Getting plastered in style!

Britain held its breath at the thought of his work, the public are torn
and builders think of him as a new Casanova. So who is the man behind the mould? Here, Jamie McCartney lets us in on the joke.

“This is apparently meant to fit in someone’s bum!’ he laughs waving around a customised dildo, with a boyish grin on his face. “But…” he says as he pushes aside the curtain into his workshop “I had to find a whole new casting process for this one!” unveiling what looks like a solid concrete traffic bollard. The customer, who has ordered through his webpage, “was very specific about the dimensions” says Jamie, “I really wanna meet the guy, it could be interesting!”

Brighton’s thriving alternative spirit makes it both unsurprising and a little shocking to find Jamie McCartney’s personal studio full of nude to rude body castings. “It’s a great place to be,” says Jamie “you meet some really great people and some weird ones. One guy came in and wanted to buy his girlfriend a dildo filled with Palma Violet sweets. I get some funny requests.” Jamie speaks through his laughter, contagious to the people around him. Characteristically darting off to find something else entertaining, he calls “This one’s really cool! The whole family came in and spoke about what they wanted… something to symbolise their family, to go on the mantelpiece, instead of just a sculpture or an ornament. Then we all came up with the idea of interlacing their hands and everybody was like this… and doing this…” he giggles, whilst looking as if he is trying to turn himself upside down on the spot, “and practising with their hands in a bucket, because once you’re in the mould you only have a few seconds to get into the right position. Work is really fun!”

His simple, black, leather bound portfolio is speckled with plaster, camouflaged alongside the many art books on the shelf. “He doesn’t take himself too seriously,” says his personal assistant Sarah Thomas “but his work is everything to him. In fact, it’s so much a part of him that plaster is on every piece of clothing he has!” Jamie learnt most of his techniques through his own work experience on feature films, including ‘Black Hawk Down’ and ‘Around the World in 80 Days’. “Jackie Chan is a great guy”, he says with that same boyish grin, as he comes across a photo of the two laughing into the lens. Completing an experimental art degree has encouraged Jamie to find his own form of art expression. “I have an aim, but I explore different avenues…It opens doors”.

It is just this attitude that surrounds Jamie with the attention he is so blasé about attracting. His recent venture ‘Design A Vagina’ is bound up in controversy from all over the globe, but it is exactly this taboo he aims to get rid of. “When I was doing ‘Spice of Life’, I found women had insecurities too, like men do. I think porn has given people misconceptions of normal and so I designed this, to show that there isn’t one”. Design A Vagina will eventually consist of 5 panels containing 40 genital casts from all different women. Shrugging off bad media, and wiping his brow, he says “I have read stories about my work. I even had a guy in here the other day from a paper – he completely missed the point and totally slammed me. He wasted my time. The volunteers that took part will be my strongest defenders. I own an art gallery.”

Jamie faced his biggest emotional challenge yet this year, with the loss of his father to prostate cancer. Though a hard time for them both, Jamie made two casts of his fathers face. One before, and one following his death. ‘After’ was made out of tar “because that was just a reflection of how I was feeling at the time. I went into the morgue and… it was a very weird experience.” Jamie lets out a sigh, and then, holding up both the moulds side by side, he chuckles “Wow, uhm, I’ve never really seen them like this before.”

Jamie’s work has bewildered the world, he has been praised for creating ‘emotionally loaded objects with immense power’ but is more than enthusiastic to step up to the call and model himself, having had “a full body cast…” he says with a cheeky wink “I was forty dead people in Troy, they kept replicating me! I bumped into a guy who swore he knew me from somewhere, but I’d never met him before. And then he realised, he actually came over to me laughing. Turns out he has my head on his shelf at home - he’d stolen it from the set. That was a weird day!”

On a Saturday lunchtime Jamie has deadlines looming over him for the following week. He searches for his glasses, sits and looks out to the pier with his hands on his head, almost singing “I’m so busy, I have so much to do”. Sticky notes are dotted around everywhere, even his mirror has a note written in lipstick and there are brown paper bags ripped and pinned up as reminders, amongst random body casting scraps. He has two mobile phones on the side that keep adding to the music “That’s my PA working overtime! She’s always leaving me messages. I am so forgetful.”

“Jamie was always an alternative guy” says good friend and client Dave Poole. “We went to Westminster school together. He was a non-conformist, and he had this creative spark and a kind of flare that you couldn’t miss. It was fantastic. I read about him and saw he was doing really well, doing casts of body parts… and other things too! So I gave him a call and he invited the whole family down. It was great fun, and definitely a very emotional experience. He has managed to capture an exact copy and a sense of permanence; it’s the value of the past and present.” Jamie grew up with his mother and sister who both work in the artistic industry “I was into all that hippie stuff, I had peace signs all over my clothes”. He describes his house now as “very boho” and when asked about his own family, he laughs “do I have kids? Not that I know of!”

Jamie quickly pops outside and chats to the builders below, the same builders that tantalise people on entering the studio. It’s raining but it doesn’t stop Jamie from involving himself in a bit of banter. As he comes back inside, he is laughing still: “Do you know you have a whole load of bell ends in the background of that photo?!”

Welcome to the Real World

How unbelievable it is in the year 2009 to still hear the phrase “welcome to real world” impertinently used, as we boast of our multicultural embrace. Is it just me that sees this as the biggest contradiction mankind has ever made?

Not only this, but how patronising to be so dismissive of another way. The very fact there is the term ‘multicultural’ proves that there are other approaches and the existence of this shows they work just as well as ours.

This dim-witted and frankly ill-educated remark can be applied to almost any scenario, especially if you are someone with a more relaxed disposition on life. Don’t want to work a 9-5 job? Welcome to the real world. Shouldn’t feel you have to forfeit your last luxury to afford your transit ticket? Welcome to the real world. It sounds to me like what they are really saying is “there is no place for a non-conformist.” As astonishing as it is that someone so bitter and jealous could spark up and spread the skill of subjecting this upon the adventurous, I do find it quite disturbing. This real world they’re on about seems full of sacrifice and settling.

Nowadays it seems as if you need to have a degree to be accepted into this elitist group. Sure, it can be beneficial, but what they fail to tell you is that it depends on what you want to do and what type of person you are. And what if you decide to go backpacking? On your return you are normally “not on the same planet” as everyone else. Yet it is these people exactly that know more about our planet than anyone. And still people believe they have a moral duty to initiate the people “living with the fairies” back into the ‘real world’, completely ignoring that maybe your new found hobby of ecology is because you actually care .

I have even generously considered that maybe I am wrong, and that in fact this theory regarding life will provide you with utmost prosperity and a life full of wondrous guarantees. But so far, no luck. And it’s not much fun either.

So, to all you people that impose your pessimism unto the air of innocence, I have news for you. Yes, there is one ‘real world’. But there is an amazing amount of ways to live it.

A life in the day: Ami Harrison

The English born international backpacker, 19, is eager to see the world. She currently lives in Noosa, Australia with her boyfriend Dean and 6 keen surfers.

I am so happy right now, I am jealous of myself. Every morning, the sun seeps in through the blinds and as if we plan it, Dean and I wake up at exactly the same time. We wander down past Little Cove dodging a few basking snakes, and make it into New Zealand Natural for our half price pure juice smoothies before 8:30am.

When we get home, we abide by our unwritten manifesto: I make the bed, while Dean sets up breakfast. Usually we have fresh melon, but sometimes he’ll make a fry up or crumpets, to give us a taste of England. If I haven’t slept well, I can be really grumpy in the morning and I’ll argue that today we are swopping roles. Once when I tried to surprise him with a full-English breakfast but the eggs were raw and the bacon was burnt and it almost ended in food poisoning, so now I don’t argue that much. We eat on the balcony overlooking the pool with the nice friendly rainbow-coloured parrots that saunter around our table, but we can get these big black crows that attack you when you’re not looking, like something out of a Hitchcock movie.

I also live with two Swedes, two Brits, one Canadian and one Chilean. We all squeeze into a 3 bedroom apartment, but because I am the only girl I am treated like a princess and Dean and I get the en-suite.

Around mid-morning all the boys stride in from an early surf and entertain me with their passion over the latest surf reports and wild stories of where the rip took them, or how awesome the swell was. It seems like every day one of them is mending a ding, which makes me wonder how good they actually are.

If someone starts making lunch, we all cram into the kitchen, it’s basically a house rule. Dean and I make a picnic to take to the beach, usually a baguette and pringles and lots and lots of water because there is no shade at the beaches in the national park.

Just after midday our friends who we are travelling with come across town and the whole herd of us stroll along the coastline and past a few resident koalas towards Granit Bay. To get to the beach you have pick a track down the cliff, we go for the mudslide but there’s vine swings and all. I love this about Noosa, it is so ‘au-natural’. In fact, it even has its very own nudist beach - Alexandria Bay.

The water is getting colder as it’s coming into winter, but I still go in to prove a point. Dean runs around screaming like a girl because it’s too cold. Sometimes he attempts surfing, but can’t even make it past the break. I’ll sunbathe and lazily read a Bill Bryson book.

The hardest part of my day is driving to Coles, our local supermarket. There are always events in town which cause mass parades of people, or an echidna or snake to dodge on the road. We pick up melon for the morning and something nice for dinner. Dean’s the chef, so it’s almost always seafood, but when money’s tight we’ll have spaghetti bolognaise.

At about 5:30pm we meet everyone at ‘The Point’ for fishing. More or less every day since we’ve been here dolphins swim around the bay just before sunset, so sometimes we’ll swim in and amongst them. I feel so lucky, and so at home here. We’ll stay long enough to lose all the hooks on the rocks and make it home in time to cook dinner and sit outside with a beer or two without being bothered by mosquitoes.

In Little Cove there are no street lights and heaps of pythons, so you are not meant to walk alone at night. There have been so many incidents where Dean has almost stepped on one. Yet quite frequently we all insist on walking down to Halse Lodge, the local YHA, for a few happy hour drinks. I will usually have a cheeky cocktail, but beer is cheap at $8 a jug. At the weekends we head to Koala Bar where we can dance on tables.

Heading home we walk back along Main Beach, it is so beautiful and relaxed here. Dean and I are normally in bed by 11, I’ll read some more while he plays Football Manager. Then we’ll stick on a movie or watch ‘The 4400’ but it’s never long before we are cuddled up asleep.

Seven Pounds fails to enrich

Having given away the promised climactic ending - or lack there of - at the very opening, the entire length of the Seven Pounds felt wasted. Yet this is hardly surprising being the work of Italian director, Gabrielle Muccino, who most recently added ‘The Pursuit of Happyness’ to the list of films used as a soporific..

Will Smith plays a lead and saint-seeking role - again - of a man trying to rid of his haunting secret by bestowing life changing gifts to seven chosen people. Who, I hasten to add, he found by impersonating an IRS taxation officer and stealing data. There’s a life lesson, if ever there was one.

Embarking on the mission of a suicidal Will Smith might not seem appealing to everyone, but admittedly his outstanding ability to act as someone so fraught with despair is invaluable.

Luckily for us, the monotony and doom which you so optimistically paid to see, brightens slightly with the appearance of Woody Harrelson, proving once more to be a priceless character - Ezra the ‘blind, vegan, beef salesman’. But it is still heavy going as he is spat at down the phone, cueing the second startlingly emotional moment in the first four minutes.

At times it can be rather falsely tantalising trying to piece together the obscurities that bless this slow moving film into somewhat of a comedy. But if you are able to save yourself from seeing the first 90 seconds you might find Seven Pounds really can pay off, allowing you to see the richness of each actor’s overwhelmingly emotive performance that come with, and only with, brazen naivety.

That said - the narrative which not so cleverly intertwines a love story between Smith and one of his seven preys, Rosario Dawson, is as similar and predictable as every fairytale. Including the part where the – fresh? – prince rescues the beautiful dying maiden.

Ultimately, this movie does provide an admirable performance by Smith alongside unfailing supporting roles, but the generic narrative meant little impact. Then again, what more could we expect?

'My earliest memory'

Growing up in the 1940s meant using World War II blockades as diving boards and suffering diphtheria, for this elderly couple.

Janet Whitehouse, 70, was evacuated from London to Bournemouth during the first years of the Second World War. “I was separated from my sister” she says glumly “But everyone went through it”.

Being a war child meant more than being away from home, as she describes how food was rationed and the way her and her friends used the scaffolding along the coastline to jump into the sea. “We used to get shouted at to get off. It was meant to keep to the Germans from invading, not as our toy. Oh, it was so much fun!”

Janet is celebrating her golden wedding anniversary next year with her husband Roger Whitehouse, 72. They first met at the jazz club on the parade, where Rogers’ parents ‘dragged him along to!’

He has lived in Dorset all his life, growing up along Hamilton Road in Boscombe.

Rogers’ eyes gleam as he remembers his earliest memory, of the struggle he faced fighting diphtheria as a child. “I didn’t expect that kind of pain when I was two, I’ve never experienced anything like it!”

He is undoubtedly a man who has learnt to take things in his stride, saying he felt lucky to survive as “most small children my age didn’t”.

But it wasn’t all tears and tantrums for Roger as he recalls “watching the spitfires fly overhead” spending whole days down at the beach, in such an air of innocence.

Charity jump ends fatally

A light aircraft on the way to a charity parachute jump plummeted into an army firing range, Dorset, killing two men. The Cessna 337 departing from Compton Hills encountered massive problems at 1,500ft in the air, just twelve minutes after take-off.

The pilot Tony Sharman, 40, of New Milton Hampshire was said to have made an emergency call back to his base at the ‘Dorset Parachute Club’ minutes before crash landing.

But tragically, both Tony and his twin brother and co-pilot Dennis went down with the plane.

It crashed only three miles north of their jump scene, in a strictly no fly zone, at Bovington Army Base.

Lieutenant Daltry immediately ceased all firing activities for the day, whilst a military search squad, made up of land rovers, helicopters and fire engines, was sent to scour the 12,000 acres of land for the remaining 4 passengers who were believed to have parachuted out of the plane.

Matt McGrath, 38 of Winchester, Debbie Smith, 37 and Kate Tong, 36 were all found successfully with only minor cuts and bruises, whilst Laura Cameron, 44, suffers a fractured leg.

The owner of Dorset Parachute Club known as ‘Big Mac’ said the parachutists are ‘very close friends and very capable’ with an accumulative of 3,500 jumps between them and is ‘devastated’ by the loss of two heroes.

McGrath believes the cause of the crash was due to an explosion of the back engine during their final briefing, triggering them to spiral towards the ground. He described it ‘like being inside a washing machine’. No black box was on board.

Tony Sharman was able to steady the plane for only a matter of moments, whilst brother Dennis forced them to jump, pulling their rip cords on exit at a mere 500ft. ‘The last thing I heard was Tony shouting at Dennis to jump, but he wouldn’t leave him.We owe our lives to them, they ignored their own existence for us’.

Paramedics and Fire and Rescue services have had to be flown in by helicopters to the scene of the crash, Gallows Hill, due to being in a particularly hazardous and remote area.

Bournemouth Crown Court Report 20/1/09

The trial of a man, charged with two counts of GBH and two counts of perverting the course of justice, continued at Bournemouth Crown Court yesterday.

Mr John S Porter, who is represented by David Jenkins, denies the allegations of the attacks alleged to have been carried out in April 2005 and May 2008.

Porter has been remanded in custody since May last year, where he is claimed to have perverted the course of justice in August and October.

The prosecuting Counsel led by Mr Nicolas Gerasimidis, presented police intelligence officer DC Matt Rockey to provide information.

Rockey told the courtroom, led by Judge Wiggs, that intimidating a witness and using a telephone which has been “plugged”- hidden and brought into prison normally in a body orifice - constitute as perverting the law of justice.

He said that on six separate occasions between May 20 and January 16 Porters’ cell was subject to search by police officers and sniffer dogs with “nil findings on every count”.

Witness Mr Andrew Moyer was called to the stand, saying he was “85% sure” he heard Porter speaking on the phone with Mr Phillip ‘Pip’ Doe on August 10, whilst in remand. He claims Porter said “You gotta try and sort this out, Pip”.

Porter, held in a category B jail, is under scrupulous watch with the approval for his mail and phone calls to be intercepted.

Porter remains in remand at HM Prison in Exeter. The case continues.

Lowering the age of sex education - What do you think?

Sex education for children as young as five is being introduced by the Government from 2010.

The new legislation, announced on 23rd October, mean that children will be taught the basics of anatomy and relationships at least six years earlier than the current guidelines state.

The change, brought about by Britain’s soaring teenage pregnancy rate, has triggered mixed reactions worldwide.

Statistics claim more than four percent of Britain’s pregnancies are from under 18s, suggesting the current systems are failing.

Amy Buckley, 19 year old mum, of Marlow Drive, Brighton said ‘sex education relates to teenage pregnancies because it is badly taught, not because of the age we are taught it’.

This view is shared by Scott Bellamy, 21, Student Vice President of Representation, who believes many schools are reluctant to teach, making the subject ineffective. ‘Teen pregnancy is getting younger’ he said, ‘it’s so alarming because with sex education at 13 it’s too late’.

Nursery Manager Terry Steed, of Shillito Road, Parkstone, thinks that it is not just down to the school.

The mother-of-two said ‘If a parent is a responsible one then they will talk to their child’ and new parent Dr James Palfreman-Kay of Redhill, Bournemouth agreed ‘we will be open [with our son] so he can make highly informed decisions’.

But Anna Dodridge, 27, an Advice and Guidance Representative argued that despite rising peer pressure people aren’t always able to talk to parents.

Lowering the age that Sex Education is introduced into the curriculum aims to eliminate the awkwardness of this topic ‘it shouldn’t be seen as a taboo subject’ says Dr Palfreman-Kay.

At the age of five we cannot underestimate what young children take in. Ann Smith, 44, of Richmond Street, Southampton thinks that a greater awareness would help prevent teen pregnancy.

Tourism Management Student Beki Withey, 18, agreed ‘girls can develop at an early age so they need to be taught’ but her boyfriend Liam Swan, 19, from Aborfield, Reading said ‘ guys don’t need to know as early though, because they don’t have periods’.

Tash Wetherall, 18, a Receptionist at Talbot Medical Centre, thinks that five is too young.

Even though adding the fourth ‘R’, reproduction, to the traditional curriculum of reading, writing and arithmetic, would only mean learning the basic differences between a man and a woman, she would rather ‘preserve their innocence’ adding ‘but I would always tell a boy to treat a girl nicely’.

What makes a good reporter?

John Fullerton covered a dozen wars in 38 Countries whilst working as a Reuters foreign correspondent for twenty years. His high achievements are vast, including many a discovery story about the mistakes, lies and secrets of the US military during the war in Afghanistan.

John regards a good reporter to have an extremely high level of self belief and a lot of drive. ‘Being a journalist will create insecurities, you need sharp elbows and a strong sense of self.’ In his own experience he has come across many scenarios which could have been ‘psychologically damaging’ without these traits, and he follows the motto ‘do not take yourself too seriously’ in the fear that you could lose touch with reality.

In his opinion ‘being culturally open and empathetic’ is key to being successful. He speaks of the ‘absolute ability to adapt swiftly in any circumstance’ from the extremes of culture, hygiene and indeed safety. John also deems unattributed information to be ‘dishonest’ as it can be a tactical way of influencing a reporter, by being either a false lead or providing you with a bias. ‘Discretion is essential’ tells John, and once you attain this ‘you will find accuracy.’ A good story is always honest.

By not attending university, he has learnt skills through trial and error. To ‘smile and be polite’ is stating an obvious, but it is small gestures that go the extra mile earning you up to £70,000 as a correspondent, like John. An essential to becoming a good reporter is to network and build contacts. This encourages trust, honesty and depth to your research. ‘If people know you, they believe they are in safe hands and are more likely to reveal’.

John is now freelancing and writing his seventh novel, whilst studying Buddhism at Sunderland University.

Police shoot dead at St Marks School

A hostage crisis at a Dorset primary school ended with the death of the gunman on police orders.

St Mark’s school, Bournemouth, was immediately evacuated when the gunman ran into the building seeking refuge.

Armed police and medical assistance were sent to St Marks as over an hour long negotiation began.

A class of first grade students and three teachers escaped with minor injuries after being held hostage until 2:35pm, when police were able to compromise for their release.

The man, described as being a white middle-aged male, with a bald head and of medium build, was demanding his wife be at the scene.

Assistant Chief Constable Allan Rose said police were adamant to “resolve the matter peacefully” and the gunman was able to speak to his wife over a radio link at 3:15pm after she was escorted from Dorchester.

Police were “forced to shoot the gunman when he raised his gun in a threatening manor, refusing police commands.” A police surgeon pronounced him dead at the scene, from 17 gun shots.

Eyewitness Ian Rogerson, 58, has a direct view over the school from his second storey window. At 1:15pm he was alerted to the action when one man was chasing another screaming: “Stay away from my wife! I’m going to get you!” He then shot the victim in his behind, who dived into a bush for safety. The area between Kinson Road and the University Roundabout was closed as soon as police arrived at the scene.

Mr Rogerson saw pupils “running from the school screaming and looking very upset”. They were taken to Bournemouth University where they were checked by paramedics as a precaution and safely reunited with their parents.

Dorset Police wish to reassure the public that “their intention is to preserve lives”. There will be a further inquest by the home office.

Not all buskers are on the breadline

Buskers are earning up to £300 a week on the streets of Bournemouth, despite the credit crunch.

Gone, is the stigma attached to street entertainers to “get a real job” as many see the advantages during financial crisis.

Now largely seen as an acceptable way of sole earning, busking has even boomed the careers of James Morrison and Angus & Julia Stone.

Dave Young, 29, of Bournemouth busks in the high street 2-3 times a week, alongside his full time job as a delivery driver.

He says “I’ll go home when I have around $45”.

Although the 3 hours Dave busks for might be considered anti-social, he insists he has “a great time singing along with everybody whilst earning some much needed money.”

If the trend continues, it could be that quality street entertainment becomes the temporary remedy of ‘the new-age great depression’ descending upon us.

It’s not only performers who are benefitting from the music, but the public now have a means “to change the colour of their day” says Cathy Levins, organiser of Australia’s “Busk-Off”.

The organisation brings together the best buskers from Sydney to battle it out for busking permits and even a brand new guitar.

A group nicknamed ‘The Street’ is widely becoming a favourite, formed by the homeless in the Byron Bay area.

Gathering an audience might be easy for them, but earning as much as Dave seems more of a task.

For many, busking is still about survival.