, without limit. Great nets are dragged across the seas, destroying entire habitats. The young are caught with the old. The strong are trapped with the weak. Nothing is spared. If something is not done, the oceans will become empty deserts, and the balance of the whole world will collapse.” Blanky’s heart, though made of energy, ached with sorrow. He had seen the Olethros bring destruction before, but this was different. This was not just one species in danger—this was the very foundation of the planet being eroded. He looked at Stinggal, whose bright eyes flickered with both hope and fear. “Then we must fight,” Blanky said firmly. “Not with anger, but with courage and truth. The Orange One may have power, but the Earth has a voice of its own. We will remind the world to listen.” Stinggal gave a small, hopeful leap from the water, droplets sparkling around him like diamonds. “Then perhaps there is still a chance,” he said softly. “The Orange One lives in the country of stars and stripes. He silences anyone who is different, anyone who dares to protect the planet.” “Then let’s swim,” said Blanky. Side by side, the two dolphins swam into the vast horizon, ready to face whatever darkness lay ahead. After many days, they reached the shores of Florida, where it was time to part. Stinggal nuzzled Blanky gently. “Do not worry. I’ll be back when you need me.” The Orange One—whom the world called Orangey—was guarded in a huge white house. For most, it would be impossible to reach him. He was in human form, but his skin was unnaturally orange and crispy-looking. Sitting behind a great oak desk, he shuffled papers, smirking at his own power. The heavy doors swung open, and a pale, sharp-faced woman entered. “I have some prizes for you, for being so amazing,” she said with a smile. “Thank you. Put them on the desk,” Orangey replied, barely looking up. “You’ll be impressed,” the woman continued. “We’ve just brought plastic back everywhere—no restrictions. We’ve reopened drilling for oil. And best of all, we’ve banned the words global warming from every official report.” “Fake news!” Orangey barked, slamming his hand on the desk. The blonde woman jumped up and down with excitement. “Well done! Did you also ban those who don’t speak English fluently from entering the country?” “All done,” Orangey said proudly. “Soon, we will drain this world of every resource. When it is broken and empty, we’ll move on—just like we did with Alacritas.” The woman clapped her pale hands, though her skin did not yet have the telltale orange hue of the Olethros. But Blanky knew what they were. The Olethros always revealed themselves in the end, their bodies glowing with a sickly orange light as they fed on destruction. This time, he could not allow it. Earth would not be their next victim. Blanky hovered at the window of the great white house, his body shimmering with invisible energy. He could see Orangey and his pale companion celebrating their victories, blind to the damage they had sown across the planet. It was time. The battle to save Earth was about to begin.
Even before David J Howe was born, the world of print and storytelling was already close at hand. His father worked in the printing department at the Daily Express newspaper, a job he kept until the paper moved out of Fleet Street in 1984. Neither father nor son could have foreseen that David’s fascination with a certain Saturday evening television programme would grow into a lifelong obsession — one that would shape his career, his friendships, and ultimately even save his life.
We sat down with David to talk about Doctor Who, the Daleks, and his extraordinary new memoir Who Me!.
John Pertwee and David ,,,
From Fan to Creator
Q: Do you remember when the magic of Doctor Who first gripped you?
David: I was just a boy in South London during the 1960s, when Dalek toys were everywhere. Like a lot of children, I was completely captivated. By the time I was 15, I was so inspired that I decided to build my own Dalek. My father used to bring home waste plastic from the printing floor, and I scavenged other bits and pieces. Using those materials, I built a full-size Dalek from scratch. It was a labour of love — and in a way, the start of everything that followed.
Father and son build a Dalek
Working with the Doctor
Q: Your journey from fan to authority on the show is remarkable. What were the big turning points?
David: I began collecting, writing, and eventually contributing to the world of Doctor Who. One of the most extraordinary moments was working with Jon Pertwee himself. Helping him with his autobiography was a privilege and a huge learning experience. Over the years, I became more and more involved in chronicling the programme’s history — from conventions and events to writing books that many fans now consider reference staples.
Q: You’ve said that Doctor Who quite literally saved your life. Can you tell us about that?
David: Yes, it’s true. A few years ago, I was heading to Cardiff for a Doctor Who exhibition — specifically to see the Daleks. On the way, I suffered a massive heart attack. If I had been at home, I wouldn’t have survived. But because of that trip, I happened to pass right by Cardiff University Hospital, one of the best cardiac hospitals in the country. I was rushed straight there. Without that coincidence, without that journey to see the Daleks, I simply wouldn’t be here today.
And of course, I wasn’t alone. My wife, bestselling author Samantha Lee Howe, has been my rock through it all. Without her support, recovery would have been a much harder road.
David with his beautiful wife and best selling author Samantha Lee Howe .
The Memoir: Who Me!
Q: Your new book, Who Me!, comes out this October. What can readers expect?
David: The book is my story, but it’s also the story of Doctor Who told through a very personal lens. I wanted to show how a television programme can shape a life, a culture, and even a country. I take readers behind the scenes — from the earliest fan conventions to my work documenting the series in print. I talk about working with Jon Pertwee, interviewing actors like Peter Davison, and even how the BBC began to understand and build its merchandise empire.
More than that, it’s about the joy of fandom, the friendships forged, the challenges faced, and the way Doctor Whobecame — and remains — a defining part of British popular culture.
Final Thoughts
Q: Why should readers pick up Who Me!?
David: Because it’s not just a fan’s tale. It’s a story about passion, perseverance, and the power of popular culture. Anyone interested in Doctor Who, or in British television history more broadly, will find something to enjoy. And I hope it shows that sometimes, what we love most can guide our lives in ways we never expect.
David with 70;s icon and Dr Who assistant Frazer Hines
📖 Who Me! by David J Howe Publication date: 9 October 2025 Formats: Hardback, Digital, Audio Publisher: Bedford Square Available on Amazon
On the back of Tommy Fury documentary The Good . The Bad .The Fury that I really enjoyed I am re running my article on Tyson from 2022
Hero or villain? Steven Smith looks at what it takes to be the man who has everyone talking, the heavyweight boxing champion of the world, Tyson Fury.
A hero to the poor with his charitable donations to the homeless, a champion for mental health and the self-proclaimed ‘King of the Gypsies’. Tyson standing at 6’9” embodies all that can be labelled as masculine, yet unlike many hard men, this giant breaks the mould. He has started to wear his heart on his sleeve and has opened up, talking frankly of his demons, depression, and personal battles with addiction.
Tyson also adds to the list that he is bipolar and suffers from anxiety. But is it possible that the man of the moment, who is so desperate for the world to perceive him as super masculine is still, as his father John Fury described him, a shy and sensitive overweight boy inside? Was it this shy boy that begged for the acceptance of his boxing coach father? Was it his unconventional gypsy upbringing that pushed him into a mould of boxing and masculinity, which subsequently became the root of Tyson’s demons and depression? Is it the often toxic masculinity that is piled on to so many young men during their upbringing, the cause of his trauma and mental health issues later in life?
Now, I like Tyson Fury. He is fascinating, and from the minute he burst on to our screens, I was aware of him. There was something that made me want to stop and listen; he appeared to be a model hero on paper. His smile lights up the screen, and his enthusiasm for life makes me want to know more. Then there is the unconditional love that he has for his family, which simply melts your heart.
“The best part of my life is taking my kids to school. I could live in a cardboard box and eat cheese sandwiches, as long as my family is with me“.
Tyson tells us though it is doubtful that his gorgeous wife Paris, who he has been with since they were teenagers, would ever let it come to that. She is one shrewd cookie and lives like a footballer’s wife rather than a gypsy though you can’t imagine Victoria Beckham arriving in Vegas and going straight in to do David’s dirty dishes.
But of course, once it was pointed out that this man, who I would want on my team in any battles, did not just have traditional values but what some might consider downright prehistoric values, I was speechless.
Unbelievably, in 2015, in an interview on TheJeremy Vine show, with gay rights campaigner Peter Tatchell, he compared gays to paedophiles, claiming that homosexuality is “One of the three things that will lead to the apocalypse; the other two being abortion and paedophilia”.
Even his younger brother Love Island star Tommy seems to have taken the anti-gay stance On a now disabled Twitter account, Tommy tweeted his older brother, Tyson, allegedly stating “Come on bro, let’s get dis win good luck brother and Chisora is a f***** and he’s gettin it proper @TysonFury”.
In 2018 he was nominated for Sports Personality of the Year, yet his homophobic comments and derogatory sex views came back to haunt him, with calls to remove him and comments made including:
“So, when Tyson Fury is called the people’s champion, it begs the question: which people?”
Challenged about his views by one reporter, he sat in his van replying “Jesus loves you”.
Tyson has since apologised for his outburst and controversial views.
Were these Tyson’s views or were they opinions that had been drummed into him from an early age by someone else? Or was it a culture of growing up in the gypsy community, not known to embrace and welcome gay people among their tribe?
Fellow gypsy fighter, Billy Joe Saunders says, “Where we come from, if you show weakness, you might as well give up on life as a fighter”. It’s a world where men fought, and women, as quoted by Tyson himself, were ‘best flat on their back or in the kitchen’.
Tyson comes from a world where LGBTQ is stamped on with ferocity. Anyone who has read ‘Gypsy Boy’ by Mikey Walsh will find it not only a harrowing experience but a moving and humorous one too. Brilliantly written, it tells the story of a gay boy brought as a Romanian and unable to conform to his expectations of masculinity. The description of the brutality he suffered, at the hand of his father, as the reader, stained the pages with my tears.
Yet, at the end of the book, his father unexpectedly turned up to see Walsh, now a teacher, despite the violence
Could growing up in a tightly knit community with some values and beliefs that are from a by-gone age, be like other, almost closed communities or cults and brainwash their young?
Tyson appears to be an intelligent man, embracing all that life has to offer, in a way an old soul that could see that the bright lights of Hollywood or Vegas could not compare to his roots in Morecambe, or make him any happier for that matter.
“From the age of six, all I ever dreamed of was being a boxer, now I have it all; I am the greatest boxer in the world yes, I have sinned, suffered from depression and anxiety, and I am bipolar”, he tells viewers.
Tyson does not have it all; regrettably, he does not have good mental health, something money or fame can’t replace.
His dad, John Fury, is not a likeable character; there is something a little sad about him, almost broken, floored and in denial. He tells us that Tyson’s mental health has been impacted due to being so successful and mixing with millionaires and celebrities.
There is something that screams ‘pushy show biz mum’ about him. That statement about his son confirmed my suspicions; that he would like very much to have been Tyson.
“I am sure that I have depression but, in my day, we had to worry about keeping a roof over my family’s head and food on the table, there was no time to think of any of that”.
I am sure at heart he loves his son, but he displays little understanding or empathy for mental health issues. To be fair to John, however, he did come from an age where issues such as mental health were rarely discussed.
In the first of the series John who is banned from America for a criminal conviction, after being released from prison in 2015 following a four-year completion of an 11-year sentence, for gouging another man’s eye out during a brawl at a car auction, tells us that Tyson was a shy, sensitive, fat kid. “I brought all my boys up the same; to fight; I trained them myself”. John, a bare-knuckle boxer must have had the same training from his father as a boy and probably would not think that any of his boys could be different. Young men or boys who have toxic masculinity forced upon them can have extreme consequences to their mental wellbeing, particularly on the sensitive child or those that do not fit the macho mould.
What does toxic masculinity mean?
Researchers have defined it as encompassing;
Suppressing emotions or masking distress
Maintaining an appearance of hardness
Violence as an indicator of power (think: “tough-guy” behaviour)
In other words, toxic masculinity is what can come of teaching boys that they can’t express their emotions openly; that they have to be “tough all the time”; that anything other than that makes them feminine or weak. (No, it doesn’t mean that all men are inherently toxic.) The harmful side effects can, however, develop into homophobia, or misogyny.
Toxic masculinity, according to Psycom and several surveys, can lead to suicide, depression, anxiety, addiction, and drug use.
A 2017 survey by the Equality and Human Rights Commission found that gypsies, travellers and Roma were found to suffer “poorer mental health than the rest of the population in Britain” and were “more likely to suffer from anxiety and depression”.
Only last year Billy and Joe Smith, stars of My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding were found dead in a suicide pact. They had both been struggling with mental health issues.
Now, looking back, I was a sensitive kid too. My dad introduced me to football by heading the ball at my head in the front room. It made me cry, and I hated football from then on. As an adult, I am quite sporty, but Dad could never really teach me anything. The last thing I needed was tough love.
Is it not possible that locked in this huge massive man is the shy, sensitive kid at loggerheads with who he has become? Desperate to please his father, who needed his shy son to “Man up”. The poor man can find a cloud in every silver lining; it must have been hard for the young Fury.
To be honest, the penny drops on what it was that that I saw in Tyson. He had the traits of another beautiful man who had the same personal scenario. He too could be charming, but many said he was bad news; he lived with depression, anxiety and had addiction issues, yet there was something I adored about him.
He had a troubled childhood and was abandoned as a kid by his father. He told me about the days his dad left, with such vivid description, despite being only 8 years old at the time. It was at that moment I saw that very child looking at me through man’s eyes. Taking a shot, I told him “that frightened child is with you every day, you protect him with your front”. There was a silence and the relief that someone had seen the real him, and because he did not feel judged, he could be himself. That’s what I saw in Tyson.
My money is on the fact that Tyson is at loggerheads with himself.
Everyone around him seems to be at loggerheads with Tyson’s new direction. Whilst embracing wealth and lifestyle, some of them claim to want to stay with the traditions of the travelling community.
Tyson wants to set precedents and make changes within the gypsy community. He hates “dream crushers”, whatever his kids want to be, he will be fully supportive.
Yet in a U-turn, wife Paris, who earlier in the show, ‘Tyson Fury Gypsy King’, says she lived her earlier years as a traveller in a caravan now says that she could not bear to leave her beautiful home with hot water and mod cons and her beloved trips to Marbella.
GQ picture Tommy Fury BBC I player .
Paris wants the kids raised as travellers. The kids will leave school at 11, and when they marry, they can then leave home, (No room for any of the kids to be gay in that plan then). Daughter Venezuela, who wants to be a dancer or gymnast, calls her mum ‘dream crusher’. Paris comments that Venezuela is already too tall to become either; Venezuela does have a point.
You like Paris in the show, but it’s hard not to, but you want to give her a reality check. When she is not cooking for the massive family, Paris seems to spend the rest of her time in the hairdressers.
Tyson clashes with her; he is keen as ‘King’ to make changes; the kids should stay in school; they can embrace both lifestyles. Here is where I thought he could bring about change, as he moves among the likes of the ‘queens’ dream’ gay ally, Robbie Williams, along with other showbiz pals.
It is possible to educate a homophobe, misogynist, or even a bigot, especially if you take them out of an environment that is steeped in it.
My bet is if Tyson’s demons do not cause him to self-destruct, let’s hope he fights them as hard as any opponent. Tyson could be the king that brings a kinder, more tolerant era to the gypsy community.
After all, a man who pays €200 for two lobsters and sets them free can’t be all that bad!
The word visionary gets thrown around far too easily. But Russell T Davies’s Years and Years earns the label. Six years after it first aired, it looks less like drama and more like a blueprint for the world we’re stumbling into.
Rewatch it now, and it feels psychic. Political chaos, social unrest, the rise of populism—it’s all there. And unless we wise up, the show won’t be a warning. It will be a prophecy.
Russell T Davies a psychic for sure a genius in his craft .
No, we don’t have Vivienne Rook. But we do have her male counterpart: Nigel Farage. Like Rook, he plays the grinning “man of the people,” shaking hands in Runcorn and smiling for the cameras. But behind the performance lies something darker—homophobia, intolerance, and politics built on fear.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russell_T_Davies
I do not support Reform UK, but it would be foolish to dismiss their rise. This isn’t business as usual. Their growing popularity is dangerous, particularly for LGBTQ+ communities and minority groups. A few months ago, I pointed out how clever it was to put Sarah Pochin—the friendly, mum-next-door figure—front and centre in Runcorn, a town already uneasy about immigration and crime. But that was just a mask. The real Reform heavyweights—Anne Widdecombe and others—are waiting in the wings.
Vivienne Rook played by Emma Thompson . The smiling pr face of Reform Sarah Pochin and the real deal Farage and Widecombe .
Meanwhile, protests against asylum seekers grow louder. Hotels are shutting, talk of “temporary camps” is surfacing, and once again Years and Years looks disturbingly accurate.
The truth is simple: Britain needs immigration. Since Brexit, we’ve been short of workers. And asylum seekers are not faceless statistics—they’re people fleeing torture, persecution, or death. Yes, a small minority will cause problems, but scapegoating the many for the sins of the few is cowardly politics.
And what do the hotel protests achieve? Nothing but anger. The Vile e image of men and woman wrapped in the St George’s Cross turning the English flag into a symbol of division.
A flag of our country we should be proud of . Not one used for racism .
Davies warned us about this too. Suppressing extreme voices doesn’t silence them—it pushes them underground, where they grow more dangerous. In Years and Years, those who should never have been jailed became martyrs. In real life, extremists are being elevated in exactly the same way.
Meanwhile, fear grips ordinary people. In London, as in most major towns, there are streets best avoided at night. That fear is oxygen for extremists.
We’re also hollowing out our culture. Hard-won expertise is being replaced with one-week certificates. People call themselves “experts” in trades and professions that once took years of graft. We let them.
And we celebrate the wrong things. We tell ourselves we want a country built on skills, morals, and manners—yet we reward celebrity over substance. How can we build anything solid when voters shrug at lies, when eight-year-old girls aspire not to be nurses or teachers but the next Katie Price? If we don’t act, the rot will be ours to own.
Then there’s technology. Phones have become extensions of our bodies. AI is already replacing jobs. Humans risk becoming redundant in a world they created.
And celebrity still rules. We’ve already lived through the reality TV star who became President of the United States. His orange finger hovered over the nuclear button while he shouted, “You’re fired!” The laugh track is gone. The danger is real.
Davies even nailed the imagery: the “£1 T-shirt,” the slow creep of authoritarianism, the erosion of freedoms. Years and Years feels less like fiction with every passing headline.
Unless we wake up, unless we stop normalising dangerous rhetoric, it won’t be long before Farage—or someone worse—takes the helm. And then Years and Years will no longer be television. It will be our future.
2Shades Magazine 