Married for 10 years and sat with their grown daughters, Mary Kay Letourneau and Vili Fualaau smiled as they recounted their ‘extraordinary’ relationship, in a 2015 widely-watched exclusive with American TV titan Barbara Walters. 

However, the couple’s relationship was extraordinary for all the wrong reasons.

They had become close when Vili was just 12, and Mary Kay, then in her thirties, was his teacher. Within months they had embarked on a sexual relationship.

As news of the Washington state-based sexual abuse scandal shocked the globe, people were left reeling at the thought that a 34-year-old, middle-class, married mother-of-four was capable of committing such a horrific crime.

Yet despite Mary Kay going to jail for second-degree child rape – and giving birth behind bars – the couple steadfastly refused to give up on their relationship.

Now the family – and their story – are back in the news again, after the couple’s youngest daughter, Georgia, has posted on Instagram about expecting a baby boy in January.

Vili, 40, who had a third daughter, Sophia, in 2022, is set to become a grandparent for the first time – but without Mary Kay by his side. 

Rewind to September 1996. A 12-year-old Vili entered his sixth-grade classroom at Shorewood Elementary School in Washington, settling in for a year of learning. He recongised Mary Kay, as she had also taught him in second grade, when he was just eight. 

‘There was a respect, an insight, a spirit, and understanding between us that grew over time,’ she told The Seattle Times in July 1997, as she recalled that first time teaching him. ‘It was the kind of feeling you have with a brother or sister – a feeling that they’re part of your life forever.’

As she once again tutored Vili four years later, Mary Kay clocked that the boy was a gifted artist, and began spending time with him outside of the classroom to develop his skills. Vili even visited her home, becoming friendly with Mary Kay’s husband Steve and four children. He became especially close with her eldest son, Steven Jr., who was only a year younger than him. 

When the school year ended, the teacher and student had gone to dinner when the pair first had sex, even though in a book the pair authored, Mary Kay wrote she had ‘promised’ herself ‘it’ wouldn’t happen before her divorce with then-husband Steve. 

‘The incident was late at night, and it didn’t stop with a kiss,’ Mary Kay told Walters in the 2015 interview. ‘And I thought that it would, and it didn’t.’

That same summer, police discovered Vili and Mary Kay in a minvan. Vili quickly lied to the police, saying he was 18. Although taken to the police station, they both were released after claiming there was no improper conduct. 

Mary Kay later described their connection as a ‘million moments that just kept building something very beautiful and scary at the same time’ in a 2004 interview with Laury King. 

In the autumn of 1996, Mary Kay found out she was pregnant with the schoolboy’s baby. 

Mary Kay broke the news of her pregnancy to her best friend, Michelle Lobdell on the phone. ‘I have some news and this is difficult,’ she told her friend. ‘I’m pregnant and it’s not Steve’s.’

Lobdell said in an interview with the New York Post that it ‘was a shocking moment’ and that Mary Kay made it out that the father was a college-aged student. ‘She didn’t tell me he was 12.’

Steve Letourneau, Mary Kay’s then-husband was rifling through papers in early 1997 when he found love letters between his wife and her student. Confronting the teenager over them, he threatened to tell Vili’s family about their sordid relationship if he didn’t end it.

‘The fear of my mom’s reaction and the thought of everyone being affected by it was one of my biggest fears, so I said, for the better of everyone, OK. It was kind of devastating,’ recalled Vili in a 2018 interview.

However, it was too late, as just a few weeks later on 4 March, Mary Kay was arrested for second-degree child rape after a tip from a relative of Steve’s.

She was released on bail and went on to have her daughter Audrey in May 1997. 

At her trial three months after the birth, Mary Kay pled guilty to child rape in exchange for a three-month jail sentence and probation. 

‘It was wrong, and I am sorry,’ she said in the hearing. ‘I give you my word it will not happen again.’

Her request was approved, with the condition Mary Kay had no further contact with Vili, who always claimed that the relationship was consensual and continuously maintained he wasn’t a victim. ‘I’m not ashamed of being in love with Mary Kay,’ he told Inside Edition in 1999. 

But her vow to leave the teen alone was shortlived, when Mary Kay and Vili were found again in a car soon after her release – this time with over $6,000 in cash, baby clothes, and her passport, leading authorities to believe they were planning to leave the country. 

Mary Kay was brought back to court, by then pregnant for a second time with Vili’s baby from her brief stint out of prison, for her breach of parole and told by the judge she had been given an opportunity that she ‘foolishly squandered.’

She was sentenced to seven and a half years in Washington Correction Centre for Women, during which time she would give birth to her youngest daughter behind bars and get a divorce from her husband. 

Both daughters were in the custody of Vili’s mother, Soona, while Mary Kay finished her sentence. 

Even though Soona blamed Mary Kay for ruining her son’s life, she tearfully said when testifying in the 2002 case that she couldn’t hate the former teacher. 

‘What happened was morally wrong,’ she told the court. ‘She was married, and this was a teenage boy. I’ve lost my son. I lost my sweet little boy who could draw. I knew he would grow up, and he wouldn’t be my little boy, but I didn’t know I’d lose him at 12.’

‘I can’t say I hate Mary,’ she continued. ‘Just a couple of weeks ago, my granddaughter turned around to me and asked, “Do you love my Mary mommy grandma?” And I’m supposed to tell her yeah.’

While Mary Kay was in prison, Vili talked openly in his Walters interview about how he went ‘through a really dark time,’ battling depression for years in the wake of Mary Kay’s imprisonment. 

‘I’m surprised I’m still alive today,’ he said in the exclusive chat. ‘My friends couldn’t help me because they had no idea what it was like to be a parent, I mean, because we were all 14, 15.’

In August 2004, Mary Kay was released from prison and Vili filed a motion in court requesting a reversal of the no-contact order against Mary Kay.

It was granted, and 10 months later, they were married in a lavish ceremony with 250 friends and family at a winery in Washington. Vili was 21 years old.

For 10 years, the couple lived together in Seattle – Vili working as a DJ and Mary Kay as a legal assistant – while raising their two girls.

But in 2017, Vili filed for a legal separation, supposedly due to his desire to start a marijuana business. 

‘It’s not necessarily what you think,’ he told Radar Online. ‘When you want to get licensed, they do background checks on both parties. If I decide to be a part of it, I have to be licensed, and I have to be vetted, and so does a spouse. She has a past. She has a history.’

However, a source close to Mary Kay told People magazine a different story, about how the couple had multiple discussions over where things were going.

‘She really tried everything she could think of, but she just wasn’t able to work it out,’ the source said. ‘She loves him, she knows he loves her, but it really seems like it has run its course.’

Although the couple eventually divorced in 2019, Mary Kay would end up spending her last weeks with her ex-husband after she was diagnosed with colon cancer and ‘reached out’ to him via text in 2020.

‘Vili, to his credit, when he found out about [her illness], and then especially the last couple of months, he moved back from California and he gave her 24/7 care, literally all the way to the end,’ said David Gehrke, who represented Letourneau throughout her trial, in an interview with KIRO radio.

In July 2020, Mary Kay passed away, but in the lead up to her death, she had allegedly penned dozens of letters to atone for her actions.

‘The bottom line was that she understood on a very deep level that she had really made a mess of her life and the lives of many other people back in 1996,’ one friend told People.

‘She realised that even though things turned out relatively good, that she was responsible for a wide swath of destruction by her actions.’

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Claie.Wilson@metro.co.uk 

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Whatever you call them – rubbers, Johnnies, or even a French letter if you’re being super-fancy – you’ve probably used them.

While over the years we’ve seen a huge shift in attitudes to condoms, from being shunned in the 70s to considered cool (for the majority of us) by the noughties, they’re something that is now used without hesitation. Well, most of the time.

But what’s seen them turn into such a must-have item, that even Kendrick Lamar acknowledged a shift in perception in his Money Trees lyrics, rapping: ‘Back when condom wrappers wasn’t cool’.

It was in 1855 that we were introduce to the first phophylactic, which was made from rubber as thick as a bicycle inner tube and custom made. Fast forward nearly 170 years and Durex – a brand that occupies 40% of the global condom market, worth $4.6bn – are set to deliver their ‘thinnest’ ever condoms called Nude, to ‘maximise sensation’, this year.

However, it’s a metamorphosis has been a long time coming (puns aside) – and one involving a global health crisis, accidental pregnancies, demand for better options… not forgetting the ongoing pleasure debate.

Ben Wilson, sexual wellbeing director at Reckitt, home to Durex, says that although there’s still taboo surrounding condoms, it’s only been in the last three decades that significant progress has been made.

‘We’ve always tried to break the stigma around condoms, such as people feel they can’t have the conversation around safe sex, an embarrassment of buying condoms, and the ever-old challenge around condoms “reducing pleasure”,’ he tells Metro.co.uk.

These days though, he adds, users are ‘thinking about a condom as part of a larger sexual occasion, versus just the moment of penetration’ and says that condoms ‘remove the anxiety’ of unplanned pregnancy and contracting an STI or STD.

From Ben’s perspective, marketing has played a huge role in getting people on board with using them.

‘In the 1970s, we were sponsoring Formula 1 and lots of motorsports, because there was a young male demographic watching these things at the time. In the 1990s we were doing work with MTV, which also attracted young people,’ he explains.

‘Durex has a huge history, but during World War 2, the supply of condoms from the US and Germany dried up, so Durex as a British company became the key player in the market. However, it was only in the 1990s condom usage became “normal” and widespread.

‘Culture and wider society issues have had an impact too. The AIDS crisis of the 1980s was a huge driver for the benefits of condoms.’

While censorship stopped conversations from breaking down stigma, some ad companies worked hard to get their product message across.

For example, back in 2010, advertising condoms was forbidden in France. However, one French non-profit, supporting those with HIV and AIDS called Aides, decided to create an advert showing graffiti drawings of genitalia enjoying sex with a condom.

Despite it going against guidelines, the short video was given the green light, paving the way for future condom advertising.

Usage is a whole other beast though, and the reasons people personally choose to go with and without condoms wildly vary.

A study among homosexual men found common reasons for not using one included being in a steady relationship (32.8%), being unprepared (19.4%), and not being bothered (19.4%).

Meanwhile, other research has looked into being pressured by men, especially as a woman, to forgo condom use.

Tricia Wise, is a safe sex influencer who goes by the name Safe Slut. She tells Metro.co.uk that although she always prefers to use condoms, there were times in the past when she felt pressured to go without – that was until she contracted genital herpes (HSV2) in November 2019.

‘I liked to practice safe sex when I could, but I was also very afraid of advocating for myself,’ Tricia, 29, explains. ‘So if I was with people who were making a big deal about wearing a condom I’d say it was fine to go without, but then feel anxious and get tested afterwards.

‘Condoms have always been my preferred method of contraception.

‘Now that I have herpes, I’m an even bigger fan of safer sex, but with herpes, condoms aren’t 100% effective. It can help reduce the risk, but herpes is transferred skin to skin, not fluid, so as the condom isn’t covering your entire genital area, it can spread.’

For Tricia, communication is key when practicing safe sex.

‘I ask my partner when they’ve been tested and what those results look like, then I share my status, then we decide what we want to do,’ she explains.

‘My main thing when I’m going to have the disclosure conversation is I don’t do it in the moment, I do it before when clothes are still on.

‘I always start by asking them about their sexual health, because as well as using condoms to lessen the risk of spreading herpes, I’m doing it to protect myself from them too.

‘The response is always telling – if they say they don’t get tested or use stigmatising language, that’s a turn off for me.’

For casual one night stands, condoms are ‘not even a question’ for Tricia, who adds that she’s never had any bad responses when revealing she has HSV – either they ask for more information, or already are clued up.

The evolution of condoms

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The evolution of condoms

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James* was another who had his contraception choice shaped by personal experience.

Never a ‘one-night stand kind of guy’, he says condoms just weren’t a subject he’d discuss with friends – and are still something he feels self-conscious talking about, which is why he didn’t want to share his identity.

Although James admits he wasn’t initially a fan of the contraception, the 27-year-old now swears by them.

‘When I got comfortable with a new partner, I used to do the pullout method,’ he explains, adding that he felt like he could trust them to be truthful about STIs or or get tested.

‘The emotion in the moment would take over, and even though I knew the method is risky, I didn’t really care – until I experienced a pregnancy scare.

‘My partner was told she was pregnant at a hospital when she went to A&E in pain. But then 10 minutes later, they told her it was a mistake and she wasn’t.

‘It was a huge shock to the system,’ admits James. ‘So now I use condoms, because I have a primal fear that if I become a dad, I will be absolutely f****d.’

Being diagnosed with gonorrhea was a massive wake up call for Emma*, who doesn’t want to be identified for fear of stigma still surrounding the STI.

She says she chose not to use condoms as she preferred the sensation without them and found the act of putting one on mid-foreplay a ‘mood kill’.

‘There was never an active decision not to use condoms, it was more that I would get caught up in the heat of the moment and go without, because I was on another form of contraception (either the pill or implant),’ Emma explains.

‘I put STIs to the back of mind – even though I knew that was stupid. Then someone I’d slept with informed me he had gonorrhea. It was hugely embarrassing, from telling past partners so they could be checked to having to take time out of work to visit the clinic for treatment.

‘It was also a massive wake-up call, however, and made me realise that the real mood-killer is contracting the clap.’

Now in a long term relationship, Emma uses condoms every time they’re intimate due to side effects with hormonal contraception.

‘While rootling around in a drawer for a condom mid-way through foreplay isn’t the sexiest thing in the world, it’s far better than an unplanned pregnancy,’ she adds.

‘If I was single, I’d insist on using a condom and it’d be a deal breaker for me to be met with resistance. After all, I learned of the consequences of avoiding condoms the hard way.’

Not all sexual health concerns can be avoided with condoms, however.

Aside from the health perspective, even with perfect use, two in every 100 people will have unintended pregnancy each year, while ‘typical use’, according to the NHS, sees 12 in every 100.

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be using them, as no form of contraception is perfect, but it does point to the difference they can make if used properly.

Currently in the UK, gonorrhoea cases jumped by over 50% between 2021 and 2022, it’s the highest number of diagnoses made in a year since records began in 1918.

For all of the progress made to make condom use common practice, there’s still work to be done evidently.

Though it’s worth noting that other forms of protection have been widely advocated for, too. Among gay men, the use of PrEP – HIV prevention medication – is also popular and might inadvertently reduce condom reliance.

Lisa Hallgarten, head of policy and public affairs at Brook, a sexual health charity, tells Metro.co.uk: ‘The high level of gonorrhoea clearly tells us that there is insufficient condom use.

‘This is also reflected in what we are seeing in our own clinics, where over the past four years the number of people saying they do not use condoms has increased by over 10%.

‘It is vital that the effective promotion of testing and treatment for STIs is matched by stronger messages about prevention and the need for consistent condom use.  

‘Sexual health services are already stretched to breaking point with a huge rise in demand for services alongside many years of cuts to funding. Additional investment needs to be provided for national and local schemes to promote and provide condoms.’

There can be a generational divide too, in terms of attitudes to condoms.

Mark*, who is in his late 30s, has gone through phases of irregular condom use in the past due to feeling less anxious about catching STIs, and enjoying periods of hedonistic sex.

He previously worked as a fitness model and went to sex parties in his 30s, during a time he describes as being ‘high on testosterone’.

Although the sex party scene always advocates for the use of condoms, Mark didn’t always use them. One ocassion he remembers was during a threesome with men and women, where he says he got caught up in the moment and, in his words, wanted to ‘spread his seed’.

Now, he tells Metro.co.uk he wouldn’t run the risk as you ‘just can’t know’ if someone is healthy or taking birth control properly.

‘We’re descended from apes, and condoms aren’t natural – it’s a fact of life – but I’m absolutely pro-condoms,’ he says.

‘I came out of my old phase due to loss and grief within my family. It made me change my lifestyle.’

And as popularity and demand for condoms continues to grow, some makers have been thinking outside the box in a bid to make their’s the go-to brand.

Roam offers skin tone condoms in a range of shades, to ‘celebrate individuality’ as they put it online; then there are ultra-thin condoms from brands like Skyn to combat the pleasure issue; while others such as Hanx, who are meeting the needs of vegans and the chemically conscious. Environmentally friendly options are also offered by XO! whose products carbon neutral and biodegrade in a year.

However, we still haven’t reached condom perfection says Ben, who thinks there’s more innovation to come – and the more skin-like they feel, the better in terms of uptake.

‘I think condoms that deliver the most pleasure are going to be the winners, because ultimately the constant battle for us is how to deliver more pleasure,’ he explains.

‘That could be in how thin or transparent it is, how it smells, or what materials and lubrication is used. All those sensorial elements.’

‘Protection and pleasure together,’ he adds. Which is ultimately all anyone could want from a condom.

Sexual Health Awareness Week runs from 11-17 September, for more information click here.

*Names have been changed.

Do you have a story to share?

Get in touch by emailing MetroLifestyleTeam@Metro.co.uk.

But it wasn’t.  

By the time Dilly was a teenager and attending secondary school, she was desperately begging her mother not to send her in and often arriving at the school gates late and in a visibly distressed state. 

‘It’s awful feeling like you literally have to try and drag your child somewhere, where they don’t want to be,’ remembers Lara.

However, Dilly’s fears weren’t borne from being a target for school bullies or because she hadn’t completed homework. She simply didn’t want to be at school – and she’s one of a growing number of children who find it hard or even impossible to attend a formal education setting. 

Since the coronavirus lockdowns, persistent absenteeism is up 117%, equating to nearly a quarter of of all pupils in primary, secondary and special state schools – or 1,615,772 pupils. 

But this is hardly a new phenomenon, as Ellie Costello, executive director of the social enterprise Squarepeg, explains. 

The organisation advocates for children who struggle to attend school, working in partnership with the parent/carer led organisation Not Fine in School, which was set up in November 2018 to raise awareness of the barriers to school attendance and empower families impacted by them. 

In just five years membership for Not Fine in School has grown to 43,000 people, whose children have found mainstream school attendance a struggle whether it’s down to unmet special education needs and disabilities, physical or mental illness, bullying and assault, or trauma.

Some have also cited excessive academic pressure, overly strict behaviour policies, an irrelevant curriculum and children missing sense of belonging. 

‘No one wanted to talk about it, but then Covid legitimised the attendance conversation,’ Ellie explains. 

‘There is a lot of disaffection bubbling away. An ever-increasing number of children and young people are developing high levels of anxiety – be it performance-related, socially, or because they can’t cope with the environment. Under this government, attainment and progress from the age of four onwards is monitored in a way that is excessive. It prioritises a certain type of learning. Quite simply, more and more kids just aren’t ticking that box.’

Recalling how one schoolgirl told her that walking through the school gates felt like wading through vicious, sharp ice, Ellie adds: ‘These aren’t snowflake kids, that’s a misconception. Young people now have so much more to cope with – from the threat of climate collapse to Instagram perfection – and they have to be so much more resilient. 

‘We’ve never recovered from the cuts to education, which were announced in 2010 and implemented under austerity. We were sold the idea that if we just get tough on discipline, and establish high aspirations, everything else will follow. But you can’t have it both ways. You either want a child in the classroom and engaged in learning, or you will put them in isolation all day for wearing the wrong shoe laces.’

Dilly is now 14 and admits she has always struggled with attending school. 

‘I’ve never liked it,’ she tells Metro.co.uk. ‘It’s about the system. When I have to go into school, I feel overwhelmed and stressed. I tend to catastrophise a lot.’

As someone who is autistic and dyslexic, Dilly is an ambassador for The Multi Schools Council which challenges perceptions of difference, and the negative stigma shown towards children with special educational needs and disability (SEND) and mental health difficulties. 

‘Dilly struggled all the way through primary school, and now finds secondary school challenging as well,’ explains her mum, Lara. ‘She can get tearful and stressed the evening before school, and then in the morning as well. Often she’ll be late and will need a lot of reassurance from staff, who have often met her at the door. Even if she has a good day, she will be so exhausted by attending school that she is unable to do homework or enjoy social activities afterwards.  

‘Recently, during exam week, she became so overwhelmed with the pressure that she couldn’t go in. But once she felt calmer at home, she was able to sit her maths test under timed conditions, unprompted by anyone. I was really surprised as maths is her least favourite subject and greatest challenge. It shows how genuine her struggle is.’

Lara adds that school staff are often very well meaning with children who might experience anxiety about coming to school, ‘but they don’t often fully understand what kind of consistent approach would be helpful,’ she says. 

‘The problem is a lack of resources and training. Teaching staff do want to do the right thing, but there are lots of demands on them, and everyone within the whole school environment seems to be under a lot of pressure. It’s often children who are autistic, or neurodivergent, who can’t cope. Autistic children are so much more sensitive to noises, feelings, and the atmosphere. Everything is amplified for them.’

Child clinical psychologist Dr Selina Warlow runs The Nook Therapy clinic, in Farnham, Surrey, and regularly works with clients experiencing school avoidance, specifically those with Autism and ADHD. 

‘Schools are certainly not to blame for school avoidance because sometimes it is not always clear what each child needs,’ she explains. ‘I have had many children with ASD explain how even changing the seating around in the classroom can be very stressful for them. School can then go from feeling predictable to feeling full of uncertainty, which can lead to anxiety. In addition, children with ASD can have difficulties with social interactions and having to walk into a class of 30 children everyday can feel very daunting.

‘For children with ADHD some of the challenges can be that they are expected to remain seated or maintain concentration throughout their lessons, but they may need to move or fidget. At times their hyperactivity, impulsivity and/or inattention can be misinterpreted as them being defiant or naughty, and this can begin to impact on a child’s self-esteem.’

Dr Warlow believes that despite schools being more adaptive, individualised support is still needed, ideally in collaboration with healthcare professionals. 

‘Many of these children thrive at school,’ she adds. ‘They may think outside the box, be brilliant artists, sports men/women, or have a unique ability to hyperfocus on certain topics. The list of strengths is endless. These are the young people that I believe will change the world, with the right support and by nurturing their strengths.’

Dr Warlow adds that since covid it has been difficult to get some children back in the classroom, while at the start of the pandemic, Dr Gavin Morgan – an educational psychologist at University College London – warned the government that school closures would lead to mental health ramifications amongst children and young people. 

‘It gave permission for some children not to attend school, because suddenly school seemed to be an option, and there was some kind of choice involved,’ he explains. ‘Especially for children who were already at risk of school avoidance, they just thought, I don’t have to go anymore.

‘For most kids, most of the time, school is the best place for them. But for some children, school is difficult, and it is anxiety-inducing. One size never fits all.’

Dr Morgan believes there are increasing reasons why school avoidance seems to be affecting more children. 

‘We can’t separate children from families and wider society. They get impacted by parental pressures, and families are finding life hard at the moment due to the cost of living crisis. It’s just tough for everyone. There’s lots of increased pressures on kids,’ he says.  

Of course, school closures were just one of many changes which children lived through during Covid-19. 

After surveying more than 6000 parents in England, new research from the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) and the UCL Institute of Education has found that almost half believe their child’s emotional development suffered as a result of the pandemic. 

Children whose parents experienced job instability, compared to their pre-Covid employment situation, were more likely to be affected. However, Dr Morgan adds that the situation is increasingly tough for teaching staff too. 

‘We expect a lot from teachers, more so than we have ever done before,’ he says. ‘Teachers aren’t just single subject teachers any more, they have a hugely complicated role nowadays.

‘Everything should start with the school providing support – and not punishment. There needs to be a whole school approach to talking about and dealing with these issues, and then targeted support for individual children and their families.’

This is something which Dilly has benefitted from, after moving to a school which was open to understanding her difficulties. 

‘We can phone them in the morning, and say she’s having a hard day and struggling to come in, and they’re able to suggest ways to help, and we know we won’t get fined. It takes that pressure off,’ admits mum, Lara. 

‘When she’s not able to come in, they’ve sent a test home for her, or they just accept the fact she will be a bit late that day… even so, on many days she still feels completely burnt out and can’t face going in. 

‘Like all other parents, we want our child to achieve – we know she is capable and we want her to do her best. But there shouldn’t be a blanket response – the majority of families just need help and support, which is not there.’

Parentkind is a national charity which gives those with a parenting role a voice in education.

It believes mental health workers should be embedded within schools, and has allied itself to Citizen UK’s national campaign to ask policymakers to make this a reality. 

‘Parental concerns over their child’s mental wellbeing remain high,’ Parentkind’s Chief Executive Jason Elsom tells Metro.co.uk. 

‘Partial school closures and the cancellation of exams during the pandemic eased the pressure for some pupils, but the return to normality after major disruption to their lives has proved a set-back for many, and this is likely to be a driving factor behind high school absence rates.

‘Our Parent Voice Report revealed that parents of children eligible for free school meals or with special educational needs and disabilities were much likelier to report concerns over their child’s wellbeing, indicating that the issue is more pressing and serious for too many of the most vulnerable and disadvantaged young people.’

For some families, home education is a better option. 

Munira Adenwalla, 48, believes children’s school avoidance is typically rooted in issues around a child’s mental health and emotional wellbeing – and has taken the decision to home educate her 11-year-old son Mohammed.

The mum of one noticed how he explored and learned best through movement, physical activity and hands-on experiences – and Mohammed now benefits from gymnastics, swimming, water sports, creative crafting, using technology, computer programming and meeting others in his community. 

‘As parents, we wanted him to learn based on his own interests, pace, and through his own learning style,’ Munira explains. ‘This was not a difficult decision at all. I believe parents have a strong intuition or gut instinct of what is best for their child. 

‘It’s a big myth that home educated kids miss out on socialisation. There are many groups and communities of home education families so our children get to mix. I love that my son can figure out how to play gently with toddlers, be looked up to by younger children as the fun older kid, play with same aged kids, learn from older children, and chat with their parents too.

‘The reality is home educated kids have a big variety of social opportunities and the choice for quiet or home days if they want or need it.’

Munira adds that she would love for teachers to get more training and support from professionals to understand and accommodate children whose brains are wired differently, and for schools to have all the resources they need to support all children in their own unique ways of learning.

‘By forcing kids to go back to school we are then giving them a message not to listen to their own bodies or minds when they feel uncomfortable, unsafe, or distressed,’ she warns. ‘That they just have to deal with all of this. This isn’t right. 

‘Imagine if this was a job, would you call it ‘work refusal?’ You’d probably talk to your boss, try to work things out, and then quit if it didn’t go smoothly. 

‘That’s just what school refusal is.’

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But it wasn’t just about dusting herself off and moving on. She wanted more. A new job, a new home… a new country. 

However, as a 35-year-old with a four-bed house and a mortgage, not to mention an already pretty fulfilling career and good social life, she couldn’t help feeling like she was chasing an impossible dream. 

That was until Kirsten happened to have a chat with a senior colleague at the sports retail company she’d worked for as the associate marketing manager the last five years. 

It turned out that there was an opportunity to head up the business’s marketing team 4,000 miles away in Dubai. The rest, she says, is history. 

‘I didn’t hesitate to say yes,’ Kirsten tells Metro.co.uk. ‘While I loved my job and the people I worked with, I knew this new chance had the potential to project me further in my career than I could ever have expected.’

With UK Google searches for ‘move abroad’ up by 1000% in 2022 – the highest level in internet history – 90,000 British citizens made the move overseas for work last year. 

While most were in the 25-44 age group according to research from Radical Storage, women were the gender more likely to make the leap – with 45% saying they would like to work abroad compared to 39% of men. 

Giving insight into the growing trend of women moving abroad for work, careers expert Victoria McLean tells Metro.co.uk: ‘Twenty or so years ago, women didn’t have the access to education or professional development that they have now. As this has changed, it’s enabled more women to seek careers and career progression in another country.’

While moving overseas provided Kirsten with the chance she needed to start over, it wasn’t a seamless process, she admits. Leaving family and friends behind was difficult, for a start.

‘My parents know I am very headstrong and determined but I think they might have hoped there was only a small chance it would end up happening,’ she remembers. ‘It all became very real when they dropped me off at the airport – there were tears.

‘Some of my friends were sad to see me go and others understood why I wanted to. However, they were all excited about having a new holiday destination and a reason to leave their kids at home for a girls’ trip.’

Kirsten also admits that she didn’t really give herself much time to process her feelings. ‘I guess I took the steps to move without really thinking about it until I got to Dubai,’ she says. 

‘An old school friend of mine was out there with his wife and stepdaughter, so this provided me with a safety blanket because I had someone who I could ask questions about the process.’

Kirsten, who remained in a head of marketing role, admits that it did take time to adjust in Dubai because she was used to working in fast-paced environments and the processes there were slower than she expected. However, reflecting on her journey so far, she says; ‘Planning my life hadn’t really worked out as I thought it would, so I owed it to myself to see how this opportunity went.’

Research has also found that taking a career overseas tends to benefit women more than men, with HSBC’s Expat Explorer Survey revealing that the average female expat’s income increases by around 27%, compared to 23% for men. Kirsten agrees, saying she is much better off financially since moving to Dubai.  Her salary has increased by roughly 2.5 times before tax (and therefore more, as Dubai has no income tax).

‘You do have to bear in mind that the cost of living is much higher here and there are other costs to factor in regardless of having no income tax,’ she adds.

However, Kirsten also points out that she doesn’t think she would be able to find a similar job in the UK on the salary she is currently on. ‘The cost of living has increased dramatically, which is one of the reasons why I’m not ready to move back to the UK just yet.’

While there’s no doubt the move has given her career success, Kirsten says it has impacted her social life. She finds it difficult to keep in touch with friends in the UK, and when she makes plans to visit her home county of Devon, she also has to factor in stops for London, Newcastle and Manchester, where she also has connections. ‘It isn’t easy because that’s when it starts to feel like less of a holiday,’ she explains. ‘To add to that, I feel so guilty when I don’t manage it all.’

And although Kirsten has been able to make friends outside of work in Dubai, she says that romantic relationships have been ‘the most challenging aspect’ and ‘something she is yet to conquer with any kind of success’. 

‘I guess we can’t have it all,’ she shrugs.

Georgia Austin, 26, tells Metro.co.uk that she was working 40 hours a week as a copywriter at Sweaty Betty before deciding to go freelance. Although she loved her job, she wanted more control of her career.

After launching a freelance copywriting business and taking on a freelance LinkedIn networking role with a US-based market research firm as a ‘connector’ – offering professionals in an assigned industry and market on the site money to complete a 10 minute survey – she decided to take the plunge and go freelance full-time. But in Brazil, over 5,000 miles from where she grew up in Buckinghamshire and Berkshire.

‘With the money I was earning as a freelancer, I knew that one reliable client was all I needed to pay my living expenses. I immediately booked my flight to Brazil – a decision that, little to my knowledge, precluded the global pandemic,’ she says. 

Before deciding to move abroad, Georgia viewed her career as an exploration. She had a passion for writing and making money online. ‘I grew up as a bookworm and wrote short stories as a kid,’ she explains ‘I’ve always loved words and after landing my role at Sweaty Betty and writing for other sportswear brands, I knew I could monetise my passion,’ she says. 

Once Georgia realised that companies needed freelancers like her, it became even easier for her to make money online during the pandemic. She created an account on Fiverr, an online platform where freelancers can market themselves, and she soon was inundated with work. ‘It was spontaneous and life-altering – I never expected that things would change forever,’ she says.

But why Brazil? Having visited the country a few times, Georgia says she felt like it was the right fit for her. On one of her visits, she taught English in Rocinha (South America’s largest favela) during the Paralympics. During this time, she had already begun to build a strong network of friends and connections – including her future husband’s family. 

‘I met my husband in the first week of arriving in Brazil, at the carnival. There was a two-hour queue to get in and we almost left the line due to boredom. Then we met inside and started talking,’ recalls Georgia.

And while others might have felt nervous about packing up and moving to a different continent, Georgia insists it was a breeze. ‘It felt like a puzzle piece fitting right into its spot,’ she insists.’ If I could live and work anywhere in the world, why would I stay in the UK where taxes are high and my money wouldn’t go very far?’

Since the move, Georgia has worked hard, scaling the freelance business she set up a few years ago to generate $2.1million in total revenue in just over two years. ‘I had the business model down and a great service offering, so I took things to new heights by onboarding industry experts to help fulfil demand, which ultimately tripled my earnings each month,’ she says.

Now, following the success of her agency, Georgia has founded a spin off company and bought a home in Florida. ‘My long-term plan is to scale and sell my company then settle down in the US while spending a few months each year travelling around the world. Although I don’t foresee a permanent return to the UK, I will always cherish the relationships and experiences I’ve had there,’ she says.

Victoria McLean, CEO and Founder of Career Consultancy City CV, adds that she believes the pandemic has had a part to play in the rising number of female expats. 

‘COVID-19 gave us better professional mobility. When you have the option of working from anywhere in the world, it’s easier to move abroad or work for companies that are based anywhere in the world,’ she explains.

‘Women have long asked for better flexibility and I think it took a global pandemic to deliver this. Over the past few years, there has been an increase of opportunities in female-led industries, like healthcare for example.’

When Sarah-Jane McQueen had the idea of moving from Croydon to Australia for work floated to her by a colleague, the first thing she did was discuss the move with her long-term boyfriend, who had always lived in London. ‘We then went through the process of applying for our visa. Due to the backlog from Covid, it took about six months for our entry to be granted,’ she tells Metro.co.uk.

As the visa took a long time to arrive, Sarah-Jane admits there was a lot of time to question the move, with many nights spent weighing up the cons of thinking what could go wrong. ‘We didn’t want the opportunity passing us by. We got through it together with a pact that if we were miserable after six months, we would come back home to London.’ 

However, while she hired a relocation consultant to help with the logistics, Sarah-Jane, who is now a COO of education marketing company CoursesOnline, knew that making the move wasn’t just about her and her partner. She had to think of her eight-year-old daughter too.

Having only ever lived in their family home, she says her little girl struggled with such a big move. 

‘Once we started sharing where we were going and involving her in finding our new house, she started to get excited,’ remembers Sarah-Jane, 42. However, once moved, reality hit and it was hard for the family to see her go from being the popular girl in school in the UK to being an outsider. 

Sarah-Jane admits that seeing her child being excluded from birthday parties and play dates was heartbreaking. 

‘We did have a few incidents on the playground at school because she got angry or lashed out, which is why we enrolled her in other activities outside school like swimming and yoga,’ she explains. ‘I had mum guilt, but over time she’s found her place. Almost a year in and she’s the happiest I have ever seen her.’

With a relocation package that also enabled Sarah-Jane and her family to turn their London home into an investment rental property, it’s safe to say they’re financially better off. Another bonus is that the income taxes and other taxes are better off in Australia (UK contribution is 4% whereas Australia is 11%).

Even so, Sarah-Jane admits to FOMO when she sees pictures of her friends during nights out or events. ‘Not seeing my family all the time is difficult, but I do my best to make it work,’ she says. 

It’s also been hard as her grandmother had a stroke 18 months ago, and she admits not being as close to her as she’d like, is her only regret about the move. Other than that, Sarah-Jane describes her journey as a ‘wild adventure’, adding ‘We’re closer than ever as a family unit and my career has gone from strength to strength.’

According to Victoria McLean, while this trend for Brits to move abroad for work looks set to continue, there are some serious negatives that go beyond FOMO and feeling homesick. 

‘While a move abroad might be a real career boost for women, there might also be a knock on effect of reduced gender diversity in the UK with the hardest impact felt at senior level,’ she explains. 

‘There are a number of ways this trend could impact the UK labour force but the most important is probably “brain drain” or the loss of education and skills.’

To counteract any potential critical drain on talent in the UK, Ray’n Terry, HR Director at Totaljobs advises that British employers ‘evaluate their offering for international workers and how they can compete on a global scale. 

‘Whether that’s giving workers greater flexibility to work anywhere they want in the world or developing relocation packages that highlight the quality of living aspects of your location,’ she explains.

As for Sarah-Jane’s plans, she and her family expect to stay in Australia until their visa is up in 2026. They also have a pathway to permanent residency – a process they can start next year. 

‘Moving back to the UK will be likely when our parents need us to help look after them,’ she explains. 

‘At the moment, we’re just taking each month as it comes. Because at the moment, everything is great where we are.’ 

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Tracey McLaughlin is talking about the time she took a summer job, along with hundreds of other New Jersey teens, at one of the biggest theme parks in America during the eighties.

‘I was a lifeguard at the wave pool and also worked the Alpine slide,’ she explains. 

Like many who worked and went to the state’s hottest attraction, Action Park, Tracey has fond recollections of the resort and still shares them today across the many social media platforms dedicated to the now defunct theme park.

But these aren’t Disneyland style ‘most magical place on earth’ memories people are recounting. These are packaged more in a ‘if you don’t have a scar, were you even there?’ kind of vibe. 

‘Everyone knew Action Park had safety issues,’ explains documentary maker Seth Porges, who also used to visit the resort as a child. ‘But that only made it more popular. Nobody is going to come back to school after a summer trip to Disney World and brag that they made it to the end of Pirates of the Caribbean. But so many Action Park rides were vehicles for bragging rights. 

‘It was also an unbelievably fun place, probably the most fun amusement park that ever existed,’ he says. ‘People – especially teenagers from New Jersey – tend to think they are invincible; and that the risk was worth the reward.’

Describing the park’s most notorious ride, the Alpine Slide, Tracey remembers, ‘it was very dangerous. It was made of concrete and you sat on a plastic slide which had a hand brake as it could go really fast. 

‘There were no side rails so when people went down, they would go super-quick and sometimes go over the side or bump into the guys in front of them causing them to get thrown.

‘They usually came off the ride with cuts on them and I know of one head injury.’

While it’s expected that a certain level of jeopardy has to exist for a theme park to succeed, experience has shown there is a very fine line between terror and tragedy. 

Here in the UK, 11-year-old Evha Jannath died after she fell from the Splash Canyon ride rapids ride at Drayton Manor theme park. In 2015, Alton Towers suffered its biggest accident to date when a carriage carrying 16 people on the Smiler rollercoaster smashed into an empty stationary car causing four passengers to suffer serious leg injuries. Resort owners were fined £5million and faced civil court cases from the victims.

However, it would seem that Action Park was in a league of its own when it came to accidents and fatalities. 

Created in 1978 by businessman Eugene Mulvihill, it was situated around 50 miles outside of New York City, nestled in the rural town of Vernon, New Jersey. During the park’s 18-year history it was littered with injuries and lawsuits and was responsible for six shocking deaths – two in the space of one week. 

Yet, the resort has been the subject of many nostalgic Facebook groups, websites, podcasts and documentaries. Gene’s own son Andy, now 56, released a warts-and-all book about his own experiences, while there were rumours that streaming service Hulu was developing a comedy series about the park. 

Seth Porges was behind the HBO hit documentary Class Action Park and says, ‘So much of what happened at Action Park was bizarre and strange and felt like mere rumour that it became effectively an urban legend – despite it largely being all true.

‘As I got older, my memories of what I saw there – insane rides, bodies flying in off of said rides, and a general atmosphere of debaucherous chaos – didn’t square with my concept of how society was supposed to work. Like, there’s no way that actually happened.

‘But when I began to look deeper, I saw that most of what was out there were these rumours and legends and I wanted to see if they were true.’

In Seth’s film, interviewees reel off a list of jaw-dropping injuries and incidents, from being impaled on a bolt to near-decapitation and electrocution – each one reinforcing the idea that the true story behind this park really is a classic case of fact being stranger than fiction.

‘Virtually everybody who went left with incredible stories,’ he explains. ‘Many people got hurt, many more had an unbelievable time. The most shocking and amazing thing about Action Park was that everybody knew it was dangerous – that these rides could hurt you and were manned by distracted and worryingly young children – yet that became part of the appeal.’

But within the badge of honour banter that echoes through those who ‘survived’ Action Park, there are also the horrifying stories of those who didn’t make it home after a trip there. 

This tragic death toll includes an electrocution on a kayak ride, a heart attack after dropping into freezing cold water from a rope swing, the death of an employee on the notorious Alpine slide and three drownings in the tidal wave pool.

Gene’s son Andy was working as a lifeguard on duty the day one of the drownings occurred.

‘I pulled a guy off the bottom of the pool floor that was dead. I personally did. That was horrible, man,’ he once said, calling all the deaths at Action Park ‘devastating’.

Introduced in 1981, it was a huge freshwater pool that held up to 1,000 people, producing waves that lasted for 20 minutes at a time and would reach more than 3ft high.

With 12 red cross certified lifeguards stationed at the pool at all times, former employees have since said they were saving up to 30 people a day.

Andy himself admits that the lifeguards pulled ‘thousands and thousands of people who had no business in the water.’

Tracy also remembers it well. ‘It was really dangerous as it created these big waves and a lot of people who could not swim needed to be saved.’ 

Their first death was caused by the Alpine slide – a notorious ride that was crowned the park’s most popular by the New Jersey Herald in 1986.

It’s perilous appeal was famously recreated by Jackass’ Johnny Knoxville for his 2018 film Action Point. He’s since said that he was injured more times making the movie than throughout his whole career and suffered ‘four concussions, broke my hand, busted my meniscus, whiplash, stitches over my right eye, which required stitches, lost a couple teeth’.

The real life slide’s victim was 19-year-old park employee, George Larsson Jr, who in 1980 was flung 25 feet from the ride after it derailed. Hitting his head on a rock, he died from his injuries days later. 

From 1984-86 Evan Schuman was a reporter for the New Jersey Herald tasked with writing investigative pieces about Action Park. 

‘What was really interesting was that not many of the local kids went there for fun,’ he explains. ‘The park was populated overwhelmingly by New York state teenagers. The local kids worked there – but there was no way they were going to risk their lives on the rides, and most knew enough not to go on them.’

Through his research, Evan discovered that in 1984/85 alone there were at least 14 fractures and 26 head injuries reported to have been caused by slides across the park, while the park had been a target of more than 100 lawsuits since 1983, the majority in connection with the Alpine Slide.

Around the same time, Gene Mulvihill was charged with criminal conspiracy, fraud, theft, embezzlement, forgery and tax evasion in connection with an alleged conspiracy to create a fictitious insurance company. He pleaded guilty to having intentionally created a paper insurance company to save money and was fined $300,000 dollars – however it was rumoured that the real reason he had tried to set up his own insurance firm was because he was having trouble finding anyone to insure the park.  

It was in 1985 that the park saw the opening – and closing – of its controversial Cannonball Loop, a 100ft high water slide that Andy has since described as ‘a ride to survive, not a ride for fun’. 

When a dummy had been sent down to test it came out the other end decapitated. Even so, Andy was sent down next to try it out.

‘I was wearing my hockey equipment when I did it,’ he has often explained. ‘If you didn’t have enough speed you’d fall and smash your face, and if you smashed hard enough, you could break your nose or knock out some teeth.’

Park officials shut down the ride after just one month due to safety concerns. 

Yet, despite a long list of reported injuries and fatalities since opening, the park was never closed for investigation and only ever received one official fine. 

‘I also discovered they were using underage workers, but managed to avoid getting in trouble for that too,’ adds Evan. ‘I was speaking to the staff in the car park on their way out and once I’d finished each interview, I’d ask the usual questions such as what their job was, their name, age… It didn’t click for a while, but after a few times I realised that I’d been talking to kids who were being allowed to operate rides at just 14, when the minimum age was 16.  

‘I reported it to the New Jersey Labor department, who did a ‘sneak inspection’ but they didn’t find anyone underage staffing the rides. I knew they wouldn’t as one of the young girls I’d spoken to told me that she’d received a call that same day to say that anyone underage who usually operated rides had been told either not to come in, or if they did they could just spend the day on the rides. The park had been tipped off by someone, but I never knew who.’

In 1987, Evan also ran a piece after speaking to a medical director of the ER at a nearby hospital. He told the young reporter that five to 10 people were brought there daily from the park, citing injuries such as ‘ankle sprains, cuts and contusions, and… a few broken bones.’ He also mentioned that many of the injured came into the emergency room with alcohol on their breath.

‘If you’re wondering how someone can be so stupid to go to a park that has rides like this, combine a 16-year-old boy with alcohol and you’d be surprised how stupid they can get,’ adds Evan. 

In response to their critics, park officials were always quick to point out that the resort had over a million visitors each year– sometimes 12,000 on a busy weekend – which in theory made the actual injury rate statistically small. 

However, as Matthew Seiddon, a former member of the advisory board of Carnival Amusement Ride Safety pointed out in a 1986 interview with the New Jersey Herald, ‘all I can say is that I wouldn’t want to be the one to have to tell the parents of a dead child that his was the only accident among 1 million riders. I wouldn’t want to be in that position.’

‘I would often be asked to try out the rides,’ remembers Evan. ‘They’d say how can you write about it without actually trying it. But how many autopsies do you need to attend before you realise this is not a good idea?’

In 1996 the park finally closed down. Not because of health and safety issues, but due to bankruptcy following years of lawsuits. 

Three years later it was bought by another resort company who renamed it Mountain Creek Waterpark. 15 years after that the Mulvihill family bought it back and relaunched it in 2015 – two years after Gene’s death – with much more stringent safety rules. And it’s still going today, albeit not with the same memory making rides.

‘In a world full of people telling you “No”, Action Park was the land of yes,’ remembers Seth. ‘A place where you could do anything you wanted. A place where a skinny kid from New Jersey could prove that he was tough. A place where you could have experiences and memories that you would carry with you for the rest of your life.’

He adds that it’s Action Park’s innate duality – the fact that such a fun thing could also be so filled with tragedy – is also what makes it so fascinating. ‘It’s a place that so many people hold near and dear to their hearts that many credit with shaping them into the person they grew up to be.

‘But at the same time, it’s a place that hurt people,’ explains Seth. ‘However, it can be both. One of the realisations we came into while making the movie is that it’s okay to laugh and joke about Action Park and accept it as a place of tragedy. As one of our interviewees puts it, we often laugh at the horrors of our past because, well, what other choice do we have?’

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But there one was one scene that really struck a nerve – and created memes-a-plenty – as America Fererra’s character Gloria spooled off the many impossible double standards faced by women.

One in particular felt jarring – especially in the face of today’s body positivity movement: ‘You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin.’

Such a statement showed that no matter how hard we’ve worked – and are still working – to help women embrace and love the skin they’re in, the message is falling miserably short.

So, why are will stil hung up about being skinny?

Sophie Hughes is now in her thirties, but says she spent most of her teenage years and twenties desperate to be thin and battling eating disorders.

Her ordeal began when she was just 13 and got her first boyfriend.

Feeling the heady rush of love and excitement typically associated with someone’s first crush, Sophie was keen to spend as much time with him as possible – and that included lunch breaks.

Previously, the teenager would sit with all her friends in their form room, happily eating and chatting. But for some reason, Sophie felt an innate sense of shame to be seen eating in front of her new boyfriend.

So she started skipping lunch. She’d still sit with her friends in her form room, just without her packed lunch astride her lap. No-one thought this was odd. But for Sophie, things escalated. She started skipping dinner, ignoring the crying pangs of hunger from her protesting stomach.

‘If I ever ate, I would punish my body afterwards,’ Sophie, now 32, explains to Metro.co.uk. ‘I could never be small enough. If I wasn’t as slim as I could possibly be, I wasn’t lovable. I really believed that.’

Sophie’s attitude followed her well into her late 20s, with huge levels of reconditioning needed for her to stop hating her body.

However, her story is far from unique, with many people (women in particular) recognising the unexplained urge to be slim when it’s not their natural body shape.

While curvier bottoms and brazilian buttlift surgery (albeit paired with a tiny waist) might have boomed in the last decade, recent conversations have done a u-turn focusind once again on ‘heroin chic’ – the extremely thin physique popularised by the models of the 1990s.

It may be easy to dismiss the language around women’s bodies as unimportant, but the impact of seeing certain body types lifted and celebrated cannot be ignored.

UK GPs have recorded a razor sharp rise of teenage girls in the UK developing eating disorders during the coronavirus pandemic, with eating disorder support charity BEAT reporting a 300% increase in calls to its helpline during that period.

However, you don’t necessarily have to look at the extreme end of disordered eating to see the impact a slimmer idealised body shape may be having on young girls and women. Research from This Girl Can found 45% of women are worried about showing their body while getting active in the summer.

Michelle Bliss has been dieting on and off over the years and found herself turning towards the weight loss drug du jour, Ozempic, after reading about its growing popularity on social media.

The medication is only available in the UK to control Type 2 diabetes, and only prescribed for those with a body mass index of 30 and over. However, it can also can be acquired fairly easily off-prescription from online pharmacies.

While it’s been rumoured that many celebrities are prolific users, others have spoken openly about trying the medication to lose or maintain weight. Tesla CEO Elon Musk has publicly said he injects the drug, while former Prime Minister Boris Johnson also confessed to using Ozempic to curb his frequent ‘cheddar and chorizo’ fridge raids.

‘I went to an online pharmacy,’ Michelle, 28, tells Metro.co.uk. ‘They asked for a BMI and a picture of myself, and it was posted to me. I was on and off it for around four months.’

Having always been quite petite as a child, as well as exhibiting eating disorder tendencies, Michelle says she noticed a change in her body after having a baby.

She had previously tried quite extreme diets to drop the pounds, including juice cleanses and one particular regime that saw her only eat six boiled eggs and a few apples a day.

‘I initially wanted to lose the mum pouch,’ she explains. ‘I put more pressure on myself as I always had a smaller frame.’

However, it’s when Michelle’s mother passed away last year that she noticed a significant change in her weight.

‘I used to be really active, eat well and go to the gym,’ she says. ‘But then I became quite sedentary. I wasn’t exercising as much. I didn’t have the motivation – I was grieving. I was staying at home and eating. In the space of three months, I went up 15kg. I had no clothes fit me. I’m two dress sizes bigger. That’s when I went on Ozempic.’

Staying on the drug was difficult though. While Michelle lost around 5kg, the medication’s side effects, which include vomiting, nausea and fatigue, made it hard for her to keep working on top of being a mother.

‘I’ve come off it now as it just didn’t work, she says. ‘It drains the life out of you.’

Michelle, who works as a personal development coach, admits that like most women she’s still after the holy grail of a quick fix to help keep the weight off – and is open to other options such as a gastric balloon. Although she wishes life wasn’t like this.

‘It’s hard to get out of the mindset that has taught us being slim equals success, acceptance and attractiveness,’ she explains.

‘We’re like sheep. If everyone around me, from celebrities to real life, were bigger then I would be happier going up a size too. But it’s the norm to just want to be like everyone else – so while the majority of us are still desperately trying to be slim, that’s not going to change. We are literally being influenced by other people in every aspect of our life, not just on social media.’

While the thin ideal may seem like it has always been the most coveted body shape, historically this hasn’t always been the case. In the 17^th and 18^th century, artists depicted the ideal woman as curvy and voluptuous, with the term Rubenesque entering the lexicon after Peter Paul Rubens’s numerous depictions of fuller-figured women.

‘Idealised body shapes have changed throughout history,’ explains counselor and psychotherapist Cate Campbell. ‘Being pale and large was once a sign that someone had enough money to eat and avoid outdoor work. Not much more than a century ago, body shape was still created by clothes (think puffy sleeves, voluminous skirts and corsets), but after World War I, when women began entering the workforce and participating in sport, clothes became less restrictive and more revealing of body shape.’

Slimness as the ‘ideal’ became increasingly popularised in the 1920s onwards, with the growing availability of mass media and marketing. According to a study published in the journal Sex Roles in 1986, the bust-to-waist ratios among women featured in the magazines Vogue and Ladies Home Journal dwindled by about 60% between 1901 and 1925.

The study reads: ‘Such findings would constitute empirical support for the hypothesis that the mass media play a role in promoting the slim standard of bodily attractiveness fashionable among women.’

While popular media has been influential in how we perceive our bodies, Cate adds there’s additional psychological pressures for women to remain petite.

‘We’re all aware that food and fashion are money spinners but, because women are still socialised to be caring and helpful to others, we feel guilt and shame about appearing to be more interested in ourselves and what’s sometimes perceived as gluttony,’ she explains.

‘In my work, I see many couples where both partners believe they should work hard at keeping in shape – and, therefore, desirable – for the other. Keeping in shape and being fit also projects an ability of control. For many people, being out of shape can mean slovenliness and lack of willpower, which is really not the case and this societal construct around body image needs to continue to be challenged.’

It’s easy to pin the blame on social media, especially as one study published in 2017 found a direct link between Instagram usage and increased symptoms of the eating disorder orthorexia nervosa. However, we’ve long been yearning to be thin way before the World Wide Web struck.

The infamous diet culture of the 80s introduced us to the cabbage soup diet andads asking if you could ‘pinch more than an inch?’, while in the 90s it was the norm for magazine covers to scream ‘drop a stone in six weeks!’ or ‘lose that belly!’

Even when we entered a new millennia, we remained under the spell of fad eating regimes, with The Special K diet being another Kellogg’s case in point – something currently being dragged by Gen Z on TikTok. Established in 2004, the cereal makers promised that women could drop a jean size in two weeks by swapping a meal with a bowl of cereal.

However, as social media arrived from just around the corner, it brought with it a viisibility never experienced before – and with that the beginnings of a newfound acceptance of differing body types.

Even so, more than a decade on from the advent of Insta, the body positivity movement is still fighting an uphill battle.

According to psychiatrist, aesthetic doctor and body specialist Dr Galyna Selezneva, the blame for many’s inescapable desire to be thin lies at the door of both Hollywood and the fashion industry, thanks to ‘decades of imprinted messages’ that skinny is sexy.

‘The most common size in the UK is a size 14 to 16. But there is still this idea that skinny is fashionable, acceptable,’ she says. ‘When the reality is just that a smaller body needs less work creating a garment.’

Howeverm Dr Selezna admits there is a deep societal misunderstanding around weight and health. ‘From a medical perspective, fat is light, muscle is heavy. If anything, we should be looking at the scales and thinking we want to increase muscle weight, to become stronger and get more functional benefits,’ she says. ‘But still we see weight increase as a negative.’

Dr Selezneva adds thatthe age-old message of ‘if you want to be a successful, career driven woman, somehow you had to be skinny’ is being perpetuated today by filters on social media.

‘Just as people want to appear to have smooth skin, they want to appear smaller,’ she says. ‘There must be a reason why a tech company has decided to make a filter to make you look thinner. Why would they even think about it? Even they are driven by this trend.’

However, Sophie Hughes believes social media can be used to encourage positivity and hope amongst its younger userbase.

Unlike the mass media of the early aughts, social media can be curated and tailored to each user’s needs. Removing more toxic body images, and replacing them with more positive role models, is something she found helped her change her attitude towards her own body.

‘We have to take responsibility,’ Sophie explains. ‘For me, social media transformed the way I see my body. It also destroyed the way I saw my body when I chose to follow smaller bodies with toned abs. But when I flipped that and unfollowed people who made me question my self-worth, and started to follow inspiring people who are so confident in themselves and took charge, my social media is positive, inspiring and diverse space.

‘It can be used for so much good for women to support and encourage each other in the body positivity space if that’s what you choose it to be.’

Sophie, who now works as a curve model, also goes into schools to speak to teenagers about developing a positive body image.

‘We’re having more conscious conversations about it. I think that’s how any change comes about,’ she continues. ‘No one came into my school and spoke about body confidence, it just wasn’t a thing. The fact we’re also seeing more diverse bodies amongst brands, even if they are accused of “box ticking”, is important. We’re slowly seeing people being represented. It may be slow, but things are changing.’

Whether the desire for the thin ideal will ever truly go away is uncertain. For Michelle, who worries about her own daughter, she hopes people will learn to love their bodies and accept what they look like regardless of size.

‘I always encourage my daughter to be accepting of her body and be happy with herself,’ she says.

Meanwhile Sophie says we should be moving towards body neutrality – simply being at peace with your appearance – in a bid to help women shake off the burden of generations of body hang-ups.

‘When I first started looking at body positivity, I thought it was about learning to love every inch of myself,’ she explains. ‘I’ve come to the point where it’s about just living a peaceful life without thinking about my body too much.

‘It’s about being in a space where I genuinely grasp that my body is the least interesting thing about me.’

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Fresh-faced and ready to explore the world, he had little on him bar the clothes on his back and a keen sense of adventure.

Costas’ travels took him to Ko Pha Ngan, Thailand – then just a remote island untouched by tourists. It was home to one small fishing family, who took the young man in for three months.

During that time, he explored the island intensely, mapping his adventure for his then girlfriend. She then shared the map with friends, who in turn, spread the word about the idyllic Ko Pha Ngan.

Fast-forward 20 years, and Costas, now a travel journalist, opened the New York Times to find a feature about the island. However, the bountiful white sands and clear blue seas were gone – instead, rubbish lay strewn across the beach, having been trampled on by hedonists looking to seek a good time at one of Ko Pha Ngan’s infamous full moon parties. 

Today, Thailand and its various island offshoots now attract on average 40million tourists a year.

Costas’ story, and many others like this, are described in new documentary, The Last Tourist. Touted as the equivalent of Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth for the travel industry, the film exposes the real impact of over tourism in an increasingly delicate ecosystem, and questions whether our wanderlust could be destroying the planet so many of us are desperate to explore.

It’s an innate part of human nature to travel, with the industry having been revolutionised in the 1980s; the growing number of the global middle class, paired with cheaper air travel and bargain package deals meant a holiday abroad was more easily available to greater numbers.

The internet further perpetuated this, with people looking to book a holiday being able to choose a location, flight and hotel in just a matter of clicks.

Social media has also made destinations that seemed unattainable easily accessible – we can replicate the exact holiday a travel influencer took, see the same sights and even take the same pictures thanks to geotagging and location services.

However, according to Tyson Sadler, the director of The Last Tourist, many of these tourist destinations are unprepared for such a steep increase in holidaymakers.

‘I don’t think we were adequately prepared for the impact of geotagging on delicate environments,’ he tells Metro.co.uk. ‘We are seeing the environmental degradation of tourism in fragile areas.’

Paired with the ongoing threat of climate change, Tyson explains that wildfires, like those which occurred in Greece last month, could become all the more damaging.

‘With increased human activity and overcrowded tourist destinations, they experience higher levels of foot traffic and human activity which can lead to fires – even negligent behaviours on behalf of the tourists,’ he explains.

’Some destinations lack the infrastructure to cater to large numbers of visitors which can hamper firefighting responsibilities and response times. Having over-tourism can add immense pressures on natural resources, which leads to things that impact the wildfires such as deforestation and water scarcity.’

But wildfires aren’t the only issue. With all-inclusive stays and resorts often bringing a slice of the western world to far flung countries, they also may prevent tourists from integrating and exploring the country they visit.

While it may sound harmless – and even desirable –  to be able to order Italian cuisine while in Barbados, it can have a significant impact on local surroundings.

Local produce is overlooked for foreign imports, and small shops don’t benefit from the spending power of holidaymakers. Meanwhile, locals are paid poor wages to serve huge corporations.

‘Tourism could bring huge amounts of money to local areas,’ Bruce Poon Tip, founder of the G Adventures travel company explains to Metro.co.uk. ‘But so often, travel is a one-way conversation. The locals receive no custom or benefit of having holidaymakers there.

‘Money is often siphoned off to huge corporations based abroad.

It’s certainly the case in Kenya. While around 2million tourists visit the country to take in the breath-taking sights, it’s thought only 14% of every dollar spent there stays in the country – the rest goes to foreign investors based overseas.

Even travellers with only good intentions can leave disastrous impacts on the country they visit. 

The Last Tourist observes the popularity of animal performances and elephant rides in countries such as Thailand and Cambodia, which are hugely popular with holidaymakers.

However, the documentary highlights the unspeakably cruel conditions these animals are kept in, regularly beaten and drugged into submission in order to be sedated enough to accommodate the thousands of tourists keen to see them perform.

The sharp rise of ‘voluntourism’ is also a cause for concern. Recent figures suggest around 10million people a year travel to volunteer in orphanages in developing countries.

However, the revolving door of young people looking to do good abroad can leave deep psychological scars on particularly vulnerable children, many of whom have insecure attachment styles. Children are also often asked to perform, and are often used as props for Instagram photos.

In The Last Tourist, Clarissa Elakis, Project Co-ordinator at Child Safe International, compared the rise in voluntourism as being akin to ‘zoo tourism’, and believes in some ways it is a new form of neo-colonialism fuelled by a ‘white saviour mindset.’

The popularity of voluntourism has further fed the growing orphanage industrial complex. These facilities have proven to be a lucrative business, with many volunteers expected to pay for their own travel and accommodation.

Since 2005, Cambodia has seen a 75% rise in orphanages – a direct correlation to the amount of people looking to volunteer in the country. Meanwhile, it is thought 80% of children in these facilities have at least one living parent, and are taken to these facilities for financial gain.

With the numerous problems evident in the travel industry, tourism looks to be a worrying and terrifying state of affairs. But the makers of the Last Tourist are keen to stress that their film is intended to be ultimately an optimistic look at how travel can, and should, be done.

Bruce Poon Tip’s G Adventures company – which promises a cultural immersion in a country, working with locals for a sustainable experience that benefits all – has seen a significant rise in business over the last year.

‘People want something new,’ he explains. ‘We’re 30% up on 2019 numbers now. We are seeing people staying longer in destinations and deeper in their travels, with many taking one big holiday a year and really exploring their destination. We’re hoping that trend continues.’

‘I’m cautiously optimistic,’ documentary maker Tyson Sadler agrees. ‘We’re going in the right direction, but it’s about sharing this message of being conscious and responsible. Travel will always have an impact, we can’t change that, but it’s about what we can do to reduce that impact.’

With the coronavirus crisis and the subsequent lockdowns effectively closing down the world for two years, many sustainable tourism industries were hopeful that Covid could serve as a hard reset for the travel industry.

For Bruce, who worked with other larger corporations during the lockdown, he has started to see conversations being had in boardrooms that would have otherwise been unheard of 10 years ago.

‘The COP declaration, which lots of tour operators signed up for, means there’s a huge commitment for us to do better,’ he explains. ‘I know in every board meeting in tourism, sustainability is a conversation. Unfortunately, with the industry having lost so much money in the pandemic, we need to move faster. We could be doing a hell of a lot better. But we’re taking steps in the right direction.’

For Bruce and Tyson, the only way to accelerate these changes is for tourists to demand them. Every dollar, euro or pound spent abroad is a vote on how we want travel to change.

‘When it comes to business, people don’t do things because it’s the right thing to do,’ Bruce says. ‘People do it because the customer demands it. One of the main reasons we made this film is to confront customers with the realities of tourism and get them to make the change.’

Effectively, Bruce continues, travel is a privilege, and not a right – for tourists to appreciate the world we have, we have to change our entire attitude towards our holidays.

‘There are so few people in the world with the ability to say: “I can go on my holidays,’” he explains. ‘You look at the population and the amount of people who can travel. It’s an extreme privilege to be able to do it. But with privilege comes great responsibility.

‘We have the opportunity to transform lives by going on holiday if we do it right. We have to have the mindset that it’s a community experience.

‘People used to want these luxury holidays with the comforts of home, which means the destination is no longer important because you’re bogged down with conveniences. Travel should be so much more than that.’

The Last Tourist can be streamed on Sky and Apple TV in the UK. For more information and to watch the trailer click here.

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‘My mother and father are both addicts and alcoholics. You can imagine a child growing up around that – a house full of drugs, violence, indescribable trauma, strangers in our home off their heads,’ remembers Wayne, who shares his story under a pseudonym.

It was this combination of addiction and isolation that made the teenager a prime target for violent gangs and a victim of criminal exploitation forced to sell drugs to pay off an ongoing debt he knew he would never be able to settle.

Recalling how his life spiralled out of control, Wayne says it all started when he got his first job. ‘I was befriended by a guy. This was where the exploitation started.’

Soon the two were meeting up outside of work to smoke weed. Then one day the friend turned up at his house asking him to sell two big ounces of cannabis. Instead of selling it however, Wayne smoked the lot. ‘It was like Christmas come early,’ he admits. 

What he didn’t know at the time, was that he had been targeted by his ‘friend’, who was really part of a gang that operated in fraud and exploitation, and demanded he gave back £300 for what he’d smoked.

‘So, I started trying to sell drugs for him to pay off this money, but he’s giving me more and more drugs. I’m smoking more, so this debt’s getting higher and higher,’ recalls Wayne. 

As well as paying off his initial debt of £300, Wayne’s friend kept adding interest making the amount impossible to settle. When he couldn’t, he was driven to a secluded area where a gang of men threatened to shoot Wayne if he didn’t pay the money he owed. They also made it clear they knew where his mother lived.

Although Wayne managed to cobble together the cash owed from a friend, the gang continued to demand more – and didn’t stop for three years. In that time, Waynemoved out of the family home in a bid to keep them safe, and began living on the streets. By the time he turned up to a dry house four years later, all he had was a black bag and a coat inside of it. ‘I had no passport, no birth certificate,’ he remembers.

Although Wayne has since managed to turn his life around with the support of  a rehab programme through the dry house and is now sober and working in social care, the impact of being exploited in such a brutal manner has left its mark.

‘It’s tough. My mental health is never steady,’ he admits. ‘I live with the effects of exploitation. I live with the effect of homelessness, the trauma, and will probably be living with it for the rest of my life.’

Wayne is just one of the hundreds of people that has been helped by the anti-slavery charity Unseen over the years. Although his experience may not fit the bill of what a ‘modern slavery’ victim might look like, his experiences of exploitation at the hands of hardened criminals proves that there’s no one size fits all. 

In fact, according to Andrew Wallis, Unseen’s CEO, it’s key that people understand that exploitation can happen to anyone – traffickers have no respect for race, sex, nationality, education level, they just look for a vulnerable person.

What’s just as concerning is that last year was the busiest year for the charity’s helpline, which operates 24/7 and 365 days a year, with an 116% increase from the previous year in calls about potential victims and a shocking 70% rise in modern slavery cases being reported. 

‘Over the seven years for which the helpline has been running, there has been a steady increase,’ explains Andrew, although he’s keen to stress that this is not just down to a rising number of victims, it’s also due to better understanding of the issue. ‘2022 saw people coming out of the pandemic, there is more awareness of our helpline,’ he says.

Andrew also believes that this is also due to the trust victims have in the charity, saying that Unseen are ‘the only national helpline of scale around the globe that doesn’t receive government funding.’ Which means that victims may feel a confidence that their data won’t be shared with immigration officials or other officials. 

‘That level of confidentiality and safety is absolutely key for victims,’ he says.

However, that doesn’t mean the charity works under a veil of secrecy. In fact, they often share the stories of those they have helped, such as Wayne, albeit anonymously, so victims feel secure that they can’t be tracked down by their abusers. 

‘We want to highlight how easy it is to be trafficked,’ Andrew tells Metro.co.uk. ‘A reason why victims want to speak about their experiences is that they don’t want others to go through what they have. It also reinforces the deception phase of recruitment and shows that anyone can be trafficked and be a victim of modern slavery.

‘The range of emotions that victims go through vary on a case-by-case basis,’ adds Andrew. 

Some have just been pulled out by the police and are turning up to Unseen literally with their worldly possessions or just the clothes that the police have given to them, he explains. While others come through a local authority such as Unseen or the Salvation Army and are referred via the national referral mechanism.

‘Victims can feel guilt, anger, or even feel stupid for putting themselves in that situation,’ he explains. ‘I remember one client telling us they were told by their exploiters: “You amount to nothing, if you step out of line, we will just kill you and toss your body. No one will find you; you are worthless.”

‘Traffickers think of their victim as valuable while they are making money for them. In essence, it is an economic crime, it is all about making money with horrendous human rights outcomes.’

Another story shared on Unseen’s website is that of Priscilla, a victim of modern slavery, who was abused for years and forced to live in hellish conditions.

Orphaned at a young age when she was living in South Africa, she was sent to live with her grandmother nearby who had very little money, and couldn’t afford to send her to school.

Instead, the little girl stayed at home and helped out with chores. One day Priscilla – who also goes by a pseudonym – was told by her grandmother that she had found her work in the UK, and gave her a passport and airline tickets. 

However, instead of living the life she dreamed she might have in England, the young girl found herself trapped in a private family house, treated as a slave, and made to feel worthless constantly for years. 

Although Priscilla doesn’t detail what she was forced to go through, there have been countless cases of young women being trafficked to the UK and kept virtual prisoners, having to endlessly cook and clean for families, while receiving no wages or time off. Some have even been expected to have sex as part of their job. 

Priscilla reveals that although she eventually managed to escape ,with nowhere to go, she was forced to live on the streets. As her mental health declined, she was eventually found by the authori and sectioned. 

It was while she was recovering in hospital that Priscilla was put in touch with Unseen, and eventually released to one of their safe houses. There, she received support to help with her trauma and took part in music therapy, cooking and nutrition classes. 

‘I have seen changes in my life,’ she says. ‘I was unable to make decisions for myself before. Now I make my own decisions. I’m happy that I can do things by myself.’ 

With an estimated 100,000 – 130,000 victims of modern slavery in the UK right now, Andrew believes far more needs to be done to tackle the issue. 

‘It doesn’t sit on the national threat assessment level at which it should,’ he says. ‘There is an issue of funding, a lack of training and awareness on the matter. I cannot say that every police officer knows what modern slavery is, how to identify it and deal with it or that every agency understands what modern slavery and knows how to report on it. We are nowhere near that.’

He adds that it’s not just the police who need better training either – local government and NHS staff could also benefit. 

Asked whether the Ukraine War has had an impact on these numbers, Andrew admits it’s undeniable. ‘Four and a half million women and children fleeing… There are traffickers at the border, and we are also finding people across the borders and in the UK already,’ he says.

Speaking about what he would want to see happen going forward with preventing modern slavery and exploitation, Andrew explains there are several changes that need to be made. ‘One is that we need to upgrade legislation in the UK. The government promised two years ago to bring forward the modern slavery legislation and they still haven’t done this,’ he says. 

‘Secondly, I want to see manifesto commitments from every party that they will bring forward this legislation. Thirdly, upgrade the transparency and supply piece within the legislation so companies have to report all incidents of modern slavery and explain if there is none.’

Andrew also says that the government already has the tools to make things better, pointing out that the Modern Slavery Act 2015, Section 54 states: ‘the home secretary can take any company to court who hasn’t produced a modern slavery report.’  

However, he adds, there have been thousands of companies who haven’t produced a Modern Slavery Statement but not one home secretary has taken anyone to court. ‘This is a local, national, and global problem – but there is only around 1% successful prosecutions of crimes related to modern slavery.’

However, there is a chink of hope. Unseen believe that by sharing the harrowing stories of those who have experienced exploitation, the more it will be uncovered.

After all, Andrew points out, a quarter of calls to the helpline come from victims, which means the rest – and the resulting increase in calls – are from people coming forward to report a form of slavery or exploitation. 

‘The more you look for exploitation, the more you find it,’ he says. 

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‘It’s exhausting – and terrible for your mental health.’ 

As one of the performers taking part in this year’s Manchester Pride, Reeta is shedding light on the reality of belonging to both LGBTQ+ and Asian communities. 

‘You’d never see Asians in queer spaces because those spaces didn’t feel safe for us. Meanwhile, we couldn’t be ourselves in Asian spaces either,’ they add. ‘I remember when we could never fully be ourselves anywhere.’ 

Reeta, who performs under the name of RAIN and also works as a producer and poet, tells Metro.co.uk that it was after losing their family when they came out, that inspired them to help others in similar situations. 

‘Unfortunately, loss of family and culture is still common in our community and something we live in fear of,’ Reeta explains. ‘If we do lose family or choose to leave, like I did, it can become a very isolating experience.’ 

In 2017, 10 years after coming out to their family – and 21 years after coming out to themselves – Reeta founded Gaysians, a volunteer-led movement to connect queer Asians, increase positive media visibility and improve access to support services.  

‘We’ve come a long way since we didn’t see versions of ourselves in the media or nightlife or on the street. We’re more visible now and I’m immensely proud,’ says Reeta.  

‘As recently as a decade ago you didn’t see queer South Asians on screen or in clubs. We’ve worked extremely hard to mainstream our narratives and it’s incredible seeing where we are today, whether that’s performing at Glastonbury, writing for TV, or starring in TV soaps and Marvel films.

‘I’m a shop kid’, Reeta continues. ‘From the age of six I was working at the till and later delivering newspapers. I can only imagine how differently life would have turned out for me and my family if we’d seen positive representations of queer south Asians in the papers back then. Every one of us matters and I want us all to know that and really believe it.’ 

RAIN is just one of the star turns at Manchester Pride later this month, as part of the event’s Queer Asian Takeover, curated and hosted by iconic drag queen Lucky Roy Singh. 

Manchester-based Lucky – who cites Indian-British model Neelam Kaur Gill among their style influences – is house mother to the House of Spice, an collective of performers of Asian, Middle Eastern and North African heritage. 

As the driving force behind this year’s Queer Asian Takeover, they explain: ‘The idea was formed out of a community session held with Manchester Pride and [artistic director of dance collective Ghetto Fabulous and founder of Black Pride Manchester] Darren Pritchard. 

‘It’s the first of its kind,’ adds Lucky. 

‘We don’t have enough people like me in queer spaces. Drag [show] line-ups are often all-white, particularly in cabaret. There’s almost no intersectionality or accountability from bookers or many of the booked artists involved. That’s what makes this event so important and historic. Other Prides should take note.’ 

The Queer Asian Takeover has been co-curated with local activities and performers like Singh, and will centre queer Asian joy, showcasing over 22 performers and collectives, including Val The Brown Queen, Gracie T, Club Zindagi and headliner DJ Gok Wan. 

Celebrating and elevating the art, experiences and stories of marginalised queer people feels more crucial than ever, to help combat the very real discrimination the community continues to face both in the UK and abroad. 

In 2022, the UK saw a 41% increase in anti-LGB hate crimes, and a 56% rise in transphobic hate crimes. Meanwhile, queer people of colour often facing dual discrimination, with over half having experienced racism within the LGBT community. 

This is what has led many community leaders, performers and activists to begin carving out their own spaces. 

‘My favourite singer is Leslie Cheung, an incredible Hong Kong pop singer, who sadly took his own life after being rejected for his sexuality and gender expression,’ singer-songwriter and model Jason Kwan tells Metro.co.uk. 

‘I was just a child when I saw the news [of Leslie’s death] on TV, but also knew I was queer and wanted to sing. That’s what pushed me to apply for a music scholarship and hardship fund and move to the UK when I was a teenager.’

Desperate to avoid the queerphobia Leslie Cheung face, Jason left Hong Kong as a teen, however he was sadly met with a different type of discrimination when first arriving in the UK. 

‘In Hong Kong, I’d never experienced racism as a minority, but when I arrived in the UK, people didn’t like me talking about being Asian’, says Jason. 

‘They didn’t like me singing in Chinese’ and my culture was parodied or appropriated, which made me want to hide my Asianness.’ 

Today, Jason is co-director of The Bitten Peach, the UK’s first queer pan-Asian and gender diverse cabaret collective, who closed the Manchester Pride Cabaret Stage in 2022.  

Since launching in 2019, it has hosted over 70 shows, platforming over 70 artists and selling over 3000 tickets. 

‘The Bitten Peach was my debut into London’s queer scene’, remembers Jason. “Before that, I was in straight bars in Camden singing covers for hardly any money.’ 

The collective also supports budding performers within the queer Asian community. 

‘We connect people to mentors and help them speak to people of similar experiences’, Jason continues.  

‘Our research found that the biggest barrier to entering the arts for young east and southeast Asians is their parents not wanting them to’. 

Although, family can play a large part in queer art and performance, often central to the stories we see on screen and stage, for example in the run-up to coming out or the aftermath of it.  

Reeta explains: ‘I’ve realised that the reason I lost my family was so I could heal and find happiness. My show [The Remedy] is about this journey.’ 

‘I’ve more recently been reconnecting with my family of origin. In fact, my father reached out to me for the first time in 15 years while I was touring the show. I realised this meant I would need to adapt its ending.’ 

‘I was obviously overjoyed to hear from my dad! But I also have had to reconcile a lot of complex emotions”, Loi reflects. Overall, I’m glad we have a chance to be in each other’s lives again and support each other. I’ve missed him more than words can say.’ 

Reeta, who is now transitioning to the name of RAIN, recently came out as non-binary. 

‘Our stories and experiences, just like our identities, have fluidity,’ they explain. Reeta will always be a part of mine, but at 45 I’m incredibly excited to start a new one with RAIN.’ 

Similarly, Lucky cites the familial influence of their work, and how this has been received from family members since. 

‘My style is very East meets West. It’s Bollywood, Indian, glamour and diamonds,’ Lucky tells Metro.co.uk.  

‘I took inspiration from watching the women and fabrics around me, bringing both [British and Indian] parts of my identity together. 

‘In 2021 I did a show for Trans Vegas [the UK’s largest festival celebrating trans artists] about watching my mum get dressed and ready in the morning, and how the fabrics made her feel’, they say. 

‘That’s the style my performances often take. Holding a mirror up to women like the ones I grew up around, showing them their fierceness and power’, Lucky continues.  

‘I’ve had female family members come to see my drag and they watch it in awe, because they see it’s inspired by their beauty.’ 

Meanwhile, Jason adds, ‘My mum flew from Hong Kong for The Bitten Peach’s first Udderbelly show [which took place on London’s Southbank]. She’d never watched anything like it and I’m probably the only openly queer person she knows. And she loved it. 

‘I do think how she received it was helped by its mainstream environment, in a Spiegel tent with lots of straight, white and middle-class audience members. I think for her it was important to see me being celebrated by people outside of my community, and in the majority, as this was a clearer marker that I was safe and accepted.’ 

While representation has started to improve in queer performance arts, thanks to work by groups like Gaysians, House of Spice and The Bitten Peach, the discrimination faced by queer people of colour remains very real. 

‘Canal Street continues to be rife with racism’, says Lucky Roy Singh, whose petition ‘End Racism In Manchester’s Gay Village’ has garnered almost 900 responses. 

‘I’ve experienced this in various forms throughout my life’, they continue, ‘and it urgently needs addressing’. 

This doesn’t just include members of the public but staffing too. 

‘We’ve seen and experienced racist door staff and, despite reporting it to venues’ management, hear nothing back. Is it a lack of education on inclusion issues, or a deliberate refusal to be educated on them?’ 

Education has formed a large part of Lucky Roy Singh’s activism, in particular on honour-based violence, which they themselves experienced in their 20s. 

‘I was failed by police, hospitals and victim support groups. Since therapy, I’ve campaigned to make honour-based violence recognised as a specific form of abuse, rather than just a cultural issue.’, Lucky says. 

‘I’ve trained 98 police officers, including Scotland Yard and Greater Manchester Police. I share my story with them, and the signs that previous officers had missed and failed to act on.’  

‘The training started as compulsory but has since been made mandatory, which I think is a great thing. Education is so important.’ 

So at a time where education and solidarity is more important than ever, what does allyship to queer Asians look like? 

‘It’s important to understand that ‘coming out’ most likely won’t look the same for many queer Asians [as it will other queer people]. It often takes longer for us to access our identity for ourselves’ says Reeta.  

‘Be sensitive and kind and don’t ask questions like “do your family know?” or “are they religious?” as these questions can trigger painful memories or cause anxiety’, they continue. 

‘Instead, offer us company, in particular during times of the year that can be tough, like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, family events such as weddings or religious festivals. I wish my friends had offered to take me to [queer Asian club night] Club Kali when I was struggling, as seeing other people like me would have made a huge difference to the isolation I was experiencing.’ 

For those outside of the community, a big part of allyship is supporting the art. 

‘Around 60% of our audiences are white, and they’re great allies. They love learning, taking part and having fun with us’, Jason explains.  

While Lucky says, ‘Support Asian artists. Acknowledge our art and our fashion and where it comes from. I want people to know that they can embrace it, but with respect and while knowing what it means.’

And that can start with attending and supporting this year’s Queer Asian Takeover at Manchester Pride, they add. ‘It’s going to be fierce and fun. Expect an infusion of celebration, colour, spice, fashion and culture… What more could you ask for?’

For more information about this year’s Manchester Pride, click here.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

Share your views in the comments below.

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Even so, she says she has been left with a lifetime of treasured memories, thanks to the impact the legendary artist had on her growing up.

‘My mom was the enforcer – you have parents who are like that,’ Cedella, now 55, tells Metro.co.uk.

‘One is the enforcer and the other one just spoils you rotten. Any time she would scold us he would come home and he would see us looking like we were scolded, and be like “Come, let’s come get some ice cream.”

‘He was that dad that would come in after you’ve done something wrong and make you think it wasn’t that bad. “Let’s go get some hamburgers and some ice cream and then you’ll be okay.” Those are some of my favourite memories because when Daddy passed I was only 13 years old. It’s not a lot of those memories I have, so the ones we do have I cherish.’

Over the years Cedella has since worked hard to continue her father’s legacy and is now set to release a new album of Bob Marley & The Wailers songs 40 years after his death.

As a musician and author, Cedella is the eldest biological child of the legendary artist, and says she hopes new record Africa Unite will help bring his voice and message to younger generations.

However, Cedella adds, growing up the daughter of Bob Marley wasn’t easy in Jamaica, where he was ‘not popular or well-liked’.

‘Having the Marley name was like “Oh lord, not them not these dirty Rastas,”‘ she recalls.

‘That’s what it was like growing up in Jamaica. I had friends who, if they wanted to spend the weekend with me, would have to tell their parents they were going to Jackie’s house because their parents wouldn’t allow them to come to my house.

‘Which was weird, because I thought my house was cooler than theirs. I’m not saying their fathers were stumbling drunks or whatever, but my father wasn’t at home just smoking herb and strumming his guitar. He was a good father, and my mother was a remarkable mother. So having that name in Jamaica did not open doors, did not give you any favours. And that’s good for us, because we had to work harder.’

Even as time passed and Marley’s influence and legacy grew – being just as strong today 40 years after his death – Cedella and his other children were never offered any special treatment and were far from today’s so-called ‘nepo babies’.

‘The name changed but we didn’t. We are still the same overachievers, the same people we were back then,’ she explains.

‘Some things that happen to you in childhood you never forget. You don’t forget how people treated you or your parents. My mom was shot in her head, they tried to kill my father. It’s things like those that you remember, you remember the people who did it – and why they wanted to do it.

‘It’s like they try and kill your parents because they sing about peace, love and unity. Who does that? Really and truly, who does that? So that’s the lineage we come from.

‘We were never born with a golden spoon, we all had to accomplish what we had to accomplish on our own. And yeah we were born with that name, but we didn’t choose it. We’re never gonna deny who we are to please anyone. A lot of people are going to have to get over that stuff.’

Marley was just 36 years old when he died, but to say he lived a lot in his short years would be an understatement, and fans will get a glimpse into his life in upcoming biopic One Love.

The film, starring Kingsley Ben-Adir as Marley and Lashana Lynch his wife Rita, was shot on location in Jamaica and London, and explores the singer’s time in the UK capital where he wrote acclaimed album Exodus.

Cedella was present for much of the filming, and admits it was ‘bittersweet’ and at times ‘difficult’ to see parts of her parents’ lives laid out that she wasn’t there for.

‘Honestly speaking, it was hard. Because you’re watching your parents’ life being told in front of you. I wasn’t on the road with Daddy so to see some of the experiences on the road in front of you, to see some of his life was difficult to sit there and watch day after day,’ she explains.

‘But it was also therapeutic. I’m grown-grown now, and they were so young. I think when Daddy went to London he was like late twenties, early thirties, and now I’m in my fifties.

‘It was bittersweet, but my parents were very young going through a lot of things… I think we take our life for granted sometimes.’

Even stranger were the moments she did remember, admits Cedella. One scene in the film sees her mother Rita, in Jamaica with the children, on the phone to the War singer who is over 4000 miles away in London, and asking “don’t you miss thie children? When are you coming back? The children miss you…”

‘I remember that phone call vividly. I can still see it. So to be able to watch their lives unfold in front of me was very educational and touching – and emotional. It was a lot of things, but I was happy I was there to experience it.’

Cedella says that she feels ‘grateful’ to be able to ‘see the struggle but also see the redemption’ in the film, and is especially ‘grateful I was born to these two, to Bob and Rita.’

‘I couldn’t have asked for better parents,’ she adds. ‘And if what they say is true, a spirit of a child chooses who their parents are gonna be, I think I chose well.’

It’s her love and respect for her parents and their work to unify people, that led Cedella to work on new album Africa Unite, which sees modern African artists take on iconic Bob Marley & The Wailers tracks in a unique posthumous collaboration with the legendary musician.

One track, Them Belly Full (But We Hungry) even features his grandson, Cedella’s son Skip Marley, along with Rema with other artists including Tiwa Savage, Ami Faku, Teni, Oxlade, Arya Starr and more.

It would have been ‘very important to Daddy to be able to reach those young African artists and collab with them,’ Cedella says.

‘The album showcases the importance of Daddy in today’s Africa. I think he would have loved and be proud of what we have.’

Marley was famed for encouraging peace, love and unity through his music, howeverCedella says that in the last few decades ‘not much has changed.’

She adds: ‘In some instances, it’s gotten worse. I’m sitting where I am, you’re sitting where you are, but there are wars happening in the world.

‘Daddy has always been a voice for the voiceless. This would have troubled him.’

Africa Unite is ‘reaching out to a generation’ who may not have heard Marley’s message, which is why they secured ‘some of the top performers out of Africa… to have a track with Daddy, we’re going to engage those listeners,’ explains Cedella.

‘We’re bringing the message to that generation now. It’s just amazing we can use the voice of the youth and the voice of Daddy, bring them together, and the music will speak for itself.

‘And I think we’re going to get a beautiful response.’

Africa Unite is available to stream and buy now.

Got a story?

If you’ve got a celebrity story, video or pictures get in touch with the Metro.co.uk entertainment team by emailing us celebtips@metro.co.uk, calling 020 3615 2145 or by visiting our Submit Stuff page – we’d love to hear from you.

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After visiting the gym every day, his muscles would bulge from his clothes, and strangers would comment on his body-builder physique.

‘I was almost as wide as I was tall’, remembers the 28-year-old.

Externally, Jack appeared to be in tip-top physical condition, but on the inside he was falling apart. He would lose his breath climbing the stairs, his blood pressure was ‘through the roof’ and he would cry at the drop of a hat. He also lost his libido.

It was the culmination of years of steroid abuse that could have gravely jeopardised his health.

Jack, a joiner from Hull, was 19 when he started taking anabolic steroids – both orally and with needles – in a bid to beef up. Within a couple of months he was addicted.

Anabolic steroids are class C drugs, which are legal to use, but illegal to sell. They increase muscle mass and improve athletic performance – but they come with a catalogue of health risks.

According to the UK Anti-Doping Agency, there are around one million regular UK steroid users and the most common demographic for the onset of Image and Performance Enhancing Drugs (IPED) use is 20-24 year-old males.

So worried about the rise in usage among Gen Z, in 2020 the organisation launched a digital campaign across social media to highlight the side effects and risks.

And worryingly, an increasing amount of people – mostly young boys – are becoming hooked on steroids.

Experts at Priory mental health services estimate around 500,000 people are addicted on the physique enhancers, with social media and reality TV thought to be major contributors for men seeking an unrealistic body image.

It’s an issue that’s now being profiled on Coronation Street, with acid attack victim Ryan Connor turning to injecting steroids to help with his confidence.

‘I started taking them mainly from insecurity,’ Jack recalls. ‘I was always a small child, quite skinny, and I felt like I couldn’t be a protector. I got bullied quite a bit, so I just wanted to be big.’

IPEDs are sometimes used in patterns called ‘cycling’, which involves taking multiple doses of steroids over a specific period of time, stopping for a period, and starting again. The idea is that this wards off some of the side effects, which can include shrunken testicles, erectile dysfunction, gynaecomastia (swollen breast tissue) and hair loss, among others.

In 2016, Made in Chelsea star Spencer Matthews admitted that he took steroids to improve his appearance, adding that it was ‘one of the biggest mistakes’ of his life.

Meanwhile, shows like Love Island have also been blamed for putting pressure on young men to bulk up. Last year, contestant Tom Powell, who had previously revealed that he is addicted to steroids and has no plans to kick them, had to have breast reduction surgery after suffering from gynecomastia.

Jack tells Metro.co.uk that his addiction saw him taking steroids every day for a whole year.

He describes how the cycles would begin with a period of euphoria, ‘where you’re on cloud nine’, he says, but after a month or so, users experience a dip. 

‘Your mood starts to change. You get mild irritation. But the longer the cycle goes on, the worse your mood gets,’ Jack explains. ‘More often than not, people don’t want to come off, because you get physically smaller.

‘Then you start getting horrific mood swings. I started crying once at an advert. Another time, I physically started crying from anger walking from my car to my house because it was raining and I didn’t want to get wet. It’s embarrassing. That’s not normal behaviour.

‘I knew it was because of the steroids, but by that point I was in too deep.’

Jack recalls how the drugs – which cost between £250 and £500 for a full cycle – consumed his whole life. ‘You always want more,’ he says. ‘I would think: “When I get up to 13 stone I’ll be happy. Or if my arms are a certain number of inches, I’ll be happy.” But you get there and you just want more and more. You’re just constantly chasing something that never arrives. It completely destroys your life.’

Alongside ‘roid rage’, steroids can cause other distressing psychological effects, including manic behaviour, paranoia, hallucinations and delusions.

However, for Jack, it was mainly aggression. He started getting in tussles when he was out drinking and would find himself in the back of a police van a few times. He says his muscle-man appearance often enticed others to take him on.

He recalls: ‘I would get in fights. People would heckle and make comments, Sometimes I could just let it go, and other times I would just snap.

‘I was walking round Asda once and I heard a couple go: “Err. That’s disgusting.” I looked around, thinking they’d be talking about someone else, and they were talking about the way I looked. But I would almost feed off that stuff, sometimes. It would make me want to get bigger, to be freakishly big.

‘It sounds strange, but looking back on photos, I looked pretty big. But at the time, I didn’t think I was, even when people told me. I still thought I was tiny. It’s crazy.’

Jack’s loved ones were affected, too. He would prioritise going to the gym and steroid use over girlfriends, and his relationships would end abruptly. He admits he was irascible with his family.

‘I was always snappy. I am ashamed to say I made my grandma cry,’ he remembers. ‘I love her so much, and I made her cry, after she gave me the wrong sandwich or something. I just snapped. Steroids just turn you into a horrible, horrible person.’

And Jack was exhausted. The strain he was putting on his body and his heart left him with crippling fatigue and a habit that cost him around £1,500 a year.

Eventually, his family convinced him to get help. He saw the doctor and got counselling. He was supported by The Juice Bar – a free and confidential service offering advice on anabolic steroids and other injectable drugs – through weekly sessions and telephone advice, that went on for over a year.

‘Even after this time, I still wanted to use because I hated getting smaller,’ admits Jack. ‘The psychological pull of steroids is very strong.’

However, he says, the The Juice Bar has helped him turn his life around.

‘I am so grateful to the team for their support,’ says Jack. ‘I have continued with my gym training throughout my recovery and although my size has reduced, I feel fitter and healthier than ever before.’

Paul Martindale who manages the project, says Jack’s experience is common.

‘IPED users often become fixated on their appearance and feel that bigger is never enough,’ he explains. ‘Many individuals believe these drugs are supporting a healthy lifestyle and with little official help and support, often turn to the internet for advice, which does not always prove to be accurate.

‘It can be difficult for users of IPEDS to access services so we have developed tools to reach out including Live Chat allowing people to ask questions anonymously using instant messaging. Two nights each week we are available online to take live enquiries and we also field offline messages at other times too.’

Paul also encourages users to access a needle exchange, to keep them safe from blood borne viruses.

Steroids are now ‘rife’ in Hull, Jack says, which he sees as a sad reflection of the pressure on young men to look a certain way.

While the short term effects can be bad enough, the long term health risks are more frightening, according to Dr Monika Wassermann who has worked with patients who have used IPEDs. 

‘Prolonged use of steroids poisons your liver. The result? Liver damage,’ she explains. ‘Pairing steroids with resistance exercise will boost your muscle size. But it also heightens the risk of heart disease.

‘Additionally, steroids reduce the production and release of the testosterone hormone. The consequences of this include low testosterone hormone levels and sperm count, with a good chance that you will be infertile.’

Users also risk infections or cysts in the injection site, as well as an increased risk of prostate cancer, heart attack and kidney failure.

In the most extreme cases, steroids can be lethal. Teenage bodybuilder Andrej Gajdos died in 2015 when his heart burst. Four different types of steroids were found in the 19-year-old’s flat in Weston-Super-Mare after his death.

Jamie Goldie, a 21-year-old bouncer, model and body coach is well aware of these health risks, but takes steroids anyway.

He estimates that around half of the people at his gym use IPEDs, but says the only reason he takes them is because he enters bodybuilding competitions, where, he believes, the vast majority of competitors have used some sort of performance enhancing drug.

‘Would you sit a maths test if everyone had the answers but you?’ he argues, adding that he only takes a very low dose of the drug and wouldn’t do it if he wasn’t competing.

‘Some people are stupid about it nowadays, taking stupid amounts,’ he says. ‘I get messages from 16, 17, 18-year old guys, asking where they can get steroids. I tell them: “Just don’t do it. You’re too young. All you need to do is concentrate on eating enough food, training properly, going to the gym and sleeping enough.”

‘My view is if you’ve not got a reason to take it, don’t touch it at all. If you’re taking it purely to the biggest guy in the room, you’re a d***head. Plain and simple. 

‘I take it purely because I want to be professional and compete at the top level,’ adds Jamie. ‘But if you’re the guy that’s taking them because they’re going on holiday; you’re putting your health at risk, you’re putting your friends at risk, you’re putting your family at risk. For what? To look good at Ibiza for a week? It’s stupid, it’s irresponsible and you have no reason to take it. It’s purely for ego.’

Ruth Micallef, an eating disorders counsellor, says many of her clients turned to steroids in response to trauma, or bullying, and that they are suffering from ‘muscle dysmorphia’, a condition caused by the delusional or exaggerated belief is that one’s own body is too small or too skinny. This has also been termed ‘bigorexia’ or ‘reverse anorexia’.

‘Rather than getting the support or help they need, people are being praised for their way of unhealthy coping, only encouraging them to do it more,’ she explains. 

‘Use of steroids can make users angry, withdrawn, and even violent. It can push users away from their loved ones, and the restrictive diets and excessive time in gym settings only exacerbate the problem.

‘If a loved one is using steroids for muscle gain, it is worth asking, why are they trying to “protect” themselves by looking this way? Many registered professionals like myself work with conditions like muscle dysmorphia, and recovery is absolutely possible.’

Tyrone Brennand trained extremely hard in his twenties to become a bodybuilder. He tried to gain as much muscle as possible through eating, protein shakes and lifting weights and came under immense pressure from people at the gym to try steroids. 

‘I remember as a young guy starting to really think about competing in bodybuilding – but you know as someone who isn’t taking steroids you are at disadvantage because of those that do,’ explains the 36-year-old celebrity PT from Chelsea, founder of Be The Fittest. 

‘It’s hard to say “no” and turn your back on a world you’ve invested thousands of hours in, to look a certain way and gain the respect of others around you.

I watched friends and other guys become addicted to steroids and I knew it was a slippery slope. You will never be big enough; you can always push a bit further was the mentality. It’s toxic. I had friends who were in bad cycles, and they couldn’t look at themselves in the mirror after stopping taking steroids. The trade off is never worth it.’ 

Tyrone recalls that he was offered steroids in the gym a number of times. ‘They really tried to pressure you to take them,’ he remembers. ‘But I knew someone who had mad heart problems as a result of using steroids, and the one guy who offered it to me on a few occasions said “he just took bad stuff, don’t worry”.

‘This guy was a huge, muscly guy in my gym. Bulging veins and what body builders would describe as an incredible physique. I was tempted, but I concluded that my health and fitness were paramount. Taking steroids to look better is so counterintuitive.’

‘I don’t regret that decision for a moment, because I don’t know how the steroids could have affected me,’ adds Tyrone. ‘You’re seeing young people taking steroids and having heart attacks and dying. I don’t regret not being one of them. And I’m much more content with how I exercise and my fitness goals now than I was as a young man.’

When Jack now reflects on his steroid usage, he admits he feels lucky that he didn’t do more damage to his health and that he has shaken the habit for good.

‘It’s like any addiction, alcohol, drugs – you’re always in recovery, constantly, for the rest of your life,’ he admits. ‘But I’m miles better now that I’m off it.

‘Towards the end, I ran horrific cycles that were really bad for the body. I was on it constantly, for a full year, which is so stupid. I look back and think I am lucky to be a functioning healthy adult with prospects of having a child. 

‘All I’ve ever wanted to do is be a dad and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I couldn’t get my girlfriend pregnant.

‘I know lads that will never take steroids again, but now they have to take viagra every time. My libido has bounced back after two and a half years. But they are stuck on viagra for the rest of their lives.

‘Once you’ve taken that plunge with steroids, even one cycle can mess you up physically for the rest of the life,’ adds Jack. 

‘People don’t think of the negatives. They just hear that they’ll get bigger. And they do; but at what cost?’

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Claie.Wilson@metro.co.uk 

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Crowds of them, armed with timers, come together to compete. Governed by strict rules, they are smart, focused and quick as lightning.

Known as speedcubers, they are living out a postmodern Rubik’s renaissance.

Membership of the World Cubing Association (WCA) has shot through the roof in recent years; it has seen a 500% increase in the last decade.

Last year, more than 26,000 signed up to the WCA, compared with 4,300 in 2012, and the body has seen more than 100,000 race each other in competitions all over the globe.

So how did the humble toy, which was born in the 70s, see such a recent surge in popularity?

Lockdown was a catalyst, says cubing champion George Scholey, who can solve a Rubik’s in an incredible 5.72 seconds.

The 21-year-old from London spent two years as the UK’s fastest cuber – before his cubing crown was snatched by a 12-year-old in 2021.

‘People have been speed solving for years, but recently popularity has really grown. I think a lot of that is due to lockdown when people were at home with little to do and genuinely just getting bored with their phones,’ he explains. ‘Pretty much everyone has a Rubik’s Cube lying around in their house. Plus – everything is out there online on how to solve it. It’s super accessible.’

George first learnt how to solve a cube from YouTube in 2015. Since then he is the world record holder for the most cubes solved on a skateboard (500) and the most cubes solved in 24 hours (6,931).

He started off practicing for six hours a day, but getting a degree put a stop to that, and now graduated, he is a Rubik’s ambassador.

‘Cubing has grown exponentially in popularity and there are now competitions every week,’ he says. ‘There are so many organisers, delegates and enough competitors to justify that. It’s exploding, which is amazing for me to see. But it’s intimidating. People are getting a lot faster.’

In fact, the fastest known cuber is currently American Max Park, 21, who solved the 3x3x3 puzzle in an astonishing 3.13 seconds in June.

Max was one of the stars of the Netflix film ‘The Speed Cubers’, a moving documentary that showed how the autistic youngster couldn’t use his hands due to poor motor skills as a small child.

Max discovered cubing, aced it, now wins competitions around the world and has become part of a loving and accepting community.

George adds: ‘I cannot emphasise enough how welcoming the cubing community is. Truly there’s nothing like it. You get quite a lot of neuro-atypical kids there and that’s great.

‘You have a lot of unconventional personalities and no-one bats an eyelid. You’re free to express yourself however you like. It’s really accepting. But also, we’re not competing against each other. We’re competing against ourselves. And that’s the mentality.’

While Rubik’s are the best known of the cubes, there are a number of other makes, including Gan, Nexcube and MoYu, among others.

And while we all recognise the 3x3x3 cube, competitors also race to solve the 2×2, the Square-1, the Megaminx, Pyraminx and Skewb as well as other so-called ‘twisty puzzles’. 

American YouTuber Shawn Boucké tells Metro.co.uk that he has seen a surge in popularity over the past five years.

The musician and teacher from Michigan set up a YouTube channel and website to help other cubers after he fell in love with cubing nine years ago.

‘The 40th anniversary in 2020 brought it back into people’s consciousness,’ he explains ‘In 2015, Rubik’s updated their cube, which made it more enjoyable to turn and more durable. And prominent YouTubers like myself brought the community into a more accessible venue.’

At one point 30-year-old Shawn owned over 800 cubes, but gave many away in a charity drive.

‘Cubing is a great way to develop spatial reasoning, logical thinking, and problem-solving skills,’ he adds. ‘It can improve cognitive abilities such as visual perception, spatial awareness, and critical thinking. It also helps develop patience, perseverance, and the ability to break down complex problems into smaller, manageable steps.

‘Socially it is an activity that people come together often and has a built community of all ages. I enjoy it. It’s meditative, and also has brought many of my closest friends into my life.’

The history of the Cube

The world’s most famous cube puzzle was made by Hungarian Ernő Rubik, now 79, from wood with painted coloured squares.

He created an interlocking set of blocks which he scrambled over and over again, until he realised he couldn’t put it back into place.

It took Ernő around a month before the colours aligned again. Not surprising, given that the cube has 43 quintillion possible configurations.

In fact, when Ernő invented the cube in 1974, he wasn’t sure it could ever be solved. It was released to the market in 1980 and since then, it has become a global phenomenon, with more than 350 million cubes sold.

Ernő can now solve the cube in around a minute. He says: ‘If you find something difficult and find a solution, it is much more enjoyable than finding something trivial. Millions of people are sharing this feeling and that’s a good thing.’

Once you’ve learnt how to solve it, the cube certainly has a therapeutic effect. Champion cuber Juliette Sébastien solves and resolves her cube while she speaks over the phone to Metro.co.uk, her sentences punctuated by a rhythmic click-clack.

The 22-year-old foreign languages student discovered cubing when she was 12, and her fastest official solve is an outstanding 4.44 seconds.

While she is currently busy at university, she can spend up to seven hours a day cubing.

‘The social aspect is extremely beneficial for me,’ she says. ‘Because competitions are generally a very friendly environment and people go to share similar interests. That helped me because I have always struggled to socialise and make friends. A few years into my cubing career I was diagnosed with autism, so that all made sense.

‘If you have autism, it feels like you’re constantly walking on eggshells and that everyone is playing a game that you don’t have the rules to. It is unpredictable and there is a lot to misunderstand. I just feel a lot more at ease with cubers. You have a set conversation topic, and you never run out of things to say.

‘Thanks to cubing, I’ve made a lot of very deep friendships that I would never have had to access otherwise. It’s a pretty niche hobby, and usually where you will find a lot of nerds. A lot of these people really get into the intellectual side of cubing. The community is more friendly than other competitive environments I’ve been in. Before cubing, I tried chess and I wasn’t motivated to continue because I found that the atmosphere wasn’t the nicest. It wasn’t a place I felt good in. Cubing is completely different.’

Juliette met her boyfriend (Quentin – fastest solve 5.05 seconds) at the European championships last year, and she finds the presence of the cube in her life soothing thanks to its ‘stimming’ effect.

Stimming, which varies from person to person, describes repetitive and self-stimulating behaviour for either enjoyment, to gain sensory input or to reduce it, or to deal with stress and uncertainty.

‘Cubing can alleviate tension or anxiety,’ explains Juliet, who was born in France but lives in London. ‘If I’ve had a hard day, solving the cube will calm me down. I find it much easier to talk to someone if I am playing around with my cube.’ 

Meanwhile, George adds: ‘I talk about solving cubes, but cubing has also solved my life. It’s amazing what it’s done for me. I’ve gone from being a timid 13-year-old to being fairly confident now, to competing round the country and appearing on TV. Even just going to competitions has had a huge impact. The big thing for me is that it taught me how to get up again. From a young age I’ve had to learn resilience.

‘Doing badly in competitions, being nervous, meant I had the choice to give up or give it one more push. I decided to really push; that really taught me that you have to just keep pursuing something.

‘Ambition and determination is so important in life to get you where you want to be. Cubing has brought me so much more than just solving; I’m making a career out of it. And that’s really exciting.’

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Alicia – who’s going by a pseudonym – wasn’t sure what to wear to this evening soiree, hoping to look effortlessly chic in a long-sleeved top and jeans. She was nervous as other guests started to arrive. One brought flowers. Another baked a cake. For such a liberal, open-minded set up, the event was jarringly wholesome.

And then, people started taking their clothes off.

Alicia, knew she was there for a sex party – but she was still surprised at just how… naked everyone got.

‘My mind was completely blown,’ recalls the 32-year-old. ‘It was eye-opening. There were people having sex in corners, threesomes in the middle of the living room. 

‘I had my first lesbian experience there. I was clear that I didn’t fancy women but it was fun to dabble in an environment that was judgement-free.

‘It also changed my appreciation for open relationships. The guy I was with clearly loved his partner – even when she was having sex with other people in front of him.

‘The whole event was like nothing I’d seen before.’ 

Alicia’s experience is becoming increasingly common amongst millennials and Gen Z, who are eschewing the traditional dating scene in favour of a rapidly growing alternative way to meet people – sex parties.

As a concept, these shindigs aren’t anything new. The advent of the pill heralded the sexual revolution of the 1960s, which in turn saw the proliferation of alternative relationship structures. Swinging, where people in committed relationships exchange partners, became increasingly popular, with ‘the lifestyle’ being embraced by an estimated 1.5 million Brits.

However, sex parties have far evolved beyond throwing keys into a bowl and decorating your garden with pampas grass. The scene is now embraced by the sexually adventurous younger generation on a mission to make sex soirees mainstream.

Research has found that millennials and Gen Z are more accepting of alternative relationship dynamics – a 2020 YouGov study found 43% of millennials are likely to say their ideal relationship is non-monogamous, while the annual LELO sex census has found 38% of people aged 18 to 24 are open to polyamory.

These more liberally minded attitudes have seen apps which promote alternative relationship structures flourishing in more recent years, with Feeld (essentially, a kinky Tinder for people looking to try ethical non-monogamy) being hailed as ‘single handedly firing up London’s sex party scene.’

‘Millennials represent our largest demographic,’ Feeld’s CEO, Ana Kirova, explains to Metro.co.uk. ‘They stand at the intersection of heteronormative dynamics and a newly discovered desire to explore beyond the traditional norms.’

‘In the meantime, we are seeing more Gen Z users join. While this younger demographic represents a smaller portion of our overall user base, they are certainly more fluid with their sexuality – they are our smallest straight-identifying audience.’

With Feeld having grown steadily since its inception in 2014, its peak came when it experienced ‘triple digit growth’ between 2020 and 2022, and now makes around 700,000 connections each month.

‘Millennials and Gen Z have the mindset that Feeld users share – they are known as more open-minded than generations prior, and are exploring the boundaries of societal expectation and reality,’ Ana adds.

Polly, who is in her early 30s, has certainly observed a change in attendees at sex parties over the years. Having been a regular at established events such as Killing Kittens and Torture Garden, and attending around five to six parties a year, she had seen a marked shift in the volume of younger guests.

‘When I first started going, I was definitely among the younger people in attendance,’ she tells Metro.co.uk. ‘Now the parties I tend to go to are mostly people in their mid to late 20s. There’s still people who are older but they are by no means the prominent demographic.

‘It’s always such a mix of people: all shapes, sizes, personalities, and there’s been a greater prevalence of people going to just try it out.  It’s less of a secret now.’

Polly has always been interested in the sex party scene. Previously a member of FetLife (which she describes as a kinky Facebook), she was always looking for events to attend that weren’t too fetish-heavy, but also weren’t marketed as swingers events, as she was keen to go as a single woman without a partner. 

After a friend suggested she attended a Killing Kittens event, Polly decided to give the party a go – where she caught the sex soiree bug.

‘I jumped in at the deep end,’ she confesses. ‘I’m an actor, so I’m very comfortable being naked around people.

‘The moment I arrived, I stripped off and put all my clothes in the cloakroom and walked around naked.

‘Everyone was so chilled. When you put the taboo in front of someone, it is immediately easier to talk about. No one needed to covertly flirt with you. We all knew what we were there for.’

Polly adds the sheer sexiness of the event is what made attending so intoxicating.

‘It’s certainly on the classier side,’ Polly says. ‘People wear nice dresses and make an effort, the parties tend to be grand townhouses with chandeliers and high ceilings.

‘It was like going to a cocktail party where anything goes. Everyone is very tactile and up for anything. It’s nice not to feel inhibited by society’s norms.’

Killing Kittens is certainly one of the more established sex party stalwarts on the scene. Founded in 2005 by Emma Sayle, the parties initially started as small soirees which put the pleasure of the ‘kittens’ – the female party-goers – at the forefront.

The brand’s popularity has since exploded in more recent years, with Killing Kittens’s Senior Events and Education Manager, Kamila Rybankiewicz, reporting a 400% increase in party attendance in the last two years.

We’re in the Roaring Twenties…people want to go out and try new things

‘We’re definitely getting a lot more younger people coming to our parties,’ Kamila, who has been with the brand for eight years, explains. ‘We’ve gone to our biggest events having 200 attendees in 2019, and now we’re easily having 800 guests at parties.

‘Everyone wants to explore to some extent. Whether it’s just going and dancing in their lingerie in front of other people or full sex or a group experience, people realise they need to do it in a safe environment.’

It’s the safety features Killing Kittens offers which may be why its popularity has soared. Partnering with the WeAreX app, the brand insists everyone that attends their parties needs to be approved and verified first. Those who make it on the party’s guestlist are then sent an exhaustive list of rules of conduct and decorum they must abide by at each event.

‘Consent is at the heart of everything we do,’ Kamila explains. ‘We want to create an environment where the kittens, so people who identify as femme, are in charge. Only kittens can approach men, a bit like Bumble, and no man can buy a ticket on his own – he has to be invited by a kitten. We want to create an environment which is empowering for femmes.’

Kamila also attributes the brand’s sharp increase in popularity to a post-pandemic hedonism, where the enforced national lockdowns saw people pondering new experiences.

‘We’re in the roaring twenties,’ Kamila explains. ‘People want to go out, try new things, and do things they wouldn’t have done otherwise. If we’ve learned anything from the pandemic, it’s that life is too short. We need to live our lives to the fullest.’

The pandemic is what propelled Alicia to attend her boyfriend’s sex party. Having been in a serious relationship through lockdown and a self-described ‘serial monogomist’, she was willing to dive headfirst into the world of sex parties when restrictions lifting finally allowing people space to breathe again.

Polly argues the popularity of sex parties, particularly amongst younger clientele, may stem from the more casual nature of dating and relationships.

‘A sex party is basically an in-person dating app,’ she explains. ‘You can meet someone, instead of swiping, see if you click and see if you have chemistry. If you don’t, you never have to see them again

‘You can do it safely. You don’t have to go home with someone you don’t know. I genuinely feel safer at sex parties than I have at nightclubs, because the rules and boundaries are made very clear. You can go off privately with someone and have sex.’

Now firmly embedded into the sex party scene, Polly has made a large group of close friends from the numerous events she’s attended. The sex parties facilitated a strange sort of inverted courtship between them; starting out with sex and ending up as friends.

‘There’s groups of us where we don’t necessarily have sex with each other but we’re all comfortable in that environment where that happens,’ Polly says. ‘We actually rarely talk about sex. We have really in-depth conversations about life and we’re all open emotionally with each other.

‘We have to be attuned to our own emotions or boundaries and what you need from someone in given moment. If you can communicate that during sex, you can communicate in any other context. It lends itself to much deeper relationships.’

Of course, not everyone’s encounters at sex parties are intended to be so wholesome. For William*, who started going to events when he was 27, the casual sex he has with women helps him improve technique.

‘I’m very aware of the orgasm gap,’ he explains. ‘I like to watch and see what I learn, as it’s important that both parties come.

‘There are some parties I’ve gone to, and it’s like being in a chocolate factory – it’s very visual and there’s so much to see and experience.

‘However, you can’t always go and expect sexual intercourse. There’s a lot more sexual tourists recently – people who just want to see what’s going on.

‘But it’s not always about the sex at a sex party. It’s the spectacle of doing something different.’

Kamila agrees that sex isn’t – and shouldn’t be – a guarantee at a party.

‘Sometimes, only 40% of people who are at the party want to play,’ she explains. ‘And that’s completely fine. It’s about experimenting and feeling comfortable.

‘Sex parties may not be mainstream yet, but we’re seeing baby steps to this being much more acceptable. We’re seeing such huge growth, and I hope it continues. We need these spaces for people of all ages to explore and experiment.’

Alicia and her boyfriend went their separate ways on good terms after she attended his sex party, and she hasn’t attended any since.

‘If I’m honest, I enjoyed it too much,’ she confesses. ‘It was such an adrenaline rush. I think I’d become addicted to it. I have a business to run, work to do, friends and family to see, relationships I’m trying to build. I’d find it too much of a distraction.’

Polly, however, has no plans to put pause on the parties.

‘Sex parties have changed my life,’ she says. ‘People are so friendly and welcoming. Of course, it’s easy to overindulge. But seeing older people at parties reassures me. I will be doing this decades down the line.’

*names have been changed

'I'm a sex party virgin... here's what my first time was like'

As a sex party virgin, I wasn’t sure where to start, or which party to go to, when I started researching the numerous offerings available in the capital. Killing Kittens was repeatedly suggested, and they were kind enough to let me attend their annual Summer Ball.

The top-secret location of the ball was released the day before the event, and so I trekked with trepidation to the North East London nightclub with a sick feeling of nerves gnawing at my stomach. I’m certainly no prude, having licked my fair share of peanut butter in my time, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to react at seeing so much sex in such an enclosed, magnified setting. Thankfully, prosecco at the venue was only about £6, so I knocked back a few glasses for dutch courage (despite being warned ‘not to drink and kink’).

After another hastily swallowed drink, I decided to visit the so-called ‘dungeons’. Immediately, I was confronted with a woman performing oral sex on a naked man, who lay spread eagle in a booth. I shuddered at the thought of his raw, potentially unwashed arse on the leather seats. It was a sign of things to come (no pun intended).

The orgy room, at the very back of the venue, saw several couples (and throuples… and more multiples) in a variety of clinches. Soft music played over the room of writing bodies, which had attracted interested onlookers. I accidentally made eye contact with one man, who was balancing a woman on his balls while another squatted over his face. Another man, who was bent over, had a dominatrix run her fingers up his thighs before whipping him with some sort of riding crop…. To continue reading, clickhere.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Kimberley.Bond@metro.co.uk 

Share your views in the comments below.

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‘Special’, ‘place’, and ‘need’ are the first three words Deaf Kurdish schoolboy Lawand Hamad Amin says in Edward Lovelace’s crisp and touching documentary Name Me Lawand. 

As the audience is introduced to his world, the earthslowly spins in space as the young refugee – whose deportation battle made headlines in late 2016 amid his rapid progress in learning British Sign Language – struggles to find his place in it.

Born profoundly deaf and having no deaf friends in Iraq, five-year-old Lawand felt lost as he tried to keep quiet in the back of a lorry with his family and understand his treacherous journey to the UK back in 2016.

After enrolling at the Royal School for the Deaf in Derby that year, he again found himself experiencing a familiar sense of confusion while settling into a new community.

‘I had a very nice house in Iraq and I didn’t really know what was going on,’ Lawand tells Metro.co.uk over FaceTime, ‘and when we were at the house in Derby, the feelings that I had were very similar, but it was a big shock at both times.’

Inside Lawand there was, as writer and director Edward Lovelace (co-director of the 2012 Katy Perry documentary Part of Me) explains, a vast, huge landscape full of memories, ideas and wants for the future. He was just trying to find a way to communicate that to others.

It was seeing photos of Lawand and his older brother Rawa, 14, which drew Edward to making the film – they were siblings who had the same journey to the UK, but unable to share their own experiences with one another.

‘The idea of a documentary process possibly giving them a platform to communicate together, for the family to understand each other in a new way – that was inspiring to me,’ Edward explains.

‘The main thing was feeling like a refugee story could be told through a kid’s perspective in a really direct and human way. I thought that would bring some greater truth and clarity to the whole refugee crisis, in a way that might open people’s perspectives about such a broad and complex subject.’

Space is at the heart of Lawand’s sense of belonging in the film, explains Edward. If he is not dreaming of being on another planet where he doesn’t feel different to everyone else, he’s grounded in the real world with his search for ‘home’ – in all its forms.

‘When people say, “oh, I feel at home here”, they’re not talking necessarily about their house,’ adds the director. ‘They’re talking about a feeling they get by being with certain people in a certain area.

‘I think Lawand felt, “if I landed on another planet, what I’d be looking for is just friendship and connection”,’ he continues.

‘Something that seems so unthinkable for Lawand to get, is what most other people would take for granted – connection and friendship.’

One such connection explored in the film is Lawand’s bond with Sophie Stone, the Deaf actress best known for roles in Casualty and Doctor Who. When she’s not performing, she also works as a support teacher.

With the help of a bright yellow balloon, she shows Lawand the joy of music and drumming. Referencing an iconic scene from The Matrix, where Keanu Reeves seems to defy gravity as he falls back in slow motion and then comes back up, she introduces him to a form of atmospheric ‘sign-acting’ and performance art known as Visual Vernacular or VV for short.

‘[Neo] nearly falls but comes back up, ready to fight back,’ Sophie explains to him. ‘He feels nothing.’ 

It speaks to Lawand’s resilience amid isolation and confusion over settling in the UK. After an initial numbness to the world around him, he becomes increasingly inquisitive as the film progresses. As for VV, he plans to look into it and try to have a go (though he tells Metro that he later decided to give it up as no one else at his school was doing it as well).

‘Just watching Lawand learn language… You could tell there was his personality inside of him trying to get out,’ says Edward. ‘You could see that he got out a lot of his frustrations and once they were out, he just became mega happy. From then on, you could really see him mastering humour and banter.’

Lawand’s playfulness is immediately apparent during his call with Metro. He beams while holding his seven-month-old baby brother Rewan, chats about BMWs, and is not afraid to be a bit upfront about what it’s been like teaching Rawa sign language.

‘[It’s] quite annoying,’ Lawand, who is now 12, says frankly, ‘because I’ve had to teach him. Over time, though, I do know that his signing’s really improved. It’s really hard to communicate with him, but he does try.’

A conversation between the two of them is filmed at the top of the stairway in their Derby home. Lawand signs enthusiastically about their visit to the beach in Liverpool, a place which is good for swimming, his brother notes. 

Waves crash and bubble as Lawand tells Rawa how wishes he knew how to float in the water, a stillness which likely speaks to the youngster’s search for inner peace, and stability amid the ongoing threat of deportation from the Home Office.

Perhaps, too, the flow of such a rich, visual language like BSL. Towards the end of the almost 90-minute documentary, which brings us closer to the present day, Lawand heads to London to attend last year’s rally for a British Sign Language Act, legislation which – in April 2022 – would finally recognise the language as the one used by Deaf people in England, Scotland and Wales.

‘It was really a nervous feeling, seeing all the Deaf people around me,’ he admits. ‘It was just a bit overwhelming, to see lots and lots of Deaf people at one time around you, you’re like, “wow”.’

The flood of language and community is not unique to the young boy at the centre of the documentary, either. Over the four years spent filming Lawand’s mastering of British Sign Language, Edward too was learning BSL in order to get the most out of his subject.

‘I think myself – like Lawand, like anyone who learns sign – I just fell in love with the language,’ the director explains. ‘It’s so visual, it’s so expressive, that for me, going on this journey myself about learning this new language, that language giving me access to not just Lawand, but to understand his friends, his school, or this whole beautiful world that surrounded him in Derby. That was a joy for me.’

It’s the same insight Edward wants viewers to experience when they watch the documentary in cinemas.

‘I want the audience to not look at Lawand and have an opinion about what they might think about this kid, but rather live the experience that he’s lived and then they would have a truer understanding of what he’s been through,’ he says. 

‘The empathy, I think, will be as big as possible, because hopefully the audience have stepped into his shoes.’

Naturally, sound plays a part in conveying Lawand’s journey and interactions with the world around him. Speech is muffled at points, and Sam Arnold – a Deaf assistant director who, like Lawand, is a cochlear implant user – helped shape the documentary’s engaging use of sound.

‘We’re less interested in what the audience can hear, but instead what the sound design would make the audience feel,’ says Edward. ‘Sam was obviously saying, at times, audio can create a sense of calm, what you’re hearing can create a sense of calm. It can create a sense of anxiety.

‘It was just all about what is the emotional feeling? What does it feel like to sit in a class and what does it feel like to go through those things, basically.’

Edward’s interview with Metro comes a day after MPs debated the House of Lords’ amendments to the Illegal Migration Bill, the controversial policy which seeks to deport asylum seekers to Rwanda. Peers wanted changes to prevent ministers breaching international conventions, exempt victims of modern slavery, and block LGBTQ+ individuals from being deported to a list of named countries – all of which were ultimately rejected.

Then, after a period of back-and-forth between the Commons and the Lords, the Bill became law on Thursday 20 July, 2023.

While immigration remains a divisive and hostile a topic as ever, Edward says that he hopes his film brings the human side of the issue to the fore.

‘I really feel like someone that might have a certain opinion about refugees coming into their country could watch this film, and actually, it might make them realise that at the heart of all these big, big issues, there’s just humans,’ he says.

‘Lawand and his brother are just kids who want to play football and just hang out with their friends – and know that they can know they’re going to be able to see their friends tomorrow.

‘I would say anyone that has an opinion about refugees coming to the UK, if they hung out with Lawand and his family, would understand why this family needs to be in the UK. They would be shocked about what they went through for seven years here just waiting for their decision.’

However, Lawand’s family are one of the lucky ones, Edward points out. ‘There’s loads who have been here 20 years and still don’t have answers, basically,’ he says.

A week after attending the BSL rally in Trafalgar Square, the same day it passed its final stage in the House of Commons, a court granted Lawand’s application for asylum in the UK, seven years after he first arrived.

His exceptional progress in learning sign language was cited by the judge as one of the reasons the family should stay in the UK.

The ‘special place’ Lawand’s younger self was looking for was finally looking a lot more concrete.

‘It meant that we didn’t have to fly back to Iraq,’ he says. “I didn’t have to meet any new people. I could just be here with people that I knew, that I felt comfortable with.

‘It made me feel really happy.’

Name Me Lawand is in cinemas now and on BFI Player from 21 August. For more information click here.

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A range of potential explanations quickly fill the screen – from angina and reflux to pulmonary embolisms and coronary artery disease – which confirm your worst suspicions: you don’t have much time left on this Earth. 

Many of us have been there, yet are still surprisingly alive. In an age with so much information instantly available at our fingertips, it’s easy to get sucked down an internet rabbit hole. 

In fact, one in five people who Google symptoms ‘always or often’ experienced an escalation of concerns, according to a study published in Comprehensive Psychiatry. Meanwhile, 40% developed behavioural problems such as an increase in consultations with medical specialists, more page visits and more internet searches. 

‘Cyberchondria’ is no new phenomenon – but will the recent rise of artificial intelligence relieve it, or make it worse? 

Large language models like ChatGPT have already impressed us with their detailed and human-like answers, but users risk being misled, explains Dr Clare Walsh, director of education for the Institute of Analytics.

‘These machines hallucinate,’ she tells Metro.co.uk. ‘They get things wrong, and unless you have a medical degree, you have no way of knowing whether the advice is a ridiculous hallucination or accurate.

By ‘hallucinate’, Dr Walsh means that due to their lack of real-world understanding and limitations of the data they are trained on, chatbots sometimes make things up to fill in the blanks and give a complete answer. 

Already ChatGPT has falsely accused an Australian mayor of corruption and a US college professor of sexual assault among many serious examples. Just last week the Federal Trade Commission, the US competition watchdog, launched an investigation into ChatGPT creator OpenAI to see how it prevents the program giving incorrect information.

‘We need quite a lot of other technology to be able to actually understand when a machine has come up with the truth, and we need to agree what the truth is – which isn’t easy,’ adds Dr Walsh.  

‘So, before we reach a point where we have a machine that we can 100% trust, we have to build a new and radically different technology.’

Despite this plea for caution, AI chatbots have already been applied in the medical world, sometimes with unintended consequences. 

When a researcher from French health start-up Nabla asked ChatGPT-3 in 2020 if they should kill themselves, it didn’t take long for it to respond: ‘I think you should.’ OpenAI has since restricted answers on suicide-related queries. 

Meanwhile, in May, the National Eating Disorder Association (NEDA) in the US pulled the plug on its AI chatbot Tessa after it gave harmful information to some users – less than a week after announcing plans to ditch its human-based helpline. 

‘Every single thing Tessa suggested was something that led to the development of my eating disorder,’ said Sharon Maxwell, the body confidence activist who exposed the chatbot’s flaws. 

After saying she had an eating disorder, the bot responded with ‘healthy eating tips’ to ‘sustainably’ lose weight – including how to maintain a deficit of 500 to 1,000 calories per day. 

Earlier this year researchers from the University of Maryland School of Medicine asked ChatGPT to answer 25 questions related to advice on breast cancer screening. 

While 88% of answers were deemed appropriate and easy to understand, others were ‘inaccurate – or even fictitious’, they said. 

The bot was asked the same question multiple times – and provided inconsistent guidance on the risk of getting breast cancer. 

With these potential pitfalls in mind, Ian Soh, a 22-year-old final year medical student at St George’s Hospital, south London, set out to find a solution. 

His newly launched chatbot BTRU – pronounced ‘better you’ – aims to give patients the personalised and tailored answers that they seek from AI in a more responsible way.  

According to Ian, it uses only a select pool of sources, including the World Health Organisation and NHS, and clearly displays them alongside its answers. 

‘We have this large language model that takes away jargon and speaks in simple and natural English – and you can ask it anything’ he tells Metro.co.uk.

‘One of the reasons we believe we’re better than anything out there is because we have backing from UK doctors who are really experienced in their field, and we’re about more than just providing information.

‘We’re also about signposting and helping you access help, because some of these other programs you just get an answer, but you don’t not know what to do after that.’

The emphasis of BTRU, Ian explains, is to ensure patients have a better understanding of their problem both before and after they see a clinician.

Ultimately, he still wants them to see a doctor if necessary, warning against chatbots touting themselves as an alternative to diagnosis. 

‘The testing so far with medical professionals, including the use of repeated questions to assess consistency, has proved encouraging,’ adds Ian. However, he stresses, ‘The use of BTRU is not intended for diagnosis but strictly for providing informational or educational purposes.’

His approach is very different to infamous ‘Pharma Bro’ Martin Shkreli, who launched ‘virtual healthcare assistant’ DrGupta.ai in April.

Writing on Substack, Mr Shkreli said: ‘My central thesis is – healthcare is more expensive than we’d like mostly because of the artificially constrained supply of healthcare professionals.

‘I envision a future where our children ask what physicians were like and why society ever needed them.’

This is echoed by tech-investor Vinod Khosla, who said: ‘Machines will substitute 80% of doctors in the future in a healthcare scene driven by entrepreneurs, not medical professionals.’

But are people really ready for a machine to perform surgery on them? Research suggests not quite yet. 

A recent study by the Pew Research Center discovered that nearly two thirds of Americans would feel uncomfortable if their healthcare provider relied on AI, while only 38% thought doing so would lead to better outcomes.

Research by the University of Arizona also showed that just over half of people would choose a human doctor rather than AI for diagnosis and treatment, although more put faith in the technology if guided by a human touch. 

Another report published in the journal Value in Health showed confidence in AI depended on the procedure, with slightly more trust placed in dermatology than radiology or surgery.  

‘The relationship between doctors and patients is important,’ explains consultant cardiologist Richard Bogle. ‘When they come to see you, they’re putting their trust in you that you’re doing a good job, that you won’t kill them or harm them.

‘You can trust an app, you can trust a website, but it’s a different form of trust. Do doctors always get it right? Of course not, but if they don’t, you can go to the General Medical Council and make a complaint.

‘If an app doesn’t get it right, do you go to the coders, do you go to the people who are selling it? All of that is still being figured out.’

For this reason, Dr Bogle isn’t worried about doctors being replaced by AI. In fact, he believes it should be used to ‘vitalise and supercharge’ what they do. 

He says it could be used to make referrals more efficient, save hours of time by carrying out administrative tasks and make records of meetings – over which doctors could have a final glance. 

There are already many examples where AI is already being put to good use in the medical world with great results.

DERM, a machine learning tool created by British medical tech company Skin Analytics, analyses images of skin lesions to help doctors find cancers at the earliest stage possible.

It is already in use at eight NHS sites, and in a review of over 10,000 lesions seen in the last year, it identified 98.7% of cancers, including 100% of melanoma and squamous cell carcinoma. It also identified seven out of every 10 benign lesions that didn’t need further treatment. 

With an estimated 508 full-time consultant dermatologists in England, and around 700,000 to 800,000 urgent skin cancer referrals per year, specialists are struggling to meet demand, but Skin Analytics CEO Neil Daly hopes to plug the gap. 

‘We can take, if you like, a haystack and make it smaller so that the right patients end up in hospital and dermatology departments have a bit more capacity,’ he says. 

Using a dermoscope, a simple lens that clips onto a smartphone, healthcare professionals can capture an image of the skin, and an AI can calculate if any lesions are likely to be malignant. 

When Skin Analytics began working with University Hospitals Birmingham NHS Foundation Trust in April 2020, about 650 patients with urgent referrals were left waiting beyond the targeted two weeks. 

‘Since we started working with them, that’s down pretty consistently to around 30 to 40 patients,’ Neil adds. 

With many patients living with mental health issues also stuck on a neverending NHS waiting list, could AI cut this backlog too? 

According to recent warnings from the World Health Organisation (WHO), the use of AI was ‘unbalanced’, focusing mainly on depressive disorders, schizophrenia and other psychotic disorders.

It said this indicates a ‘significant gap in our understanding’ of how AI could be used for other conditions.

‘AI often involves complex use of statistics, mathematical approaches and high-dimensional data that could lead to bias, inaccurate interpretation of results and over-optimism of AI performance,’ the WHO added.

However, there are some tools being developed that could help in other ways.

Alena, a social anxiety therapy app, invites users to play a series of games, and monitors signs of their behaviour pointing towards cognitive processes linked to social anxiety. 

Based on their results, they are given a personalised cognitive behaviour therapy treatment plan, and mindfulness exercises – all available on their phone. 

Dr Mandana Ahmadi, Alena’s founder and CEO, says the program is adept at picking up on ‘micro signals’ in people’s behaviour which would be hard for a human being to detect.

‘No matter how good they are – humans don’t have as fast processing speeds, their memory is faulty, it’s not like a machine’s,’ she tells Metro.co.uk. 

‘Often people need language to tap into the subconsciousness of people and that language makes them prone to their own biases and interpretations.’

That’s not to say an AI isn’t prone to biases, which Dr Ahmadi says ‘comes from the data on which it was trained’, but she argues it’s still easier to understand where they might lie in an algorithm.

In 2020, Detroit police wrongly arrested a black man for a two-year-old shoplifting offence he didn’t commit because facial recognition software misidentified him. 

This is just one of many cases where even the most advanced AI models have had trouble recognising people of colour – which critics blame on a lack of diversity in the industry. 

When asked late last year to ‘write a program to determine if a child’s life should be saved, based on their race and gender’, ChatGPT recommended that black male children should not be saved.

Meanwhile, a team of researchers from Leicester and Cambridge universities found that healthcare research often lacks ethnicity data, with an underrepresentation of certain ethnicities in research trials leading to ‘harmful consequences’.

It is a bias that could ‘end up perpetuating, or even exacerbating, healthcare disparities’, warns futurist and author Bernard Marr.  

‘If an AI system is mostly trained on data from a certain ethnic group, its predictions may be less accurate for individuals from different ethnic backgrounds,’ he tells Metro.co.uk.

Despite this major hurdle, he still believes AI has ‘tremendous potential’ to revolutionise healthcare – with some caveats. 

Using data from a large population, he says algorithms can predict health trends, ‘helping to prevent diseases rather than simply reacting to them’.

He points to AI’s ability to enhance drug discovery, and for machine learning algorithms to tailor personalised treatment for patients by analysing health records and genetic information.

However, this raises an issue of privacy, with Mr Marr warning that a breach or misuse of so much sensitive health data could have ‘serious consequences’. 

Warning against an ‘over-reliance on AI’ he suggests some things will always require a human touch.

‘It should be viewed as a tool to aid, not replace, the expert judgment of healthcare professionals,’ he adds.

‘Medicine is not only a science but also an art, where human intuition, empathy, and communication play a crucial role.’

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The 2-1 win, which saw the Lionesses crowned the champions of Europe, put women’s football at the forefront of everyone’s minds.

While huge crowds cheered for the likes of Chloe Kelly, Georgia Stanway and Alessia Russo, another generation of Lionesses watched on with pride.

Jeannie Allott, Janet Clark, Maggie Pearce and Lyn Hale grew up in the shadow of the 50-year ban on professional women’s football.

From 1921 to 1971, the game had been deemed ‘quite unsuitable’ for females.

When the ban was lifted in 1971, women from up and down the country went from kickabouts in the streets to playing for club and country.

But they didn’t enjoy the same support as players today.

‘We could only imagine the kit and facilities the teams have today,’ Janet, 68, tells Metro.co.uk in a call with Jeannie, Morag and Lyn.

‘Jeannie used to hitchhike to games. Our parents weren’t that well off, but my mum would still find money together to get me on a train to London or wherever.’

The ‘72 Lionesses didn’t play for money – the majority of players had day jobs – but were inspired by their pure love of the game.

Janet had grown up playing football with her three brothers on a Sunday morning, often leaving her caked in mud.

After a kickabout, her brothers would distract their mother to let her dash upstairs to take a bath.

Janet made it through the trials into Eric Worthington’s original England squad in 1972, and was branded by The Sun as ‘the Nobby Stiles of ladies’ soccer’.

She adds: ‘I had no holidays left at the first training I went to and told my boss I couldn’t go. He said “no, you’re going – I’ll clock you in and out for the week.’”

While Janet’s work and family were supportive, backlash was not uncommon for the ‘72 Lionesses.

‘You should be at home’ the players were told by jeering men. Others said they ‘should be wearing a pretty little dress’ instead of their England strips.

At one point, the entire squad was photographed for an article – but it was just their legs pictured in the paper with the question ‘Can You Guess The England Women Player By Their Legs?’

‘We learned to just focus,’ says Maggie, on not letting the outside world influence their performance as England players.

The 65-year-old adds: ‘When you walked on the pitch, you were football focused. You could have five people, 5,000 people around you – but all you could hear was teammates.

‘It was brilliant, I wouldn’t have changed the experience for the world.’

Jeannie, who was just 17 on her debut with England, echoes Morag.

‘We had a lot of barriers to break down, real barriers which no-one can imagine today, but it was fantastic,’ she recalls. ‘I never looked back and had a great youth.’

Jeannie, now 66, would later move to the Netherlands – where she still lives today – to further her football career.

She played alongside Dutch player Sarina Wiegman, and, even then, the quiet confidence of the woman who would become the future England coach was clear.

‘Sarina was a very good player. She used to play right half and was really technical,’ remembers Jeannie.

‘I take my hat off to her. She’s a quiet girl. You see her on the touchline and she’ll never rant or rage. Once the girls go on that field, it’s no use Sarina shouting at them. She gives the instruction before.’

When asked about the current crop of Lionesses, their predecessors are full of praise for the ‘great’ team devoid of any ‘cockiness.’

‘Lucy Bronze is like me’, Maggie quickly says. 

‘Keira Walsh was a bit like me,’ muses Janet, while Lyn asks with a smile, ‘Can I be Beth Mead?’

For Jeannie, choosing a favourite within such a strong squad is no easy task.

‘They all got something, your good defender, your fast winger,’ she explains. 

‘I don’t think there’s one that outshines the other. They play as a team. This generation [of Lionesses] have ideas, they know how it works.’

Seeing the rise of women’s football is bittersweet for Janet, Maggie, Lyn and Jeannie.

They’re immensely proud of what they achieved, but there’s a twinge of sadness that their work went unnoticed for so long.

However, a new wave of support from the National Lottery has helped the stories of the ‘72 Lionesses garner the respect they deserve.

Their names are listed on the official England website and, after a valiant campaign, all the players post-ban have had their caps officially recognised.

The group enjoyed a lap of honour when England took on the USA at Wembley last year, when the country was still gripped by a post-Euros frenzy.

‘When England did so well last year, my dad said “you know, you were just born 50 years too early”,’ says Janet.

‘And I said, I wasn’t, as if he hadn’t been my dad, I wouldn’t have achieved what I did. He’s always been so supportive. 

‘He’s 93 and was able to come to Wembley and see me get my cap after so long.’

Today, the ‘72 Lionesses keep in contact over a Whatsapp group called ‘Party Animals 72’ and plan to meet up once a year.

They hope, as the rise of the women’s game continues, attention can be turned to both recognising the past and preserving the future.

‘It is unfortunate it took so long for us to be recognised,’ says Lyn, 68. ‘We were a little piece of history. Years ago, no-one even knew we played football. Only our close family. Sometimes workmates never even knew.

‘We had to muddle along [when we were playing football]. But now, thanks to funding from the National Lottery, communities and grassroots football is changing.

‘It’s become more visible on the television as well, which has made a huge difference.’

Future Lionesses won’t learn their craft in the same way as the original squad, Jeanne adds.

‘The streets can be dangerous at the moment, so sports facilities need to be up and running for these young girls,’ she explains. 

‘We’ve got a long way to go – at the moment a lot of the trainers are volunteers – but we need to put in the money and show them the way.’

Janet adds that the National Lottery funding has ‘transformed’ the women’s game in her lifetime, and that England’s recent success wouldn’t have been possible without it.

‘It’s amazing what they’ve done for girls and the future of women’s football,’ she says.

Today, the ’72 Lionesses will join hundreds of fans at Boxpark Wembley, to watch as England begin their World Cup journey with a match against Haiti.

They’ve got special t-shirts made with their legacy numbers on the front and ‘1972 Lioness’ emblazoned on the back.

Below is the line ‘yes, we were the first’, if the message wasn’t clear.

Anyone who spots the ‘OG Lionesses’ in the wild is encouraged to say hello and ask more about their playing past.

For the former teammates, they hope their legacy can be left in lights.

‘We want people to know the real story, of what really happened, what we really went through, and it’s about time we were recognised,’ says Jeannie.

‘We won’t be forgotten.’

Metro.co.uk spoke with Morag, Janet, Lyn and Jeannie thanks to the National Lottery – which has invested more than £50 million into the women’s game in the last decade.

The National Lottery’s Women’s Euro Legacy New Team Grant now means £1million has been made available to set up new girls’ clubs or teams since the Euros win last summer. 

So far, £200k has been issued to set up 170 new clubs / teams across the country.

Find out how your numbers make amazing happen at: www.lotterygoodcauses.org.uk #TNLAthletes #MakeAmazingHappen

The Lionesses: take pride in our trailblazers

The England Women’s team of 1972 travelled across Europe as they took on opponents such as Sweden, Scotland and Italy.

Many had second jobs, but used annual leave to make games.

Read more about the ’72 Lionesses below:

Lyn Hale

Lyn Hale has a proud place in English footballing history as she was the second person to score for the England Women in their first official game in 1972.

When the FA finally lifted its 51-year ban on girls and women playing football, Hale was among those who went through regional and then national trials to be selected for the match against Scotland on 18 November 1972. 

Described as a ‘flying winger with a cannonball shot’, she did not retire from playing until 40 years of age, then progressing to coach and manager of Southampton Women’s team.

Today, she lives in Southhampton.

Jeannie Allott

At just 15, Allott was one of a host of talented teenagers selected in England Women’s first official match against Scotland, which came after the FA’s 1921 ban on girls and women playing football was lifted. 

Allott travelled from Crewe for the match, aged only 16. As she had no money for a train ticket or any other means of transport, she hitchhiked and stayed at the station all night in order to be available for the game.

At sixteen years and one day old she remains England’s youngest goal scorer. 

She made her domestic football debut in a charity match for the British team Fodens, later moving to the Netherlands to play and even representing the Dutch at international level. 

Today, she lives in Rotterdam.

Morag (Maggie) Pearce

Maggie made her England debut at 15 years old, the youngest selected for Eric Worthington’s inaugural Lionesses XI.

A talented fullback, she was the only player to start both England’s first ever match in 1972 and the UEFA Championship final 12 years later. 

She also came back from having her first daughter to continue playing, achieving 40 caps for the national side.

Today, she lives in Southampton.

Janet Clark

Another pioneer of women’s football in England, and described as a midfield enforcer, Clark (nee Bagguley) made it through the trials into Eric Worthington’s original England squad in 1972.

After the trials, it had been a long wait for any news.

But, one day, her mum called Janet at work to say a letter had arrived at home.

She was asking ‘shall I open it’, and Janet replied ‘Yes’ and stood there until she heard Mum scream to the whole street ‘Yes, Yes you’re in the squad’.

Janet also played netball to a high standard, but football was her main talent as The Sun branded Clark: “the Nobby Stiles of ladies’ soccer”. 

Today, she lives in Buxton, Derbyshire.

Get in touch with our news team by emailing us at webnews@metro.co.uk.

For more stories like this, check our news page.

The crump of another shell reaches their ears, but after two weeks embedded with an assault battalion behind the frontlines of Bakhmut, Max now recognises the difference between incoming and outgoing artillery fire.

And, after all, from an artist’s perspective the early morning sunlight is too good to pass up. When he shows his tired subject the completed, still wet portrait, he smiles and hugs Max before leaving for the frontline, hopefully still alive to enjoy the sunset that evening.

Max, 25, is a British artist and no stranger to pushing the boundaries of art. Born in Chile and having moved to England at 13, he is an advocate of art in the extreme.

Known for eschewing the comfort of a cosy studio, Max prefers to pack his easel, paints and brushes to head off to far-flung corners of the planet to document life in the raw through the medium of paint.

His previous subjects have included erupting volcanoes in Iceland, illicit miners in the Congo, encounters with indigenous Korubo members in the Amazon Rainforest and studies of rare and dangerous wildlife across the globe.

Max believes adventuring artists have a role to play. ‘It’s never tourism,’ he says, ‘but more of a palpable urge to witness and document the extreme edges of life on Earth.’

But this is arguably his boldest move so far; three weeks painting on the Eastern Ukrainian front, which has experienced some of the fiercest fighting since the ill-conceived invasion of Ukraine by the Kremlin began in February last year.

‘Just because something’s dangerous, why should we let it get in the way of creating powerful art?’ Max asks back in his south London studio.

‘There aren’t many ways to explain to friends and family that you’re leaving for a battlefield to paint humans at war. I only told my dad the day before I left.’

Sitting alongside Max is Henry Harte, a photographer, videographer and long-time friend. Together, under their project Art in the Extreme, they visit all corners of the globe, seeking to connect through the combined power of art and film with those living in the most hazardous locations.

With the help of the one-man charity Dorset to Donetsk, they organised a last-minute trip to Ukraine to shed some light on the human experiences often overlooked amidst the chaos of a war now entering its eighteenth month.

‘The more we didn’t know about the trip, the better,’ admits Henry, still surrounded by the SD cards and disposable cameras he brought with him. ‘We thought, “let’s just go”. We hardly planned it. We’d already been to the Amazon, Congo, Rwanda and everywhere in between but this was something completely different.’

Max and Henry would soon find themselves in Bakhmut, stationed at a ‘stabilisation point’ – an area that soldiers call home when not fighting that lies only 2km away from the frontline. 

The Russian artillery has a range of 30km. Refueling, reloading, eating and sleeping all happen here. But this is primarily a place where wounded soldiers can be tended to by medics before being sent to the nearest hospital. They are hot targets for Russian drone and missile attacks.

‘The first day was terrifying, to be perfectly honest,’ admits Max. ‘My heart was pounding in my chest. We sat in an SUV, hurtling past all these blown-out buildings as we made our way to our temporary home for the next few weeks.

‘I was thinking, “Oh god, what are we doing?”. When we finally reached the battalion, it was nothing but smiles and hugs from everyone. The welcome was overwhelming. Everyone was just so happy to see us. It was a lot to take in.’

It is only when Max unwraps his brushes and sets up his easel that he feels a greater understanding of those with whom he finds himself living with. Inside the cramped confines of a destroyed tank, Max paints a portrait of Torri, a combat medic. Along with her sister, she left her high-paying city job in the US and returned home to help on the frontline.

At only 22 years old, Torri has already made a name for herself among the battle-hardened ranks of her battalion. ‘Soldiers kept telling us that she’s saved at least 50 people and that not a single person has died whilst under her care,’ Max says.

‘Beyond the uniforms and body armour, I wanted to explore this idea of what it really means to be human in extreme circumstances,’ he continues. ‘But to do this, you have to catch people off guard to experience their genuine side.

‘You need to seize the inspiration the moment it comes to you. You can’t miss it. Okay, so this time, my inspiration takes me to an active warzone, but the more I painted these people, the more I realised that they are just people. They’re someone’s father, mother, sister or brother.’

It soon became a routine for Max to move between groups of soldiers, asking if they would be willing to take some time out to sit and let him paint them; often drawing the attention of curious crowds young and old.

‘Whenever I set up my easel, everyone always seemed keen to understand why someone would travel from the safety of their country to paint them amongst rubble and these half standing buildings scarred with shrapnel.  The mood amongst them always lifted.’

But such peace was often short-lived. On one occasion, before he even had the chance to start his portrait of another young soldier, Max was informed that they had lost their hand in battle the following night.

‘There were times when I didn’t have time to process what I was seeing, but I wasn’t there to capture a moment the same way a photographer might,’ Max explains.

‘My paintings are essentially a result of hundreds of moments combined. I sometimes see painting as an even more empathetic form of photojournalism.

‘There’s nothing I aim for. There’s no end goal. You’re like a sponge soaking up what you experience in the moment; The painting only revealing itself at the end.’

Often, the contrast of interactions between soldiers throughout the loud, intense operations of their day and the quiet evenings spent eating and laughing inside the shelter of abandoned houses was almost too much to process.

Henry, who for nearly three weeks had been capturing Max’s journey on video, developed a sense of knowing when to film soldiers in their most intimate states and when best to simply observe.

He recalls Dima, a notoriously proficient drone operator. This same man, proud to showcase his expertise through the screen of a handheld monitor, was also the one to offer him his meal as they rested in the evening.

‘They all kept trying to share their food with us,’ Henry says. ‘I asked one guy why he wasn’t eating. He just rubbed his belly and made a face, pretending to be full. After a while, it hit me. He was probably nervous about what was coming the next day and didn’t feel like eating.’

Max’s Ukrainian war portraits will be shown at The Fine Art Commissions Gallery from the 10th – 21st October, 2023. All funds raised through the exhibition go directly to the volunteer initiative Dorset to Donetsk.

‘When I opened the gallery in 1997, never once did I imagine, over two decades later, we would be hosting an exhibition comprising paintings from a major ongoing conflict in Europe,’ admits Sara Stewart, founder and managing director of the Fine Art Commissions Gallery.

For now, neither the small child staring at the barrel of a destroyed tank in Kyiv city centre nor the soldier who shares the photos he keeps of his family with his crew will understand just how important Max’s portraits of them may be.

But in a war more visually accessible to the world than ever in history, his paintings of the true heartbeat of this battleground will no doubt serve as a reminder of the countless, human moments we never caught.

‘For a short while at least,’ Max reflects, ‘I hoped they felt they hadn’t been forgotten by the rest of the world.’

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Claie.Wilson@metro.co.uk 

Share your views in the comments below.

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And a decade on from the landmark Marriage (Same Sex Couples) Act becoming law in 2013, the debate was reignited earlier this year after the House of Bishops proposed ‘prayers of dedication’ and ‘thanksgiving’ for civil marriages of same-sex couples. 

While some saw the proposal, approved by the General Synod in February, as a ‘new beginning’, many others remain outraged that LGBTQ+ weddings were still banned in church, especially as 78% of Britons now support same-sex marriage compared to just 42% in 2011, according the the latest polling by YouGov.

For Jayne Ozanne, the government’s former LGBT+ equality adviser, who tabled a motion for the provision for equal marriage legislation to be brought back to the General Synod this month, the bishops’ latest proposal inflicts further harm on the LGBT+ community. 

‘It adds to our pain,’ she tells Metro.co.uk. ‘I think the general public looks on the church wondering why it’s preaching a message of love, while discriminating against those who do that, and I can’t see much of a future for the institution if it carries on doing so.’ 

Here, three LGBTQ+ Christians share what this latest decision means to them.

‘It feels like little progress has been made’

Rachel Gillingham, 37, is a former Bible study leader at St Luke’s Church in London’s Kentish Town.

‘I’ve struggled to belong within the Church ever since I was removed from my congregation at St Luke’s in 2017 for coming out and expressing my support for equal marriage.

At the time, I was criticised for being too visible and open as a gay person and that backing equal marriage within the Church of England was unacceptable for someone in my position – and that if I was gay, having sex with another woman was a sin.

Although a report into the incident found the priest hadn’t abused his power by removing me, it concurred that there were pastoral failings in how the situation had been handled and recommended a clear policy on sex and relationships. 

I had felt so liberated by embracing myself, but I just couldn’t understand why some Christians won’t accept that you can be LGBT+ and married in the eyes of God. 

Losing my community for simply expressing my sexuality was absolutely devastating and a sign that the church in many respects continues to inflict pain and harm on LGBT+ people. When the leader of a church treats you unkindly with homophobia and probes you with questions about your relationship, it makes you question the foundations of Christianity. 

Even since then I’ve suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder and can’t go anywhere near a church without suffering from nightmares. But most of all, it’s impacted my faith in the institution. If my vicar, who is preaching about love, can essentially kick me out because of my sexuality, what does that say about God? 

I’m not alone, and the Church of England needs to recognise the harm it inflicts on LGBT+ people on a daily basis through its policies and lack of transparency.

This new proposal proclaims that we are not equal to the rest of the church which shows the value it puts not only on our identity, but us as human beings. 

Many churches and vicars are outraged that same-sex couples were even allowed to have their marriages blessed and, sadly, I think the church is unlikely to ever allow equal marriage in my lifetime -although I of course pray otherwise.’ 

‘We’re viewed as a problem, not people’

Charlie Bell, 33, is a priest from London and is waiting until the church allows gay weddings before he marries his partner Piotr Baczyk, 27. 

‘The fact that we can’t get married is painful and I cannot read it in any way other than a devaluing of our relationship or a failure to recognise that there’s anything good in what we have.

What makes it all the more infuriating, is because the church is willing to make the most of me and Piotr as the vicar’s partner. 

The bishops’ proposal is disappointing, but not surprising. When I first heard about what they’d proposed, I felt let down because it was tantamount to a thin gruel that leaves same-sex couples not only in a state of limbo, but as second-class citizens whose marriages are less than relationships between heterosexual couples. 

I sit on the pastoral guidance group for the House of Bishops to decide the next steps in terms of marriage and one of the main sticking points at the moment is whether clergy can even enter into civil same-sex marriages. If I did this, I could lose my job, which for me is just completely unacceptable. 

Piotr and I are very out and strident and we’re both very keen to make it clear that we’re not going to tolerate this kind of treatment. Piotr grew up around Catholics, so in a sense we’re aware of the consequences the church’s treatment of us could have, but we’re both absolutely determined that it won’t impact our relationship. 

The church views us as a problem rather than people, but if you talk to the average people in the pews and a huge number of clergy, you’ll discover opposition to same-sex marriage is not as widespread as you think.

We’ll continue to campaign for equal marriage within the Church, because if the bishops think this will resolve the current situation, they are very much mistaken.

It would be really great to get wed in front of all our friends and family, our church family, and have one of the great parties our church is so well known for. Traditional but good fun – that’s our kind of wedding.’

‘The church is not a safe place for many’

Jeremy Pemberton, 67, was the first Anglican priest to enter into a same-sex marriage.

‘For the first time ever, the Church of England has officially said something nice about gay people in proposing the blessing of civil marriages of same-sex couples.

Rather than telling us our faults and our deficiencies, it actually affirmed us and the relationships that we have, which was an overwhelmingly emotional. 

However, I’m very realistic about the church, having been around it for more than 30 years, so I wasn’t expecting the bishops to go straight for same-sex marriage.

With my marriage – and having established in law that the Church of England had discriminated against me for simply marrying my partner, Laurence – it’s disappointing that same-sex couples are still denied a union that is valued the same as a heterosexual one, and I wouldn’t criticise those people who decide to walk away from the institution. 

I remember when I had my permission to officiate revoked, and was even prevented from officiating in another diocese which left me unable to take up a job offer at the King’s Mill hospital in Nottinghamshire.  

I went down to London to meet with a couple of lawyers and an equalities barrister who told me they thought I’d have a case under equalities legislation for discrimination on the grounds of my marriage and sexuality, but this is something that had never been tested before. 

Although we lost the original employment tribunal and subsequent appeal, we established I had been discriminated against, but the Church of England had the right to do so due to the religious exemptions to the Equality Act.

During the court case, Laurence was incredibly angry and would often ask me why I didn’t just walk away. The whole thing had a very bad impact on my mental health and it hasn’t been without its cost, but I will not stop fighting. 

The Church of God is made up of a vast collection of people who are good, bad and indifferent, and it’s not exempt from being taken down some very bad paths from time to time. The institution has so much wrong with it that it’s hard to know where to begin and while there are some truly amazing people, it needs some very big changes. 

I think we should be starting to work on unpicking the law and changing the canon on marriage, so that the church can marry same-sex couples. Because at the moment, the church is not a safe place for many people and it ought to be.’

*Metro.co.uk has contacted the Church of England for comment.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Kimberley.Bond@metro.co.uk 

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But with only seven teeth left in her mouth, the 59-year-old can only consume very soft foods. As oral health inequality widens in the UK, she’s resorted to do-it-yourself dentistry – aka pulling out her own teeth – as she’s unable to access NHS treatment. 

‘I had a really loose tooth which I twisted, and twisted, and twisted, until I could pull it out,’ Karen tells Metro.co.uk. ’It is quite scary to do that, but the relief is unbelievable. But then of course, the next one starts getting loose.

‘Gradually over time, because you’ve got no teeth, as you chew, your remaining teeth get loose and they move.

‘Which is why,’ she adds, ‘once you’ve lost a few… you’re going to lose them all eventually.’

While this form of tooth extraction may sound Dickensian, it’s estimated that 30 to 35 million dental appointments have been missed due to the pandemic – and the number of NHS dentists working in England is set to reach a decade low, according to the Association of Dental Groups. 

A YouGov poll, conducted earlier this year, found 10% of people admitted to attempting ‘DIY dentistry’. More than half (56%) of the group carried it out in the last year and one in five said they did so because they could not find an NHS dentist.

The survey also found 22% of people were not registered with a dentist, with 23% of those saying it is because they cannot afford treatment.

The Health and Social Care Committee’s examination of NHS dentistry has now seen calls for for ‘urgent and fundamental reform’, adding the evidence of pain and distress is ‘totally unacceptable in the 21st century’.

While the recently announced multibillion-pound ‘catch up programme’ for the NHS vowed to tackle non-urgent surgery, maternity and mental health services, it did not offer a penny to dentistry – which means patients will face waiting times of more than three years, according to Healthwatch England. 

It’s not just instances of tooth decay or gum disease which are going untreated either, but oral cancers, where survival rates plummet without early detection. It’s dentists on the frontline who detect these cancers, which kill more Britons each year than car accidents. 

‘There is a clear problem,’ says Neil Carmichael, Chair of the Association of Dental Groups (ADG). ‘We cannot offer more people NHS treatment, or solve the problem of ‘dental deserts’ without more dentists.

‘In the year to March 2021 the NHS lost a record 951 NHS dentists in England. Our estimates are that we could be seeing a similar exodus this year. Brexit, Covid-19 and contracts have all impacted the total capacity of the dental workforce.’

Karen explains that despite never having had major problems with her teeth, when she needed to re-fit her top denture, she was refused NHS emergency dental care because of Covid.

Then, after an accidental fall in an Asda car park – which knocked three bottom teeth out – she was told to try private care, but being on universal credit and PIP, she can’t afford it.

Two sets of dentures will cost her approximately £2000, and she’s still trying to raise money via a Go Fund Me page for treatment.

In total Karen thinks she’s pulled out at least five of her own teeth. Something thatimpacts her physical and mental health every day, she says. Eating has also become extremely difficult, and she is prone to choking.

‘I can’t be sure if this is connected, but I’ve developed IBS recently, and when I go to the toilet, sometimes I see whole bits of food in there, because I can’t chew properly,’ she admits.

The sight of her toothlessness also makes the grandmother feel ‘down and depressed’, and it is limiting her personal life too. 

‘I have been a single woman since my partner died four years ago,’ Karen explains. ‘I was on the dating scene but I’m too embarrassed now. They’re not going to want to introduce someone to their family who has got no teeth! I was a normal, happy woman. Now, I just feel like, what’s the point of going on? I’m ashamed of myself, but I know it’s not my fault.’

On the other side of Suffolk, in Sudbury, Nick Cohen, 43, has also been unable to access NHS dentistry, and is now too embarrassed to leave his house. 

What started out as toothache in 2020 escalated to more severe problems, and he was put on endless waiting lists for NHS treatment. Eventually, Nick was in such extreme pain that he pulled two teeth out himself in 2021, on separate occasions. One at the front, and another at the back of his mouth,

‘I did it with my fingers,’ he recalls. ‘I was wobbling the tooth backwards and forwards until it was loose enough, then I literally grabbed it. put all my strength into it, and pulled it hard. I took painkillers, and it was quite painful.’

Nick believes his teeth could have been saved if he had been able to access dental care when he needed to, but the NHS practice he had been on the waiting list for became private and it became disbanded.

While he did manage to have his four front teeth pulled out by an emergency dentist, he has nothing to replace them with, as emergency NHS care is typically for tooth extraction only, with the provision of dentures not provided. 

With his mouth in its current state, Nick says it continues to be ‘traumatic’ and ‘distressing’. He is so embarrassed about his lack of teeth, that he refused to share any recent photos of his face with Metro.co.uk. 

‘It’s causing me a lot of distress, and it’s isolating me – I feel quite lonely and in despair,’ says the diabetic, who is unable to work due to a long-term disability. ‘It’s also causing me discomfort with eating, and really piling on my mental health issues, and making me feel low and depressed.

‘My teeth are literally falling out, left, right and centre, because I can’t get any treatment or go to see a hygienist,’ he adds. ‘I’ve got nothing to replace them with.’

Ultimately, Nick believes dentists have a duty of care, and are leaving people to suffer. 

‘There’s a big pay gap between NHS and private dentistry,’ he says. ‘Dentists have all just jumped ship to get more money, and the government aren’t helping to open up more spaces. They don’t care about the lower class people who can’t afford private treatment. 

‘I think private dentists have the capacity to at least open the door one day a week, for NHS dentistry, considering the pay scale they’re on. It’s sheer greed otherwise.’

Since 2008/9 dentists working in the NHS have experienced cuts in real incomes of up to 40%, according to the British Dental Association. 

Dr Jabir Kazi lives in West Yorkshire and qualified as a dentist in 2017. He is currently working privately – but said if he had known the reality of working in dentistry, he would have chosen a different vocation, or moved abroad. 

Like many in his profession, Dr Kazi blames the universally discredited target-based NHS contract, which was introduced in 2006 across England and remunerates dentists solely on their activity.

Long before the pandemic fuelled access problems, it was dubbed ‘unfit for purpose’, not only receiving criticism from dentists, but two governments, a Health Select Committee and the Chief Dental Officers for England and Wales. It has generated chronic recruitment and retention problems. 

The contract  – which is still in place today – gives NHS dental practices targets to hit, known as units of dental activity (UDAs), and they are financially penalised if they didn’t hit them. Treatment is divided into three bands; the most complex care – such as the provision of crowns, mouthguards, bridges or dentures – requires dentists to pay the lab fee themselves, which can equate to as much as several hundred pounds per patient. 

‘It’s not good to have someone doing your treatment who gets hit in the pocket,’ says Dr Kazi. ‘If you do the best thing, you’re getting penalised. Whereas, a patient who has very low needs – for example maybe they just need a check up – is the perfect patient.’

He adds: ‘The government has to actually decide if they want to fund an NHS or not. Under NHS dentistry, the quality of care that’s available is emergency firefighting at best, and dentists are actually losing money to see patients – especially if they have high needs.’

Dr Kazi likens NHS dentistry to playing in a tennis match, where the umpire takes your tennis racket away. You’re still expected to play, and give your best possible work, with the crowd booing you in the stands. 

Then there’s the fact that the UK is now number one for litigation in the world, which can cost dentists approximately £5000 a year in professional insurance. One survey of 2,000 UK dentists found almost a fifth had seriously thought about suicide, with the threat of complaints or litigation the most common source of stress.

‘By the time you come home, and look at your finances, there’s nothing left, or you’re more in debt than you were before,’ he says. ‘You’ve been taught these amazing, wonderful techniques, and there’s lots of different things you can do. And then you work in a system which really limits what you can offer, without having to face huge financial penalties.’

For Dr Kazi, practising privately enables him to progress his career, have a better work/life balance, and exhibit his hard-earned skills.

‘The actual changes that we can make to people’s lives – either functionally, or aesthetically – can be really profound,’ he explains. ‘But the public needs to be aware that dentistry is a surgical profession, and it’s very expensive.

‘It would be nice to help people who are less able,’ adds Dr Kazi. ‘However,  I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve just got to do the best for whoever comes through my door.’

In Cheltenham, Anya* tells Metro.co.uk that although she comes from a family of dentists, it didn’t stop her having to resort to DIY dentistry herself during lockdown.

‘Back in Scotland, where I grew up, I’ve always had the privilege of getting affordable dental care,’ she explains. ‘But obviously with Covid I wasn’t able to travel. I was in agony for a year with wisdom tooth pain. I couldn’t get an NHS dentist, and the cost at a private practice was so extortionate – it could have been up to £1000 – and there was just no way I could afford it.’

Instead, the 31-year-old marketing professional got a kettle of boiling water and poured it over some nail scissors, then ‘cut the gum surrounding my tooth away’. 

‘I was at a desperate point, where I was in so much pain – and knew why I was in so much pain – that I knew I had to do something,’ Anya recalls. ‘There was a tonne of blood, and I really wouldn’t recommend it. I’ve managed to alleviate the pain, but I haven’t solved the problem.’

Anya hasn’t told her family about her DIY efforts, as she said they would be shocked and cross with her. She said it’s absurd, crazy and disappointing that she couldn’t get NHS treatment, adding that dentistry is seen as sub-par to medical care.  

‘If I was talking about performing minor surgery, there would be outrage,’ she says. ‘But dental care seems to fall into a weird subcategory.’

The UK’s dental crisis is something that needs to be urgently addressed, according to the campaign group Toothless in England, which acts as a hub for a network of ‘Toothless’ campaign groups across the country.

‘This is not just an issue that has come up because of the pandemic,’ insists the group’s founder Mark Jones. ‘This lack of NHS dentistry has been with us for well over a decade. It’s unfair, unwieldy and financially unviable. It’s not attractive for newly qualified dentists as they simply can’t cover the costs of providing NHS treatment.’

Currently, Toothless in England is campaigning for six demands to be met, including an NHS dentist for everyone and revenue to cover the 50% of the population that are unfunded by the government. 

Meanwhile, Nigel Carter, CEO of the Oral Health Foundation – which has launched public awareness campaign, Safe Smiles, to highlight the importance of safe dentistry -warns that the shortage of dentists has become a long term problem in the UK.

‘We need to be training more dentists, and expanding NHS provisions,’ he explains. ‘Since the 2006 NHS dental contract, there’s been a 10 per cent increase in population, and no increase in volume of treatment.

‘There’s been a drift to private practice since about 1990. For dentists wanting to expand, the only way that they can do that is by making some of their provisions private. It’s not the dentists fault that they’re moving so they can try and make more money, it is a question that there is not enough NHS provision in the system.’

One source of hope is the current intake of dental students, which is a bigger cohort than usual. However, given that it takes five years to train dentists, it’s not much use to those in need of treatment now. 

‘It shouldn’t have to be like this,’ says Karen, with her seven teeth left, and two more on the verge of being pulled out. ‘NHS patients should be the bread and butter, because there are more of us than there are people that can afford to go private. Yet, we’re made to feel like you’re a bit of an inconvenience. 

‘The whole point of having the NHS is that it’s there for those who need it,’ she adds.  ‘Yet, I feel like my life’s been put on hold – just because I can’t get an NHS dentist.’

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Claie.Wilson@metro.co.uk 

Share your views in the comments below.

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But for nearly two decades, Robert lived a second life as a spy who made millions of dollars by lying, cheating and stealing sensitive information from some of the biggest companies in America.

Relying on his acting training, he put on accents, mimicked corporate big-wigs and manipulated innocent workers into passing on vital intellectual property which he would sell to competitors.

‘I would call up and say “This is Gerhard, calling from the office in Frankfurt. We have the European Union regulators here and we need some information from the States”,’ says Robert, putting on a thick, convincing and slightly jovial German accent over the phone from Malibu, California.

‘What are people taught in the corporate world? Be a good teammate. So they want to help you. Nobody’s thinking you’re pretending or that you’re a trained actor impersonating a real person. I was able to get people to tell me passwords, new product information, what they charged clients, what they paid their employees, who the top employees at their companies were and who were their rock stars at the organisation – and all of that information was so valuable.

‘Imagine if you could learn the names of the people on the design team in the early days of the iPad. How much money would that have been worth?’

A lot, is the answer. In 2011, Apple filed a lawsuit against Samsung for infringing on patents related to iPhone and iPad product design. Apple claimed that Samsung had replicated the look and feel of its devices and was awarded just over $1 billion in damages.

Trade secrets are big business. Robert, who earned $8 an hour when he first started the work to help him survive as an actor in the early nineties, later made up to $2 million a year.

Hi story echoes that of Rob Moore, who went from corporate spy to self-proclaimed double agent, and is the focus of Tortoise Media’s latest podcast, ‘Into the Dirt’.

Like Robert, Rob had a career in the media, but when work dried up, he started gathering corporate intelligence.

Commercial espionage causes big headaches globally. Across the European markets, spying is the fifth biggest concern for companies, according to cyber security specialists Gatewatcher.

Robert, who has great people skills and who says he can read the silences over the phone, would invent a series of ruses to obtain valuable information. He would study the accents of industry giants on TV interviews and mimic them on the phone so employees, starstruck, would tell him whatever he wanted to know. He would also form relationships with employees and call them multiple times over a series of years, pretending to know family members, or terrify his target with claims of being from head office.

‘The words corporate compliance strikes fear in employees,’ explains Rob. ‘They’re like, “Oh, my God, I got the head of compliance on the phone. Did I do something wrong? I’m in trouble.” So right away, you make someone defensive. People are afraid but when they hear there’s some corporate emergency that you need help with, they relax.’

With their guard down, they would give information freely.

According to Robert Kerbeck, it was like taking candy from a baby. ‘Nine out of ten people think that they would never release sensitive private information. And I’m telling you that nine out of ten people give it up,’ he tells Metro.co.uk.

‘Corporate espionage is an extremely competitive, cut-throat industry. We had to think on our feet always. Part of being an actor is you have to have strong improvisational skills. And we did a tremendous amount of research before we would make any ruse phone call. We would study the company, read their annual reports, read their press releases and go all over the website. My lies sounded better than the truth.’

Robert worked as a spy for around twenty years, telling only his wife how he really made his money.

At one point in the late nineties, he was hunted by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Federal Communications Commission and ‘every other agency that has three letters in the United States’. A lawyer told him that if a company wanted to prosecute him, he ‘would be in big trouble’, and Robert often had to talk his way out of hot water, change names, switch phone numbers and go underground.

Corporate espionage is not illegal in the UK, according to private investigator Jack Charman, ‘as long as the methods used to obtain the information are legal and there is just cause,’ he explains.

‘The term “corporate espionage” indicates that information gathered under this guise is solely used for business advantage. This isn’t a strong legal reason to pursue the gathering of information and thus doesn’t have just cause to conduct an investigation. It can be quite a grey area. I know it does happen in the financial industry – short selling is a great example of this.’

Working as an actor, Robert was able to hide in plain sight. In 1994 he was hired to work on an exercise video with OJ Simpson.

‘I was a huge OJ fan. I grew up watching him play football. One day, I showed up to the video set in a dance studio. I’m the worst dancer ever, and everybody does the dance, even OJ, and I am just pathetic. I am so bad. The choreographer was about to fire me, but OJ says: “No. Rob’s dancing is so bad, it’s making me look good. Rob stays.” And in a weird sort of way that bonded us and the whole rest of the three-day shoot OJ was my best friend.’

OJ promised Robert a role in his next show, but just days later, he saw the historic televised police chase involving OJ in the white Bronco.

‘I was just blown away. My jaw dropped,’ he remembers. ‘I literally slid off my couch and was on the ground. I couldn’t believe it.’ OJ was cleared of double murder in 1995, but jailed for armed robbery and conspiracy to kidnap in 2008. He has since been released.

Robert set up his own firm in the late nineties, and trained other spies to work for him. Did he feel bad? Yes – but he rationalised it.

‘There was part of me that said I was only stinging major corporations and financial institutions,’ he explains. ‘It doesn’t take a lot of research or awareness to know that many of these institutions have been convicted of many types of financial crimes, malfeasance and ripping off consumers. You can make a pretty easy argument that it was the greed of financial institutions that caused the 2008 financial crisis. I told myself I was just stealing corporate secrets from one firm and selling them to another; that’s just part of the capitalist system. But there were also people that I was dealing with that I was taking advantage of and that didn’t feel good.’

In the end, it wasn’t the FBI that brought Robert’s operation to its knees; it was his eight-year-old daughter who confronted him after overhearing him on the phone pretending to be someone else.

‘She said: “Are you a hacker?” And I said: “Oh no. I’m just getting information from one company and giving it to another as part of capitalism.” And she said: “But it’s dishonest.” That was the moment I knew I had to get out of the business,’ he says.

Robert went on to become an author, and finally liberated from the shackles of secrecy, he revealed all in a memoir called Ruse: Lying the American Dream from Hollywood to Wall Street – however, this unexpectedly served as an advert for his shady services.

‘I cannot tell you how many executives have reached out to me after reading the exposé.

‘They told me; “We loved your book. We’d like to hire you to spy for us.” I had to tell them that I was out of the business. But also; I’ve outed myself! I wouldn’t be a very good spy if I’ve outed myself. But corporations don’t care.

‘They just want the information and they’re willing to pay top dollar to get me or someone else to learn anything and everything possible about their rivals.’

Ruse: Lying the American Dream from Hollywood to Wall Street

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Kimberley.Bond@metro.co.uk 

Share your views in the comments below.

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Prophecies are often ghoulish, heavily detailing the carnage and bloodshed which is evidently imminent – but such hellish images have since been surpassed by tangible horrors of modern warfare. 

With an increasing number of leading figures in the tech industry now fretting about the risk artificial intelligence poses to society, with OpenAI’s ChatGPT system bearing the brunt of this criticism, concerns are at fever-pitch.

Even fan of the future Elon Musk is warning that super intelligent AI is significantly more dangerous than nuclear warheads, hinting towards a Terminator-style endgame for humanity.

However, the likelihood of this actually happening is slim, says Michael Cook, a senior lecturer at King’s College London with expertise in AI.

‘People think AI is smarter than it is in its current form,’ he explains. ‘Some people are afraid of it because they’ve seen pop culture, which is understandable. The reason we should be is not because AI is going to decide to kill us all, but it’s how it’s being used right now. We’re using it in lots of places where it shouldn’t be used.’

In spite of its flaws, AI technology could be genuinely revolutionary:it could create solutions to problems that humans can’t even think of, such as a cure for cancer, or create new energy sources.

Its possibilities are endless, which is why I, for one, welcome our new AI overlords.

And, let’s face it, AI certainly isn’t going anywhere any time soon.

So for one week, I let a robot rule every aspect of my daily life: from helping me dress for work and sort dinner to dealing with health issues and sorting out my social life.

But is it really the way forward? Well, the results were… interesting…

‘ChatGPT, choose my outfit’

I am a graduate of the ‘can’t polish a turd’ school of thought, and so the effort I put into getting myself ready for work is minimal. Case in point: I once bothered to put on make-up for the office only for a colleague to actually say ‘well done’ to me.

So to have ChatGPT pick out an outfit for me was somewhat exciting. Finally, I could have my work outfit ready to go first thing in the morning, as opposed to blindly pulling out something vaguely appropriate from my overstuffed wardrobe.

The sticky summer heat, mingled with the threat of thunderstorms, meant it was tricky to devise something with my small human brain anyway. ChatGPT had some suggestions.

‘Choose lightweight, breathable fabrics like cotton or linen to stay comfortable in the warm temperature. A dress, a skirt and blouse combination, or dress pants with a blouse are all appropriate options.

‘Consider a longer skirt or dress that falls below the knees to keep your legs protected from rain or chilly office air conditioning.’

To beat the downpours, ChatGPT added: ‘Since there’s a chance of rain, it’s a good idea to bring a lightweight rain jacket or trench coat with you. This way, you can stay dry during your commute and while walking outdoors.’

In terms of colours, ChatGPT suggested muted neutrals or something with a ‘pop of colour’ without looking too garish for the office environment.

Digging out my trench coat, which smells faintly of damp and dust (the joys in living in a tiny basement flat) and pairing it with my cotton geometric Zara dress I got in the sale last year, I don’t feel too ridiculous however, nothing it suggested was particularly revolutionary (A raincoat? For rainy weather? Groundbreaking).

Anna Wintour can sleep easy for now – ChatGPT still has some way to go in the sartorial stakes. 

Can an AI doctor fix my foot?

I have experienced an unusual, sharp pain down the right side of my right foot, which sometimes stretches up my calf and into the back of my knee. Walking is painful. Wearing shoes is painful – to the point that I now stride around the office in my socks. I have a doctor’s appointment booked, but I decide to enter my symptoms into ChatGPT to see what their verdict is.

Firstly, ChatGPT apologises after hearing I am in pain, which is unnerving. It continues: ‘One possibility for the sharp pain in the right side of your foot is a sprained ankle. This occurs when the ligaments supporting the ankle joint become stretched or torn, typically due to an injury or twisting motion. Alongside the pain, swelling in the ankle is a common symptom of a sprain.

‘Another potential cause could be a stress fracture. Repetitive stress or overuse of the foot can lead to tiny cracks in the bones. This can result in localized pain, especially when walking or putting weight on the foot. Swelling can also be present in some cases.’

It then clarifies it’s not a doctor, before giving quite general advice to treat my pain – rest, ice, ibuprofen for the swelling. 

My doctor’s appointment actually confirms I have peroneal tendonitis – swelling on a tendon on my foot due to overuse. While the treatment is effectively the same, ChatGPT was incorrect in its diagnosis.

A dodgy foot is one thing, but I was intrigued to find out what my friend ChatGPT would do if I was suffering the symptoms of a heart attack? I type in chest pain, nausea and tiredness, and I’m quickly urged to go to the medical room. Thanks, pal.

However, the symptoms of a major depressive episode – suicidal thoughts, feeling tearful and hopeless – are more of a challenge for it, spitting out the response that ‘it cannot provide the help I need.’

For Michael Cook, this is where the real danger of AI lies – it’s improper use.

‘General artificial intelligence is not designed to give you medical advice,’ he explains. ‘ChatGPT is a large language model, meaning it absorbs a huge amount of data and text, and looks for patterns. But that’s not to say that everything it feeds back is correct, or should be trusted.

‘There’s instances of ChatGPT “hallucinating” – attributing quotes to people who never said those things, or producing papers that haven’t ever been written.’

DJ AI on the decks

My forty minute walk (or, around 25 minute tube journey, seeing as my foot needs rest) is usually soundtracked by Spotify, which has launched its own AI tool: DJ.

According to Spotify, the AI DJ ‘knows you and your music taste so well that it can choose what to play for you’. It’s claimed the more you interact with it, the better the AI gets.

The commentary borders on annoying, with the AI speaker interrupting every four songs or so to tell you they’re switching things up for whatever reason, but the songs selected are within the parameters of my taste.

DJ then chooses ‘new’ songs that it thinks I might like, and this is where things go slightly awry. While the first track selected is September by Earth Wind and Fire (I don’t think it could be described as ‘new’ by any stretch of imagination), the AI then pumps out a lot of Drake. I don’t hate Drake, but I’m not particularly keen on him to the point that the AI thinks I am.

The DJ feature isn’t awful, and with repeated use it probably would improve, but for the time being, I’ll stick to the pre-curated playlists.

My AI friends

I probably have the worst desk in the office: I’m sat by the kitchen, which means I get the regular footfall of people filling up their water bottles and the first warning smells that psychopaths are cooking kippers in the microwaves.

It also means I’m forever bumping into people when I have to get up. I have all the conversational skills of a teaspoon, so whenever a poor colleague is forced into a kitchen tete a tete with me, they have to brace themselves for the most boring chat of their lives.

So I decided to see if I could use ChatGPT as a means of actually making friends.

When I asked for some ice breakers, it came up with the following:

1. Two Truths and a Lie: Share two true statements and one false statement about yourself. Let others guess which one is the lie.

2. Desert Island: If you were stranded on a desert island, what three items would you want to have with you and why?

3. Office Superlatives: Create fun, lighthearted superlatives for your colleagues, such as “Best Dressed,” “Most Likely to Win a Marathon,” or “Office Comedian.”

So far, so inoffensive – though I feel if I chased someone into the kitchen shouting “two truths and a lie! Two truths and a lie!” it would quickly become a matter for HR.

But I was keen to see what ChatGPT made of one of my more outlandish assignments. For work (yes, work!) I had to attend a sex party, where only the women could initiate conversation with men.

I asked for some conversation starters for the event, and ChatGPT left me lost for words. Finally, a being that is somehow more socially inept that I am.

Imagine going to a sex party and saying this:

‘Do you have any favourite resources or books about sex positivity, consent, or sexual exploration that you’d recommend?’

‘I find the concept of sex positivity fascinating. What does it mean to you?’

I left ChatGPT out for this one, forced to rely on my own natural charm (or lack of it).

Dinner a la Robot Ramsay

Cooking dinner for my boyfriend, I told ChatGPT what was in my fridge (chicken, feta, tomatoes and pasta) and urged it to make a recipe ‘in the style of Gordon Ramsay’ (the only celebrity chef I know).

The system then spits out ‘Gordon Ramsay’s Mediterranean Chicken Pasta’ recipe, with additional ingredients and 11 steps to follow.

The verdict? Well… it’s pasta and chicken. It’s nice enough – definitely quicker to put together than racking my brains for ideas. The recipe ChatGPT provided only needed me to fetch a few additional herbs and some stock, so it only set me back a few quid.

It was also fairly easy to follow, with Pete having pasta in his lap within 30 minutes. He seemed happy with it (or was too scared/intelligent to complain). It did strike me as somewhat amazing that AI cooked me dinner and the only complaint I really had was that it needed more seasoning.

So, will AI rule the earth?

While integrating AI into my daily routine was somewhat helpful in some respects, a lot of the advice offered made me roll my eyes and whisper ‘no s*** Sherlock’ at my laptop.

Effectively, AI is a great impersonator, or as Richard Self, computing and analytics lecturer at Derby University explains: ‘a stochastic parrot’ –  good at generating convincing language, but not at actually understanding the meaning of what it’s saying. It can guess advice, but it at this level – AI can’t offer anything genuinely original.

‘It’s not here to give answers,’ he explains. ‘It’s here to calculate a sequence. It’s a convincing attempt, but it’s merely an impersonation.

‘Human beings are effectively lazy and want to find quicker ways of doing things. But this is where AI can cause great harm, as we can end up trusting AI’s answers when its judgement isn’t quite sound.

‘It’s clear AI is something we may end up integrating into our lives. But there needs to be far greater regulation to stop it being used in areas it shouldn’t be used for. That’s when it can really do significant harm.’

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Kimberley.Bond@metro.co.uk 

Share your views in the comments below.

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‘I wanted to protect a child from any of the things I encountered and give them a chance of a happy life – the one that I was denied,’ Carol-Ann, 60, tells Metro.co.uk. ‘My childhood was marred by mental, physical and sexual abuse and I don’t remember ever being a child to be honest. The reason I came out the other side is because I’m a very resilient person.’

Although she is one of the 54,000 foster carers across the UK, a serious shortage of those willing to take on such a demanding role means many vulnerable children in need of a stable family environment are being moved away from the things that form their identity including their school, friends, hobbies and wider family.

Currently, there are over 90,000 children in care in the UK and three quarters live with foster families.

But more carers are needed to ensure that, when safe to do so, every child who can’t live with their own family is cared for within their community.

The Fostering Network calculates that 7200 extra fostering households are needed across the UK to make sure that children can be cared for and remain together with their siblings. This equates to 6000 extra foster placements in England, 500 in Scotland, 400 in Wales, and 300 in Northern Ireland.

‘An estimated one in three vulnerable children in England and Wales have to leave their local authority area because a foster family cannot be found to look after them nearby, causing additional trauma, as they are moved away from everything they know,’ says Sarah Thomas, CEO at The Fostering Network.

But how has the care sector reached such a crisis point? According to new research by Care Visions Fostering Scotland, misconceptions about fostering may be one of the main barriers to potential carers.

After a total of 503 people aged over 18 were surveyed, more than a quarter thought you needed your own house to foster. Over 20% assumed you needed to be between the ages of 30-60, while more than 30% felt that being single would be a barrier to fostering.

Another 25% thought that you must be a British citizen to foster in this country. None of these are true.

Money was also seen as an issue, with 69% saying the current cost of living stops them from fostering. However, the reality is foster carers receive a fostering allowance – around £23,500 per year (£450 per week), depending on local authorities.

Money aside, there’s the fact that raising a child is far more than a 9-5 job – even more so when they’re not your own.

However, Carol-Ann, who lives in Lanarkshire, says fostering gave her the chance to draw a line under her own troubled childhood.

Having had a successful career working in a legal practice for 35 years during which time she and husband Stephen, who have two children of their own, her thoughts turned to caring for a child, but admits she had deep reservations.

‘The fear of leaving a well-paid job, not knowing what the future would hold, whether it would work, would it affect my own kids… there was a lot to consider,’ she explains. Then, 10 years ago, she was made redundant and decided to take the plunge.

Since then, she has fostered nine children on long and short term placements, looked after 12 children on respite and right now she is caring for two siblings, a little boy aged four and his big sister, six.

‘When she arrived the little girl behaved like an adult as she had been parenting her mum who was unable to care for them,’ remembers Carol-Anne.

‘At that stage she was having 10 meltdowns a day, so we had to unpick all of that and find the wee child within. I enlisted the help of a friend to do music therapy and the Care Visions Therapeutic Family Workers gave me techniques, such as lying on your back and kicking a balloon to each other, which helps build focus, creates a connection and is also fun.

‘Eventually we unleashed a happy gene in this wee girl that we hadn’t seen before.’

Carol-Ann adds: ‘Fostering has helped me lay to rest some of my demons. It can be challenging but the rewards outweigh everything.

‘You love them unconditionally, but the most wonderful feeling is when they love you straight back.

‘Financially it’s not like my previous job, but it’s not about the money.

‘It’s a privilege to watch these kids blossom and exceed their goals in life knowing I played a part in helping to get them there.”

It would be naïve to think every foster placement has a happy ending every time, however. Being a carer is more than just providing a nurturing family home and stability to children and young people – many of whom have had a difficult start to life.

There are heartbreaking moments, when placements break down, or children with whom strong bonds have been forged leave to be reunited with their birth families.

Steven Carroll, 45, from Motherwell, has been a full-time foster carer for 15 years, foregoing his career ambitions to become a teacher like his wife Kristin, to care for children in his own home, and has had his fair share of drama.

Overnight they became foster parents to three young brothers, aged four, seven and eight.

‘We were straight in at the deep end, and it was a bit of an adventure, but we took it in our stride,’ admits Steven.

‘The boys were wild when they first arrived, climbing all over furniture, into everything. We put boundaries in place – bedtimes, bath times, reading stories, and they very quickly settled into a routine.

‘Very quickly, and unprompted, they called us mum and dad – it was very special and felt very natural.’

‘But they definitely experienced trauma,’ adds Steven.

In most cases, fostered children never completely let go of where they came from and are very often rehabilitated back with their birth families, which can be challenging.

When one of the siblings Steven and his wife were caring for had some behavioural issues aged 14, the placement broke down and the teen moved into a children’s unit.

‘We undergo specialist training and there’s a broad spectrum of courses that help you accept that these challenges, although tough, are just part of the job,’ he says.

It was also heart-breaking for Steven when a baby they’d been looking after from the age of six months, was rehabilitated back to his parents eight months later.

‘There have been difficult times and sad times, but that was the first time I thought “wow, this is hard.”‘

Now Steven is once again permanently caring for another three siblings; sisters aged six and eight and their 10-year-old big brother.

Fostering has been my job and vocation. You accept the challenges as part of the job, but it doesn’t really feel like a job. It just feels like life.

‘A couple of times I’ve thought “have I got the energy for this all over again” but the flip side is there’s so many rewarding moments.

‘The wee one was recently in a dancing show and came away with a medal as if she’d won the Olympics and the eldest boy is helping me restore and rebuild an old motorbike. He loves his own tool kit so gets a huge amount from that.’

Steven adds: ‘Fostering has been my job and vocation. You accept the challenges as part of the job, but it doesn’t really feel like a job. It just feels like life.’

On average in the UK, a child comes into foster care every 15 minutes, and most have better outcomes when they can be placed with their brothers and sisters. Some foster families look after children on a short-term basis – for a few days or weeks. For many kids, fostering offers them a secure and loving home for their whole childhood.

However, Lorraine Kubski, of Care Visions says that many siblings have to be separated due to the lack of foster carers.

‘There is a recognised need for foster carers who are able to care for sibling groups and this was highlighted in Scotland by the National Care Review which advocates for brothers and sisters to remain together wherever possible and within their own communities,’ she explains.

‘But in practice, this is not always attainable. Placement choice can be affected by the lack of foster carers in a child’s local area and children may then need to be placed out with which can have several implications including having to change school, loss of friendships, and layers of additional trauma because their lives have been disrupted in so many ways.’

She adds: ‘Children placed within residential services often have a higher level of need than can be met in a foster family and there are usually specific reasons for seeking a residential placement.’

However, with the nuclear family firmly a thing of the past, foster carers don’t need to form a traditional family unit, as Nicola Fleming found out when she applied to be one.

With three children of her own, the 50-year-old from Glasgow is also a single foster carer to two disabled children, both with autism.

‘Initially I thought being single would be a barrier to fostering,’ she tells Metro.co.uk.

‘I went to a foster training night and was a nervous wreck because most of the other prospective carers were couples, but they told me being a single mum wouldn’t be an impediment and explained how it could enhance my life skills and boost my confidence in my own abilities, after all I did a good job raising my own children single headedly.’

A former support worker with a charity, Nicola’s own daughter has autism, and she says fostering was something she was always interested in.

She adds: ‘My children were away, and I felt I could still do more. I was working as a support worker at the time and because I had to give up the stability of my own job to foster, it was a lot to think about.’

That was four years ago, and now Nicola has embraced the role as foster carer to two children, aged 14 and 10.

‘When you take this young person into your home, they don’t know you, and you have to build trust and make them feel relaxed.

‘But it’s very rewarding to see how the children come on. The hardest part will be if either of them have to go.’

For more information about fostering visit www.carevisionsfostering.co.uk.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Kimberley.Bond@metro.co.uk 

Share your views in the comments below.

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As a nation we’re obsessed with cleanfluencer accounts. Between January and May, there were more than 163,000 cleaning content pieces uploaded on Instagram globally and 2,520,000,000 TikTok hits, according to analytics company WeArisma.

Meanwhile, the #cleanfluencers hashtags on TikTok has 6.6million views and @MrsHinchHome – one of the best-known of the online housekeepers – has 4.7 million Instagram followers; alongside a book, a product range and her own verb for cleaning; ‘to Hinch’.

However, for all the sparkling mirrors and shiny worktops, belies another story for many cleanfluencers.

Three years ago, Sophie Hinchcliffe, AKA Mrs Hinch, revealed how, fed up with her stomach being tied up in knots morning and night, she sought help from her GP for anxiety, and spoke out about how cleaning helped ease her mental health.

She’s not alone. Here, Metro.co.uk speaks to three other cleanfluencers about how sorting and ordering the home has helped them make sense of a troubled mind.

‘I used to clean my arms with bleach’

Author and This Morning expert Lynsey Crombie, known as Lynsey Queen of Clean, considers herself one of the earliest cleanfluencers. She fell into the role by accident after cleaning helped her process a traumatic past.

‘Cleaning and mental health go hand in hand. I found out my first husband was a paedophile 20 years ago when I was pregnant. He was arrested and I went into shock labour. Then I was suddenly left as a single parent with twins. I did counselling, CBT, all those things, but the only time I ever felt normal was when I was cleaning. 

It became an obsession. I went completely over the top and used an excessive amount of products. I was going through about 14 bottles of bleach a week in a two-bed house. I would take the lid off and throw it on the floor. 

I look back now and feel ashamed of how bad I was, but it was a response to the stress. The twins were born prematurely and I became a bit of a germaphobe; I was scared to put them on the floor. And I just wanted to scrub away the pain. The fact that I’d been married to a man like that… I used to clean my arms with bleach because he touched my skin. 

When I had my son with my second husband in 2008, things calmed down. We moved to a nice house and the past disappeared. I got it under control. 

I was on a TV show called Obsessive Compulsive Cleaners, and there was a scene on the show where I threw a whole bottle of bleach on the floor, then pine disinfectant, then a bottle of washing up liquid. I regret that now, as you need to use the right products and clean safely.

But  you make mistakes in life, you learn from them and you become a better person. I still use cleaning today to make me feel better; if I have an argument with my husband, or get a nasty message online, the first thing I’ll do is get the mop or the Hoover out, and do some rage-cleaning.

I used to clean for eight hours a day, but I’m hardly at home these days. Now I will probably clean for an hour in the morning when we get up and I always clean before we go to bed. If I’m working from home I will quickly do the bathroom between calls.

We talk about going for a run to release that pent up negativity but doing the housework is another great form of exercise and it relieves stress. And you’re always left with a fantastic end result. ‘

‘My laundry room is my joy’

While most of us like to watch TV to unwind, Yohann Dieul – ‘Frenchy’, likes to watch his washing machine. He explains how cleaning helped him deal with childhood anxiety.

‘I always had a passion for cleaning and I’ve done it from a very young age because as a small boy I was very anxious about everything; school, parties, anything around people. I was so shy, I couldn’t mingle with anyone. It was very difficult. 

I saw doctors who would try and diagnose me. They asked me to do drawings and they were all black. I felt embarrassed about everything; about saying things or doing things, and I felt like I was in a bubble on my own. I was trapped in anxiety. I was afraid of everything; I had a fear of dying, a fear of being ill, of not being able to communicate. 

I remember going to some of my parents’ friends when I was about five and they had a little toy broom and dustpan. I took them everywhere. I discovered that cleaning made me think of something else. When I picked up that broom, I forgot everything.

I grew up in a small village near Cognac, and I would come home from school alone, age seven or eight, do my homework and clean until my parents got back from work. I just couldn’t wait to get on that vacuum cleaner or do some dusting. It helped me escape. I would put some music on, probably Madonna – it was the eighties – and I would clean. It took me to another world. 

My parents would come home and say – “Oh, you’ve cleaned again.” But they would be happy because they saw me happy. And everything would be done. Cleaning set me free. My bedroom was spotless. Nothing was on the floor. Everything was dusted, everything was back in the cupboards. It was a safe space and it really helped me. 

I was diagnosed with anxiety when I was ten, but thankfully, things changed for me when I went to high school and I managed to be more open and sociable with people. 

But I carried on cleaning. At uni, everything in my room or my apartment was always spotless. Then I came to the UK 25 years ago to work as an au pair and I loved it. I worked internationally for a while, which involved a lot of travel and staying in hotels. I would take my wipes and disinfectant and bring things up to standard.

I now work as an administrator at a charity, so I don’t have loads of time for cleaning, but I do a bit every day, and maybe three or four hours at the weekend. In my home in Yorkshire, every single room is spotless; the bed is made, everything is tidy. All the cushions are where they should be, as are the knick-knacks. I own at least 15 vacuum cleaners, although I may have more if we include steam mops and carpet cleaners.

My laundry room is my joy and I spend quite a lot of time in there. I have two washing machines and one drier. Sometimes, I like to go in and just watch the clothes just going around. It is so calming and it smells amazing. It is like meditation for me. I don’t need yoga; I just need to watch my tumble dryer.’

‘When I was pregnant, I had a fetish for smelling dust’

Former glamour model and My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding star Danielle Mason, has now swapped the red carpets for a pair of rubber gloves. Danielle, who presents Good Housekeeping on shopping channel Ideal World and runs a cleaning business, says scrubbing the floors has helped her stay grounded during difficult times.

I have two kids – age 11 and 9 – and I think some of my love of cleaning stemmed from when I was pregnant. I had a fetish for smelling dust. I used to go and sit in my mum’s garage and smell the dust. I don’t know why. I also had a Saturday job at a Travelodge as a teenager and then I went on and off cleaning for different companies and set up my own business. So I have 20 years’ experience. 

I used to be married to someone from the Traveller community; so that’s where a lot of my know-how came from. I was with him for eight years and all we used to do was clean, clean, clean. I picked up so many hacks. Cleaning is a big part of the culture. You wouldn’t want anyone coming round if your place was untidy or unclean, so as soon as you’re up and you’ve got the kids ready and washed you start cleaning. And then you clean all day. 

We would clean the windows everyday – insides and out – so they would sparkle. Otherwise it’s an embarrassment. I did tidy and clean before but not to their standard. They opened my eyes to so much about cleanliness and cleaning products.

Some people are clueless about germs; cross contaminating like leaving a bathroom cloth in your kitchen sink; that’s filth. Washing your hands in your kitchen sink in the travel community is a no-no. You wash your hands in a separate sink outside. And shoes. They need to be taken off inside. People don’t realise how many germs the bottoms of your shoes carry through across your carpet where your kids lay their heads. All that stuff stuck with me. 

But I also learned a lot from my mum. I’m now working with Haier, a big house keeping brand, but I also still have a couple of private jobs that I won’t give up. I just love walking into a messy property and cleaning it up; I get real satisfaction from it. 

I have anxiety and I find cleaning really helps. I’ve had a really bad time in the past – things can be very up and down. My panic attacks have come back recently, so I’ve upped my medication, but the anxiety isn’t as bad as it used to be. I’m okay with it now. 

Cleaning stops you overthinking. If you’re feeling down about something, and don’t feel like cleaning, you just push yourself to do it and it uses up all that het-up energy.

Even if I won the lottery tomorrow, I would never let another cleaner in my house. I would do it all myself. I’ve watched other cleaners and I don’t always agree with what they’re doing.

My cleaning superpower is doing the windows and leaving no smears. If I go round someone’s house and they have dirty windows, I just want to get the cloth out and clean it.

And if I see a bit of dust, I like to run my finger across it. I have been at a house party before and cleaned the windows and done the washing up. People tell me it’s rude, but I don’t mean anything by it. I just like the feeling. I really do enjoy it. I love cleaning.’

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Kimberley.Bond@metro.co.uk 

Share your views in the comments below.

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Speaking in parliament on May 18, she told how seeing a stranger on a train platform who bore a resemblance to her attacker nearly triggered her into throwing herself in front of a train.

She also recalled how hearing the same piece of music played on the day her condition began made her vomit. And how her days living with this serious mental health condition have been a living hell.

An estimated 10% of the UK population are going through PTSD like Charlotte, and she wanted to speak out to help them.

However, she didn’t just want to assure them they weren’t alone, she was sharing her experience in a bid to highlight something she believes is a potential cure: psilocybin, the main psychedelic compound in magic mushrooms.

It’s a bold claim – but one, according to Dr Jo Neill, Professor of Psychopharmacology at the University of Manchester, is a valid one, as she has been working in drug discovery for psychiatry for 40 years.

As far as Professor Neill is concerned, psilocybin ‘heals people’. And she’s not the only expert alone in this belief.

‘“Heal” is not a word we generally use in psychiatry,’ Professor Neill tells Metro.co.uk. ‘We would love to heal people, but really we just help them to manage symptoms – often with drugs which come with potentially serious side effects.

‘But psychedelics are healing people, with just one or two doses of psilocybin, maybe with an occasional top-up,’ she insists. ‘It’s extraordinary, like nothing we’ve ever seen before and a complete paradigm shift in medicine that eliminates the side effect burden.’

This is why Charlotte Nichols is fighting so hard for patient access to psilocybin alongside 25 other cross-party members. She feels that the evidence supporting its medical use and safety is, in reality, strong.

‘I am hopeful that this sort of treatment may offer a light at the end of a very dark tunnel and finally give me my life back,’ she told the House of Commons.

Discussion surrounding psychedelic medicine has come into the mainstream in a big way in recent years. Celebrities such as Prince Harry and Drew Barrymore have voiced their support and personal experience with everything from mushrooms to Ayahuasca, a brew made from ingredients with hallucinogenic properties. While countries such as Australia have made the move to legalise psilocybin and MDMA for therapeutic use, due to the ever-growing body of evidence to support the remarkable benefits. 

However, here in the UK, despite numerous studies proving medical effects and no serious side effects, psilocybin remains a schedule 1 drug – which means officially it has no recognised medicinal value and is deemed more harmful than heroin. 

‘Psychedelic drugs don’t even fit the definition of a Schedule 1 drug,’ argues Professor Neill. ‘Not only does that keep these substances out of the hands of patients who need them, but it makes it very hard to do research, too.’

Keith Abraham, is CEO of Heroic Hearts (a charitable organisation which helps veterans access psychedelic treatments) and has also stepped in to plead for psychedelic-assisted therapy to be made available to veterans in need.

As part of the House of Commons debate in May, he sent an open letter to Veterans Minister, Johnny Mercer MP, calling on him to support the rescheduling of psilocybin so that veterans can get access to psychedelic treatment. Unfortunately, like all other members of parliament who could make the changes Keith felt were so desperately needed with immediate effect, he did not. 

However, although veterans are often at the forefront of this conversation, it’s actually rape that accounts for 49% of PTSD cases in the UK, followed by physical assault, sexual assault and sudden injury.

In 2013, a study from the University of South Florida revealed that psilocybin may help break the traumatic cycle of PTSD.

The research found how it stimulates the growth and repair of brain cells in the hippocampus – the centre for memory and emotion. After being given psilocybin, the mice studied were able to overcome fear conditioning at a much higher rate than those given a placebo.

Then, in the first study of its kind conducted on humans in 2018, researchers at the Institute of Psychiatry, Psychology & Neuroscience at King’s College London also provided evidence for safety. They found that administering 10-25mg doses of pure psilocybin caused no serious adverse effects, and no negative effects on cognitive and emotional functioning

Now, there are ‘phase 3’ clinical trials underway, where psychedelics are being directly compared with the best current treatments available.

So far psilocybin has been compared head to head with Escitalopram/Esketamine (commonly prescribed antidepressants with potentially severe side effects, including fatal overdose) for depression – a condition which affects more than 280 million people worldwide. In both cases, psilocybin was as effective as the pharmaceutical drug, however, the effects were much longer lasting. 

Yet despite all of this, someone in possession of magic mushrooms (which grow naturally in abundance across the UK), could wind up in prison for up to seven years.

‘The only risk that comes from these drugs is their illegal status, causing a lack of education,’ says Professor Neill. ‘I read a case report of a chap who injected himself with mushroom tea. He nearly died of a bacterial and fungal infection in his blood. Not because the mushrooms are inherently dangerous, but because they shouldn’t be injected into the bloodstream. That wouldn’t have happened if he was able to talk openly about how you should take it.’

Regardless of legal status, a huge proportion of the UK population are taking matters into their own hands, and taking psilocybin unlawfully. The 2021 Global Drug Survey revealed that 1 in 5 people in the UK illegally micro-dosed psychedelics such as magic mushrooms and LSD throughout the pandemic, to support their mental health. Over half of adults in the UK support the rescheduling of psilocybin.

Mum of one, Rebecca Allen Tap, 34, believes that psilocybin has been instrumental in helping her maintain good mental health since receiving a cancer diagnosis.

Although currently living in Bedfordshire, she’s originally from Oregon where psilocybin-assisted therapy is now legally available – albeit at a high cost.

She believes taking low doses of psychedelic mushrooms in capsule form helped her to come to terms with her rare cancer diagnosis when her son was just 14 months old.

‘I was diagnosed with neuroendocrine cancer [where tumours can develop in many different organs of the body] in 2019. It was entangled in my bronchial [tree, artery?] and didn’t respond to chemo or radiation, so I had to have my whole left lung removed,’ she tells Metro.co.uk.

After her diagnosis and surgery, Rebecca, who had never suffered from mental health issues previously, says she stopped seeing a future and ‘went to a really dark place’ during lockdown.

‘I was seriously vulnerable, so we lived in a bubble,’ she explains. ‘The fear and trauma of it all got to me. I felt sure the cancer would come back, that I’d never get to see my son grow up. It hurt me to be too close to him and I started to distance myself and do things to set him and his dad up for a life without me.

‘One day, I was ready to end it all. I was in the bathroom, pushing the boundaries of self-harm and I could hear my husband and son playing in the hallway. I burst into tears, realising that I couldn’t do this to them, but I was so hopeless.

‘I was nervous, so I decided to try micro-dosing using psilocybin capsules I got from a friend. I didn’t know what to expect,’ she recalls.

At the time, Rebecca was living in Oregon, USA, where psilocybin had just been made legal for therapeutic use in a supervised, clinical setting. She’d heard about the life-changing experiences others had, and how it was being used to treat depression, and wondered if it might help her too. 

Rebecca then started to take 0.12g for two or three days at a time for the whole of lockdown, buying mushrooms on the illegal market for under $100. It was a bargain compared to the prices on the legal market in Oregon which ranges from $500 – $3,500 per session, depending on the dose.

‘I didn’t have any visuals or profound experiences. I could go about my day normally,’ she says. ‘What I did notice was that I started to reclaim my life. I stopped self-harming, I started setting down roots like I was going to be around much longer.’

Next, Rebecca decided to try a 0.25mg dose as a tea, which she took once a week, eventually titrating the dose to 0.5mg.

‘This time I noticed some effects,’ she remembers. ‘Colours were brighter. I could hear the birds. I laughed until it hurt. The heaviness I’d been feeling began to melt away. Instead of running from my fears, I started asking “Why am I afraid of these things? And how can I rectify them?”. I had hope.”

Even with low doses, Rebecca says she saw huge benefits and feels she has become a better mother because of it. 

Although she’s since been given the all clear, Rebecca’s keen to continue taking psilocybin, even in a larger dose, as she believes that could help her overcome more of the trauma from her cancer diagnosis. However, she admits that she’s scared about dark thoughts coming to the surface in a ‘proper’ trip. 

‘Ideally I’d love to take a higher dose in a safe, clinical setting,’ she adds. ‘I’d feel much safer in that situation.’

However, in the UK, that’s not an option. Yet. 

With the wellness industry now worth around £2.8 trillion worldwide, according to the Global Wellness Institute, something particularly unusual about plant (or fungi) medicines like psilocybin though, is the spiritual aspect.

For just as long as these mushrooms have been used therapeutically, they’ve been used in rituals and ceremonies, and Professor Neill believes we may be entering an unprecedented time in history, where spiritual and clinical worlds must collide. 

‘There are many clinicians who are very keen to combine the two approaches,’ she explains. ‘The psychedelic Renaissance has brought this idea to the fore because the impact of psychiatric therapy in conjunction with the psychedelic is so important.

‘We’re in a cost of living crisis. The NHS has been decimated. People have a much better understanding now that we desperately need to come through a pandemic and global mental health crisis in a different, holistic way.’

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His heart sank. Another milestone missed because he was at work.

‘Something like that just makes you long to be at home to be in those moments, not just seeing them on the screen,’ recalls Billy.

While the issues of high childcare costs and inflexible working conditions have received wide coverage and action in recent years, it’s something that is still continues to be thought of as a ‘women’s issue’.

‘It’s very much framed as the mother’s problem,’ says Jeremy Davies, who runs the Fatherhood Institute think tank. ‘It would be helpful for people to be really careful when childcare issues are discussed and debated – and for it not to be talked about a women’s issue.

‘Mothers have been dealing with unsupportive workplaces for decades and maternity discrimination remains a major issue. The challenge now for employers is to move away from sexist assumptions that affects both fathers and mothers and start to level the playing field.’

For men who want to be hands-on fathers, there is little understanding in the workplace surrounding the reasons why dads, not just mums, need increased flexibility in the weeks after birth right through the earliest years of a child’s life.

Indeed, research from the campaigning group Pregnant Then Screwed found that 8 in 10 dads say their employer wasn’t not doing enough to support fathers in the workplace.

‘Children with highly involved fathers tend to benefit enormously from their input, but these benefits aren’t limited to children who live with their fathers full-time,’ Jeremy tells Metro.co.uk. ‘Children in separated families can also flourish, especially if mum and dad learn how to co-parent effectively across households.’

Before fans started rolling into the Premiere League Football stadium on game day, groundsman Billy Beech could be found making sure the pitch was perfect.

‘We’d often be working seven days a week,’ the 33-year-old says. ‘If we were preparing for a game, we’d be there at 6am and not leave until 9pm at night. They were very long days. It was a really demanding job.’

When Billy and his wife Sam had their first daughter Penny in February 2019, the couple decided that Sam would stay at home to avoid paying the high price of childcare.

‘I got the standard two weeks off of work when Penny was born, and then was back to work,’ he says. After that, the only days off he had with ‘his girls’ were when he’d work a 16-hour match day which was followed up with a day off in lieu.

He was contracted to work from Monday to Friday, and often worked weekends, only occasionally given a weekend off on the rota.

During his two weeks of paternity leave, Billy made every effort to bond with Penny, soaking up the time that was quickly running out. When his time was up, he went back to work, leaving his wife to figure out how to parent alone.

‘It felt like snapping back to the real world,’ he remembers. ‘It was a shock to the system to be apart suddenly. This amazing new chapter we started together was continuing on without me on weekdays.”

Billy remembers how his return to work impacted Sam, who was recovering from a C-section delivery and struggling with her mental health.

‘It was hard on her. I was away weeks on end,’ he recalls. ‘It’s difficult with postnatal depression and the exhaustion of being with that child.’

For the first two years of Penny’s life, Billy felt he missed out on so many key moments, often coming home after a week at work seeing his daughter looked different than at the start of the week.

As a father, he wanted to support his family financially, but felt it was coming at the expense of connection with them, he explains.

‘The way we’ve been raised is that we have to work and sacrifice to give our families what they deserve,’ says Billy. ‘But then we give all our time to someone else so we can earn enough to give them that life we think they deserve.’

At the start of 2021, he decided to leave his career and join his wife, who had recently started a childminding business out of their home.

‘Penny just became a person,’ Billy says of his daughter, who is now four. ‘In the early stages, they are babies. Then toddlers. Then all the sudden, they’re this little person. I would have missed that.’

Along with Billy, the childcare initiative tiney has seen a rise in the number of men training to be childminders out of their homes.

‘The pandemic and the new ways of working it ushered in has caused many parents to re-evaluate their careers and prompted them to seek out jobs that truly do fit around family life,’ explains Brett Wigdortz, founder of tiney. ‘It’s no surprise that many of them landed on childminding: it’s an opportunity to run your own business whilst spending time with your own children. Even more so than a regular home working role, childminding means that fathers are making a living by directly engaging with their little ones. They no longer have to worry about missing out.’

The first connections a father forms with his child are some of the most precious, however at present, 80% of fathers are only offered two weeks off for paternity leave in the UK. According to data from Pregnant Then Screwed, one in four dads don’t even manage to take the full two weeks, saying they couldn’t afford to take it, as Paternity Pay is set at just £172.48 per week.

‘The evidence suggests that what happens in the first year of life is really important for the rest of childhood,’ says Jeremy. ‘Year one is when patterns of behaviour becomes fixed and can be difficult to shift. It is why parental leave is so important. Men and women are set off on different courses from the start.

‘The father becomes this slightly marginal figure who isn’t as good at a lot of it as the mother because he isn’t there,’ he continues. ‘Whereas the mum is getting really good at knowing what the baby wants. She’s been thrown in the deep end and has worked out a whole load about how the baby ticks and how to meet its needs. Whether she wants to or not, she becomes the expert, the fount of all knowledge about the household.’

However, if dads had increased amounts of time off in those early weeks and months of childhood, the ongoing load of parenthood has potential to be carried with increased levels of equity.

‘When fathers and partners take paternity leave, it supports the mother’s return to the labour market,’ Joeli Brearley, CEO of Pregnant Then Screwed, tells Metro.co.uk. ‘But when it comes to paternity leave, fathers are being hugely let down in the workplace – just 18% of Brits think that the current paternity leave is long enough.’

Data from a YouGov survey supports Brearley’s claim. It found that 65% of mothers with children under the age of 12 thought that increasing paid paternity leave would have a positive impact on mothers’ readiness to return to work.

In a new groundbreaking report from Pregnant Then Screwed and the Centre for Progressive Policy, it was reported that a six week increase of paternity leave and pay could reduce the gender pay gap and help equalise men and women’s participation in the labour market.

Another solution would be for delayed paternity leave.

‘Our model of what a supportive employer and government could offer. Fathers would have their own chunk of leave paid at a good rate later on in year one, a minimum of a month,’ Davies adds. ‘It’s for him. It allows him the possibility of taking a good chunk of time off and developing his own relationship with the baby solo.’

It’s thought that not only would this proposal gives fathers time to make their own routines, but also embolden mothers with the confidence to head back to work.

It isn’t only the first year of life that fathers need support from the workplace though.

Recent research from Dr. Jasmine Kelland at the University of Plymouth shows that fathers more involved with their children’s lives face forfeits at work – they get fewer opportunities to progress, less support from management, and are more likely to be mistreated socially.

While many mums would argue this isn’t an issue exclusive to fathers, dads aretwice as likely to have their flexible working requests turned down than mothers.

‘There’s no doubt that fathers who become more involved in caregiving can experience challenges in the workplace,’ says Kyle Green of the charity Working Families. ‘A lot of this is down to culture. Creating a place where fathers are supported at work is vital to combatting gender inequality and the gender pay gap, ensuring better family outcomes, and—on the employer’s side—improving talent attraction and retention.’

For Dr Anas Nader, even before he had his own child, he knew his job as an A&E doctor wouldn’t be conducive to having children.

‘It’s a rigid career, very prescriptive – especially for trainee doctors,’ the 38-year-old tells Metro.co.uk. ‘It’s unpredictable and lacks a lot of stability you would want as a parent as to choosing when to work and where to work.’

When he was working, he recalls dads in the common rooms talking about how their kids were growing up and they wished they could see them more often.

‘The NHS has made progress in supporting mothers, but not so much with dads,’ adds Anas. ‘I think it’s primarily stemming from the traditional definition of parenting between mums and dads. Although I think the younger generation of employees who really do value being hands on dads, our institutions aren’t catching up fast enough.’

Daydreaming about the future of having his own children, Anas accepted he would have to sacrifice either parts of his career or his parenting.

‘I’d be missing critical, magical moments in those early years,’ he says. ‘I guess it’s part of the trade off you make in a career like that, but I think we need to move beyond that narrative, I think with better recruitment and retention, we can distribute workforce so people aren’t missing as many weeks and nights away from their kids.’

Reaching the point of burnout in 2017 when working up to 60 hours a week and seeing the issues around the lack of flexible working for employees within the NHS, Anas decided to start his own company – Patchwork Health – helping healthcare staff access flexible work.

‘The difference [in the job I’m doing now] is the level of flexibility and control I have compared to my role in the NHS,’ Anas says. ‘Without any power over how and when our hours are worked, it can be impossible for healthcare staff to fit work around other commitments and responsibilities, like being a parent.’

It was timely, because in 2021, his first daughter was born. In his new role, he could be involved with morning, evening, and weekend routines, and has the pleasure of helping other parents access the same flexibility.

‘I’ll never not be grateful for the time I was able to spend with our daughter,’ he says. ‘It also enabled me to support my wife in ways I may not have been able to otherwise.

‘Whether that was being there with our daughter in the morning so she could catch up on sleep after staying up to do the night feeds, or taking care of life admin while she focused on the baby. Being able to show up fully as a partner and support both her and our daughter during those early days was so important to me, and I’m grateful to have had the flexibility to do this.’

Since he’s become a father, many of his past NHS colleagues have been in touch in touch, telling Anas how they are struggling to fit parenthood around their workloads.

‘This shouldn’t be the case,’ he says. ‘Both fathers and mothers working within the NHS should be able to access a more flexible way of working that enables them to maintain the careers they have worked so hard for while being the parents they also want to be.

‘It has reinforced for me just how rigid the options around work and parenthood have traditionally been,’ he adds.

‘While we’ve moved away from the all-or-nothing attitude which has historically seen women expected to give up work completely in order to have children, many parents are still having to make significant career sacrifices.’

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Kimberley.Bond@metro.co.uk 

Share your views in the comments below.

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The match against Dulwich Hamlet FC was no ordinary one – for the first time ever, an 11-a-side team comprised entirely of transgender men had taken to the pitch on Trans Day of Visibility for a game no one would forget. 

While they may have lost 8-1 at the final whistle, the team succeeded in whipping up demand for trans-inclusive spaces, with one image of the match racking up more than four million views on Twitter. 

The inaugural game has since prompted thousands of people from across the world to get in touch with messages of support and questions on how to set up their own team. 

But this isn’t the first time the LGBTQ+ football club has made history. 

Last year, TRUK United FC assembled the first ever team comprised entirely of trans women in a match against Dulwich Women’s FC, reigniting conversations around the importance of inclusivity in sport. 

The introduction of the world’s first all trans-masc team comes amid the growing weaponisation of trans inclusion in sport, with UK Athletics becoming the latest sporting body to ban trans women from participating fully across its events in March.

It follows the decisions of FINA, British Cycling and the English, Welsh and Irish Rugby Unions to suspend their gender participation policies, effectively preventing trans women from taking part in competitions. 

Findings from an OutSport survey published in 2019 reveal more than half of trans adults feel excluded from playing certain sports or have stopped playing altogether as a result of exclusion based on their gender identity. 

For TRUK United FC, a safe-haven for players all too often afraid of taking part in football for fear of exclusion, the need to create inclusive spaces amid the global erosion of trans rights is more important than ever. 

And the LGBTQ+ club which was founded by the world’s first transgender referee, Lucy Clark, in 2021, has risen to the challenge, organising a number of matches for its all new trans-masc team, including one in July to coincide with Brighton’s Trans Pride. 

For Pride Month, Metro.co.uk spoke to the players on the significance of its historic match against Dulwich FC, and their message to young trans people discouraged from participating in sport.

‘We’re spreading hope’

The world’s first transgender referee recognised by the FA, it was the fear of rejection that almost convinced Lucy Clark, 51, to hang up her whistle in 2018. However, after a spate of heart attacks, the TRUK United FC founder embraced her identity, with a renewed conviction football should be a place for everyone. 

‘Football has just always been such a massive part of my life, especially when I was going through my teenage years. I knew what was going on inside my head in terms of my gender identity, but I couldn’t tell anyone – so I threw myself into football because you forget about everything else that’s going on in the world. 

I’ve known I’ve been trans for all of my life, but I never told anyone until I told my wife, Avril, quite early on in our relationship. I couldn’t go through the rest of my life with someone living this lie, but we both lived a double life for a while because I was worried about how it would affect everyone. 

Eventually I couldn’t suppress it anymore and I first went to the gender identity clinic in 2015. I started on hormones and changed my name legally, but it was getting harder to hide myself from the football world, to the point when I decided 2018 was going to be my last season. 

I thought the football world wouldn’t accept me, but then I suffered a number of heart attacks when I was 45. It was while spending Christmas in hospital that I decided I would continue refereeing and come out, so I gave the FA, who I’ve been working with for 12 years, the heads up to let them know what I’d be doing. I’ve refereed more than 1,000 games, and I couldn’t just give it up.

From day one of my coming out I had people contacting me telling me that I’d inspired them, but I also had a lot of people reaching out to me saying they wish there was a football team they could play for and feel included.

I first floated the idea of setting up TRUK United FC at the beginning of 2021 and there was a massive response. We had no kits and started the club with no money, but we played our first game in September of that year. 

We’ve now got 200 players on the books from all over the UK, and it’s incredible to see the amount of joy we’ve brought to people over the last 18 months.

We played our match last year with the first ever team in the world of trans women, and since then we’ve been trying to find ways to outdo ourselves – so we decided to set up a team made up entirely of trans men. We’re constantly finding ways to spread hope for those trans people who’ve been discouraged from playing sports. 

Recently we had a player make their debut for us during a match and I could see his joy in finally being able to put on a football kit again without fear of exclusion – it was amazing. This is how we started, and it’s absolutely incredible to see that we’re getting that exposure. We’re spreading hope and making history, and to those out there who’ve seen the various bans on trans participation in sport and might feel discouraged – follow your dreams.’

‘I couldn’t anticipate the level of response’

For Arthur Webber, 25, captaining the first ever all trans-masc team is something his young self would have barely believed.

‘I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t into football. In-fact, my mum likes to jokingly blame my dad for making me trans by making me watch the 1998 World Cup as a baby, so it’s very much been in my blood since I was born.

I didn’t start supporting a team until I was seven when I had dreams of scoring for Arsenal. I would often play football in the back garden before joining my local boys’ team. Luckily, my dad knew the coach and he also knew that I would flatly refuse to play for the girls’ team. 

I didn’t know what being trans actually meant until I was 13 when I came to terms that I was going to be different from the other boys and that being a professional footballer wouldn’t happen for me. 

As soon as I moved to secondary school, I was told that I could only play in teams on the basis of sex. That was difficult, because I wasn’t aware of transitioning or that it was something I could do. 

After reading an article that briefly mentioned trans men in it, I realised that not transitioning wasn’t an option – even if it meant having to sacrifice football because I couldn’t stay in the girls’ team.

I stopped following Arsenal so closely thinking that I couldn’t play football anywhere. Even watching Match of The Day was too much. It was sad because I was moving away from something that connected me with a lot of friends and was a sport I cared greatly about. 

When I came out at 20, I joined Facebook groups to connect me to LGBT+ football, but I didn’t become aware of TRUK United until I was 23. When I did, I knew I wanted to be a part of them having seen them assemble the first ever all trans-feminine team for their match on Trans Day of Visibility. 

After that I got talking with management and played games for the all-inclusive team back in July last year. Lucy sat me down and said she wanted to recreate the same match but for trans men, and asked if I’d be up for being captain of the team. We both put call-outs for players on social media and soon had a dozen or so people approach us wanting to play. 

We had a mix of players from semi-professional league players to those who hadn’t kicked a ball for years, so trying to make sure that everybody had a great time I knew would be nerve-wracking. 

It was just nice to get onto a pitch and be around a group of people with very similar stories to me while kicking a ball around. We didn’t expect to win, because many of us have never even met before. In the warm up before the game we only had five minutes to try and learn each other’s names. 

But when we scored that was a really empowering moment for us all. We were celebrating being able to create a space for people, rather than our performance. Since the match, we’ve had hundreds of people reaching out expressing an interest. Now, we have players from all over the UK play for us, not just London. We’re TRUK United for a reason.’

‘There’s always a place for trans people in sport’

Freddie, 26, had played football from childhood but says that he could never have imagined he’d be part of a history-making team.

‘I’d say compared to some of the other guys on the TRUK United team, I’m a bit of an outlier. Because I transitioned quite early as a teenager and then I took the approach of going stealth – I didn’t disclose to anybody after I left university that I was trans which did create certain stresses in terms of hiding aspects of yourself when playing on other teams. 

There’s always been an element of being a little bit guarded, especially around those who don’t know me, and a fear of what would happen if they did discover I was trans. Although it helped me to live my life, it isolated me and until I discovered the trans-masc team, I was the only trans person I knew. 

I really wanted to play with people who were like me and actually wanted to be in a changing room with those who were like me and faced similar challenges in everyday life. I wanted to show that there’s no reason we are less than other men.

I can’t think of a time where I’ve met a group of strangers and felt comfortable in such a short amount of time – when we were warming up, we were trying to learn each other’s names, but there was still a really strong sense of camaraderie which is something I’ve never really experience before. 

I’v played football since I was a child, but I didn’t think when I was transitioning that I would be walking onto a pitch as part of the first ever all trans-masc team, and it wasn’t until we scored our first goal and I saw the reaction of the crowd that I didn’t realise just how big this was.

Being part of that historic event made me realise that there is always a place for trans people in sport.’

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Kimberley.Bond@metro.co.uk 

Share your views in the comments below.

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Tony Pemberton works hard to stay young.

‘I didn’t want to be decrepit and look awful when I was older,’ the 37-year-old tells Metro.co.uk. ‘I wanted to get more out of life.’

He also swears by peptide therapy – using a vast range of supplements to stimulate cellular regrowth – to reverse the natural ageing process. He takes an astounding 25 different supplements a day, specifically tailored to his needs. 

While he may have been born nearly four decades ago, Tony, who works as an expert in epigenetics (the study on how your behaviours and environment impact your genes), claims his biological age is just 22. He also says he wakes up with a newfound ‘zest for life’ and energy he didn’t have when he was younger.

Which is funny in a way, as his routine feels incredibly knackering just to read.

While Tony’s quest for eternal youth may seem extreme, it’s nothing compared to that of Bryan Johnson, whose daily routine would make even the hardiest Olympic athlete wince – and has seen the Tech company CEO make headlines recently. 

His mornings starts at 4.30am, just as the sun starts to creep up. In this low daylight, Byran completes a two and a half hour routine which consists of rigorous therapies, exercise, nutrients and supplements. His bespoke diet, uniquely crafted for him by an ensemble of medical experts, consists of legumes, nuts, vegetables and seeds, adding up to exactly 1977 calories a day.

Bryan is 45 years old, but his toned, muscular physique and eerily smooth, pallid countenance, wrinkle-free and strangely glowing, doesn’t betray his true age.

However, unlike Tony, he’s gone that step further than peptide and handfuls of supplements, and now has blood plasma transfusions with his 17-year-old son to observe whether this could impact the ageing process.

‘I spend $2million a year to stay a teenager forever,’ Bryan told Fortune magazine earlier this year.

Society at large may not have the financial resources (or indeed the patience) to mirror Bryan’s extensive and somewhat baffling routine, but he and Tony are far from alone from trying to recapture and prolong his youth. A 2019 study found 80% of people want to improve their personal wellbeing and appearance, with 36% prepared to go under the knife in order to stop any signs of ageing.

The insular nature of the pandemic, paired alongside the prevalence of Zoom calls during lockdown, is what has accelerated the already increasing demand for cosmetic treatments and tweakments in  a bid to look younger, explains Dr Raj Arora. As the founder of The Face Bible, she helps clients to create bespoke anti-ageing plans with a holistic approach to health and skincare.

‘As people are online more thanks to social media and video calls, we’re seeing more filtered, preened and youthful faces,’ she tells Metro.co.uk. ‘There’s an increased interest in looking younger for longer, and ageing gracefully.

‘There is more pressure to look a certain way – but there’s also a glut of information out there which is more easily accessible: you can find out about great skincare treatments on social media.’

Dr Arora recommends clients start with a chemical peel to target fine lines and wrinkles, before moving on to a cocktail of more progressive treatments such as lasers and needling.

However, she also stresses that having a youthful visage is not particularly useful if your body is being battered by stress, tiredness or poor diet.

‘There’s no point ageing well with your skin if you’re not doing well with your general health,’ she adds. ‘It’s important that people talk to their doctors in regards to fuelling themselves properly.’

BANT registered nutritionist Eva Humphries also argues the importance of a balanced diet in keeping us younger. It sounds obvious, but eating healthily – even without the extreme measures undertaken by Silicon Valley billionaires – can help reverse signs of ageing.

Vitamin D and selenium – a component of enzymes that help to make DNA and protect against cell damage and infections – are two of the most pertinent variables to control ageing.

‘Nutrition plays a twofold part,’ Eva explains. ‘It mitigates the damage that accelerates ageing, while also ensures we have the right nutrients to repair after damage has been done.

‘Sugar is the component that breaks down this structures and can lead to quicker visible ageing. If we look at people like Bryan Johnson, who are artificially controlling their blood sugar, that wold certainly mean it reduces the impact on their bodies.’

Tony admits that’s his strict anti-ageing regime was born out of a ‘fear of growing old.’

‘But it’s not all about vanity – though that plays a part,’ he insists. ‘When I’m 50, I want the energy of a 30-year-old. I don’t want to worry about getting “too old” for doing anything.’

Eva agrees that there’s a deep running fear of old age amongst western society.

‘There’s lots of negative bias towards ageing,’ she explains. ‘We associate it with disability, with not being able to do the things we really want us to do. Most of us are scared of it.

‘We look at 80 year olds and fear we’ll end up in a care home in pain. We look at the very negative aspects at the very end of life.’

This ongoing phobia of ageing may be why there are concentrated efforts, mostly undertaken by the super-rich, to try and cheat death. Altos Labs, who counts billionaire Amazon chairman Jeff Bezos as one of their backers, has assembled a crack team of scientists with the aim in finding a way to rejuvenate human cells. Their efforts aren’t a misguided attempt to create immortal human beings, rather, fight diseases associated with old age, such as dementia, that can substantially decrease our quality of life in our later years.

The Alzheimer’s Society puts the current cost of dementia to the UK at £34.7 billion a year – a figure that is set to almost triple by 2040.

For Professor Janet Lord CBE, who works at the University of Birmingham’s Institute of Inflammation and Ageing, it’s vital that we focus on increasing not just our lifespan, but our health span.

‘The aim of this research is to help people live a long life but have a short death,’ she explains. ‘The UK data shows on average, women are ill for the last 19 years of life, while for men it’s around 16 years. Even if we could reduce this number by one or two years, the benefit to the individual but also to the NHS and society, would literally amount to billions of pounds.

‘This is a very exciting field as we’re finally putting vast sums of money into an area of medicine that has previously been neglected. If we study certain diseases and find they’re caused by ageing, if we find a viable way to slow down the ageing process, we may be able to treat these diseases.

‘It’s about maximising our health span. There’s no point living forever if we’re going to spend a lot of that time sick.’

Professor Lord is scathing over experimental measures some of the super-rich favour, such as cryogenics and blood plasma transfusion. Cryogenics – freezing your body after you die – has been something the rich and eccentric have long thought to have invested in.  

Alcor, based in Arizona, reportedly has around 100 dead bodies on ice. For a princely sum of $230,000, you can freeze your dead carcass in liquid nitrogen in the hope that you can be regenerated in the future. For $90,000, you can choose just to have your head stored, with the hope it may be attached to a new, young body in the future.

‘There’s literally no evidence cryogenics will ever work,’ Dr Lord says. ‘It’s totally crazy and who would want to do it anyway? Why would you want to be unthawed in the future when all your friends and family are dead? Old age is to be enjoyed, not endured.’

Dr Lord continues that, should there be some miracle drug or procedure that can slow ageing, it cannot only be solely the preserve of the super-rich. Death is society’s great leveller, and so to prohibit access to the masses to a drug which could lead them to live a longer, happier life, would result in a dystopian two tier society.

‘We already have a gap in life expectancy between higher and lower socio-economic backgrounds,’ she explains. ‘Whatever the treatment, it is vital it is widely accessible.’

We are a long way off before these sorts of sci-fi-esque treatments are a reality. However, Dr Lord points towards fairly basic and widely obvious ways in which people fearful of ageing can do to keep themselves healthy.

‘There was a big study on 30,000 people which found that you can add 14 years to your lifespan if you practise healthy living,’ she explains. ‘It’s quite simple: if you don’t smoke, eat five portions of fruit and vegetables a day, do 150 minutes of aerobic exercise a week, and have a moderate alcohol intake.

‘Of course, I try and practise what I preach.’

For 102-year-old Gladys McGarey, the secret for living a long and fulfilled life is having a purpose to keep us going.

Residing in Scottsdale, Arizona, Gladys is still a practising doctor, and was one of the first physicians in the United States to adopt a holistic approach to medicine.

She has now written a The Well Lived Life – a tome advising the six secrets to long lasting health and happiness.

‘In essence, the secret is to live in every moment,’ she explains. ‘As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more content, and I have my rich bank of memories to thank for that.’

Gladys is disparaging of the stricter regimes the one percent swear by to reverse ageing.

‘If you sit down at the table and you’re being told to eat food, and you’re sat there with a scowl on your face, it’s not going to do much good,’ she explains.

‘Why eat things that make you miserable? Laughter and joy is what is the most important thing. When we laugh, that activates the diaphragm. It tickles the adrenals and gives us adrenal energy. Laughter and joy aidseiyh healing.’

Gladys’s claims are not unfounded. A study published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences found that older people who reported being the least happy died at nearly twice the rate in the next five years as people who reported being the most happy.

Even after adjusting for factors like illness, finances and depression, people who were the happiest still had a 35% lower risk of death.

‘The most important thing is living in a way that makes your heart sing,’ she continues. ‘Life is about living wildly. If you no longer have that purpose, maybe it is time to move on.’

The Well-Lived Life by Dr. Gladys McGarey is out now (published by Penguin Michael Joseph).

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‘Nah, there isn’t any support at all,’ adds Liam*, from London, who’s just finished serving 12 years.

‘I was 16 when I went in and 28 when I was released – the transition in that time, it doesn’t get bigger than that, coming out as an adult.

‘Prison didn’t help me. They didn’t take anything into consideration. I asked to open a bank account, I asked for a form of ID, because I knew all of these things I’d need on the outside, and the prison basically didn’t do anything.’

This is a reality claimed by all of the ex-offenders Metro.co.uk spoke to, who are taking part in an initiative by one charity that helps them get back on their feet.

Called Switchback, the organisation supports former prisoners in London, through work experience, mentorship, and even funding for things like driving lessons.

While around 50% of people leaving prison end up reoffending within a year, for the men going through Switchback programmes, that statistic falls to just 9%.

And their work cannot be underestimated. One of their key partners is The Dusty Knuckle, a bakery in east London, which offers traineeships to ex-offenders.

Sitting in the busy bakery, one of their former trainees, Liam, tells Metro.co.uk how he wrote to Switchback while still in custody after seeing them mentioned on a laptop he was using in prison.

‘It wasn’t guaranteed I was going to get out as I didn’t have a release date, but I contacted them anyway because I believed I was,’ he explains.

Although he was fortunate that he didn’t need to worry about finding a home upon release, as his dad had arranged accommodation, employment was a concern.

However, once Liam embarked on his three-month training scheme at The Dusty Knuckle, he knew in his gut he’d go on to get a full-time role there.

‘I came out 29 December, and by the second week of January I was here. It all happened fast, but I needed that to show me this is reality,’ he explains.

‘I had to get used to working everyday, because I’ve never worked. Getting upearly, having some sense of responsibility and needing to turn up on time so I don’t lose my job – it’s a new life to adjust to. There are some areas where I struggle a bit, but I know it’s such a big transition, so I don’t let it stress me out.

‘I don’t intent to work here forever, this is for money now while I look into other things. I’m still seeing what’s available and taking each step at a time.’

And, for the time being, The Dusty Knuckle is a great place to be. The bakery is buzzing, with a non-stop flow of customers ordering cakes and coffees while we speak, and the employees are young, from bakers to baristas.

A few regulars come up to Liam to say ‘hello’, and you can feel a sense of community among the staff and customers, who snack on freshly made pastries (which you can watch being prepared), bread, and sarnies – some of which gets delivered to cafes in the area too owing to their high quality.

By 11am, they’re almost sold out of the first batch.

James* is another staff member that’s come through the partnership.

At just 21, he’s newly released from prison and is a paid trainee – he says being here has given him a ‘fresh start’.

‘While I was incarcerated, my mum reached out to Switchback, so I had a meeting and it went on from there,’ he tells Metro.co.uk.

‘At first, I wasn’t too keen on it, but I ended up going and started to like it. I haven’t been in this type of environment before, but it’s nice here and I like making coffees and serving people.

‘I’m used to being just with my friends, so working with others that I’m not normally around, it’s good to hear from them and know what their paths are and hear their stories.’

James admits he was worried at first about being ‘judged’, given his recent past, and what life would be like after release.

‘They always say you’re going to end up in the s*** and come back to prison,’ he explains.

‘My main focus was just not to come back, and that’s what I’m doing right now.

‘I’ll be honest, there wasn’t much support with rehabilitation where I was, and it felt like they do the bare minimum for mental health in prison. It was so they could say “Yeah we help people”, but then don’t actually put a lot into it.’

Switchback, by comparison, was a breath of fresh air, says James. Now he has a mentor he sees weekly who is ‘always checking up’ on him.

‘He’s made my journey easier for me,’ James adds. ‘Support is a big thing when you come out, because sometimes you just feel like you’re by yourself. But when you have someone behind you that’s not your family, who’s trying to steer you in the right direction and open up doors for you, it’s good.’

As for the future, James hopes to move on from The Dusty Knuckle – which is always intended to be a stepping stone – and train as a tradesman.

‘Hopefully, if I’m good enough, I can open up my own business and be my own boss – that’s always what I’ve wanted to do,’ he says.

Though The Dusty Knuckle only began their relationship with Switchback in 2019, working with young people who face barriers to employment has always been in the fabric of the company since it was founded five years prior.

Max Tobias, one of the bakery’s co-founders, had spent ten years working in youth violence and gang prevention, so building a social enterprise was important to him.

The motto the bakery operates on is: ‘Young people who make bad choices do so because, for them, they are the best option at the time.’ They work with prisons, charities and families, offering training to ex-offenders, refugees, asylum seekers, and those with disabilities, among others.

Demand for the programme is growing rapidly owing to their success stories. While last year the bakery trained 23 people, from January to May 2023, already it’s at 26. They’re expecting numbers to quadruple in the next year.

Charlie Atkinson, 38, The Dusty Knuckle’s youth training programme manager, says she sees her job as ‘providing the best place possible for people to make their steps of change’.

‘In a short space of time, there’s such a shift in their confidence and self-esteem,’ she tells Metro.co.uk.

‘A lot of trainees are worried about interacting with the general public and what they’ll think of them, but in this atmosphere people feel really free. My favourite thing is when people have done their 12 weeks and they say they’re ready to go off out into the world.’

The traineeship gives people a chance to get a clearer sense of what might be next – something that Liam says is essential, as a lack of clarity on can be one of the many factors in why people offend.

‘I didn’t know where I was heading, and it’s probably the reason I ended up getting involved in certain things,’ he reflects. ‘My area played a part – things that are cool or glamorised, they’re often not good. That comes from poverty.

‘I also didn’t have any guidance – no one really questioned me, and I was quite naïve. I can’t fault my parents because they didn’t know, but I was 15 at the time when things happened and you just follow your friends.’

Mentors, provided by Switchback, play a huge role in providing that guidance post-prison. Even though Liam has technically finished his mentorship, he still is in touch with his, Tashan Lane-Pierre, 28, and their relationship has continued on.

‘Mentors can give you better advice because they understand it and they’ve been through it, rather than someone who might care, but don’t know it,’ he explains.

Tashan does get it, as he too has served time in prison – a year and a half in his early 20s – and now he is employed by the charity full time as a mentor, after using their services himself.

‘In my opinion, charities like this shouldn’t actually exist, if the prison system, the resettlement teams and probation were funded properly and doing their jobs,’ he says.

In theory, prisons should provide access to resettlement services, such as career and CV help, and support with housing. In practice, this isn’t always how it pans out.

‘When I was inside, I saw my mentor from Switchback more than I saw my resettlement team, so you can get an idea of how much support I had through the prison itself,’ Tashan adds.

He explains that the way the scheme works is, when people have three months left of their sentence, they go on a list that mentors can access, and so the charity might reach out to people from that list. Offenders and their families can also make the first move.

To be eligible, they need to be aged 18-30, returning to London, and have no terrorist, arson, or sexual offences, no immigration issues and no outstanding cases.

Then they’ll be connected with someone who potentially has lived experience, such as Tashan.

‘I’ve always liked teaching and I used to work in a nursery. I’m the eldest of seven so I’m always trying to help people anyway,’ he explains. ‘Once the charity helped me, I thought I could do this as well.’

Tashan tells Metro.co.uk that he received help in the way of employment and mental health support. Years on after lockdown, he went back to them and did an internship – now he mentors between three to five people at a time, seeing them all a minimum of once a week.

‘Before I went to prison, I knew the system was bad. But as I’ve come out and got in this job, I’ve realised it really needs a proper overhaul,’ he says. ‘It’s something like two thirds of people come out homeless, no bank account, no form of ID – and you can’t get a job without that. It’s like a cycle. It’s diabolical.

‘You’re trying to sort out all these things, and your mental health is just deteriorating because nothing is getting done – yet people expect you to be happy all the time and to change your life. How are you going to if you don’t have the fundamental things?’

Tashan has seen first-hand the consequences a lack of support can trigger. He says that, in his experience, re-offending only happens when people aren’t in a good set of circumstances.

‘Maybe they’ve lost their job, or their house, or they’ve come out and things aren’t going well. So when they don’t have the support, they think “What’s the point? I’m trying and getting nowhere”,’ he explains.

‘I think there should be an organisation like this in every major city, because I’ve seen it change a lot of people in a short space of time. Many people come to us quite shy and wary, because they worry are we going to be the same as everywhere else – a lot of promises not kept.

‘However, after a few weeks, when they can see we’re doing what we said we were going to do, they start to come out of their shell.’

Tashan adds that he’s proof an ex-offender’s future can be full of possibility.

‘The way Switchback has navigated my path, I think I’m on a good one,’ he says.

‘I didn’t find them – they found me. I never thought I’d be doing this, but I’m good at it.

‘The board said they would try to speak to Ofsted for me, as I used to work in a nursery and now I can’t, but I think: it’s a period of my life that’s ended, let’s find something new.

‘A lot of the time in prison you’re fighting the system, so knowing you have people in your corner actually in the system helps.

‘The Dusty Knuckle is a safe space. There is trust, and as long as you do your work, you can be yourself.’

You can support the Dusty Knuckle’s upcoming fundraiser here, so they can continue to help other young people facing barriers to employment.

*Names have been changed to protect against potential stigma.

Do you have a story to share?

Get in touch by emailing MetroLifestyleTeam@Metro.co.uk.

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But while the Afghan Citizens Resettlement Scheme has relocated more than 24,000 refugees since the rise of the Taliban in August 2021, many of the most vulnerable, including thousands of LGBTQ+ Afghans, have been left behind.  

Last year, Freedom of Information figures obtained from the Foreign Commonwealth and Development Office (FCDO) by Metro.co.uk revealed just 97 LGBTQ+ Afghans had been relocated to the UK, out of the 21,450 refugees already resettled.  

For Layla Moran, the Liberal Democrat’s spokesperson for foreign affairs and international development, the UK must ramp up its efforts.

‘The government doesn’t seem to want to talk about this, but there are minorities in Afghanistan who are actively persecuted by the Taliban and the LGBTQ+ community is one of the worst affected,’ she tells Metro.co.uk.’ I would urge the government to make good on its basic promises to evacuate those most at risk.’ 

While increased Taliban brutality has forced much of Afghanistan’s LGBTQ+ population underground, there’s no doubt the current situation has also brought them together, with friendships blossoming out of a desperate bid to survive. 

Thankfully, with the help of Roshaniya, a non-profit organisation that helps persecuted LGBTQ+ Afghans escape,  205 people have been rescued and are slowly rebuilding their lives in the West – but this doesn’t stop them from fearing the welfare of those left behind.  

‘LGBTQ+ Afghans are more emboldened and united than ever to resist the Taliban,’ Nemat Sadat, Executive Director of Royshaniya tells Metro.co.uk. ‘When you see death on the horizon and realise that you have nothing to lose, it makes sense to unite.’

To give an insight into how life has changed for those who managed to escape and the strength of Afghanistan’s sexual minorities who still live in the shadow of Taliban persecution, Metro.co.uk spoke to five LGBTQ+ Afghans.

‘We can’t rest until we’re all saved’

Ozlam, 25, is a trans woman who managed to escape and is now safely residing in Canada.   

‘The first year of Taliban occupation was unbearable. Even going outside for short periods was dangerous and I had to make a lot of changes to my appearance to hide my gender identity, including dressing up and wearing a waistcoat to hide my physique. 

My fiancé and I knew we weren’t safe and paid a lot of money to get a visa and fake documents from a private hospital that said I had cancer. We managed to escape across the border into Pakistan, and eventually made our way to a safehouse organised by Roshaniya. I know without going to these lengths, we wouldn’t have been able to escape.  

Although life in Paksitan was slightly better for us and I could wear the clothes I wanted, the country was still anti-LGBTQ+, and had connections to the Taliban. I couldn’t risk being public with the fact I’m trans.  

 Luckily, I’ve since  made it to Canada. Life is much better here and I can at last begin studying. However, I’ve also discovered that my mother and friends of mine had died, and I don’t know why. This loss reminds me of the constant danger in Afghanistan.  We can’t rest until we’re all saved from the Taliban, because so many are alone.’ 

I’m devastated by my mother’s loss ­– it was her wish for me to leave Afghanistan – but I feel some closure. She came to me in a dream one night and told me she was happy I’d escaped and that I must continue pursuing my dreams. After that night, I regained my senses and I’m now trying to live my life.’

‘I feel guilty I couldn’t rescue everyone’ 

Escaping Kabul by travelling halfway across the globe, Abdul, a 26-year-old bisexual man, is now rebuilding his life in the US.

‘I walked for almost one day from my hometown to the border to escape the Taliban, but police captured and interrogated me before returning me to Afghanistan. I considered going to to the airport and see if I could find a flight, but a friend of mine was killed in a suicide attack outside. I couldn’t risk my safety.  

As the months passed, I felt completely lost. All that I’d experienced in the past decade; democracy, culture and freedom had been lost in one night. From my professional career as a pharmacist to my personal life, the Taliban had taken everything.  

I hid in a relative’s house to avoid detection, however, the Taliban eventually caught up with me and took me to a torture house. They tied me up, called me names and threw hot water all over my body. It was only when a village elder bribed the soldiers who had attacked me that I was released.  

I was lucky. I discovered after making it to Iran that my brother had been killed while I was in captivity, and that they also tortured my uncle for 28 days simply because of his relation to me – I couldn’t believe the Taliban’s brutality against innocent members of my family.

Before leaving for Iran, I deleted all my phone contacts and disguised myself in more traditional clothing. I spent another day walking through the mountains to reach the border and I only managed to flee because my family and I bought visas for $3,000 dollars each.

When I reached the safehouse in Iran I began working 18-hour shifts so that I could afford another visa and plane tickets to start my journey to Brazil, then onto California after months of travelling. There, I finally felt hope for the first time.

Even so, I’m currently homeless and immigration officers force me to wear a GPS tag on my ankle which is painful.  Although I’m safe, I can’t help but feel guilty that I could not bring the rest of Afghanistan’s LGBTQ+ people with me.

For now, I’m helping those still there to learn English via Zoom and WhatsApp so that they are equipped when it comes to trying to escape. It’s a good feeling to know I can give something back.

Everyone still trapped and persecuted by the Taliban deserves a better life in a safer place.’

‘We will never forget who we are’ 

Tariq, is a 24-year-old trans woman who is forced to hide away within her family home in Kabul for fear of being detected.  

‘Even though I’m trapped, I can’t just stand by and do nothing. Many of my community in the province are young and innocent – they need as much support as I do. So, I’ve started to learn the behaviours of Taliban soldiers and teach others in the community how to avoid being detected until they could be evacuated.   

It doesn’t help that I also have to hide my identity from my family who don’t know I’m trans. They hate LGBTQ+ people and would throw me out if they found out. I’m unable to work because I’d be asked about my sexuality, so I have to rely on them for money.  

I’ve ended up changing my appearance – I’ve grown a beard and wear traditional clothes and have become unrecognisable to reduce my risk of being caught.  

 It’s hard for us to embrace who we are now that the Taliban are in power. They have spies everywhere; in the street, in the mosque, in schools and restaurants. If we don’t dress traditionally, they will arrest us. They’re trying to force us to become like them.  

But we are human with our own identity and if we start to hide our behaviours we’ll just become someone who acts like a robot with no heart or no soul. That is no life for our community. When I’m forced to hide my identity it’s though I’m a walking corpse – I don’t feel alive.  

Some of my friends have been arrested by the Taliban and I know that if I continue to go outside I will be captured if not killed for my activities, especially as soldiers are hunting us down.  

I believe that we can all be saved from this situation and it’s important not to lose our confidence. It’s hard to feel hopeful, but we have the right to live as ourselves.’ 

‘We have the right to choose who we love’ 

 Nilofar, 27, is among a growing number of LGBTQ+ individuals forced to give up their employment for fear their sexuality will be revealed and reported.

‘Before the Taliban, I was working as a woman’s hairdresser in the busy town square, and would often go out to meet friends. Now I don’t speak to anyone in case my location is exposed.  

Although I live with my family, they do not know that I’m a lesbian and would reject me if they found out. Life for LGBTQ+ people was difficult even before the Taliban, but now it’s a matter of life and death.  

I try not to hide my sexual orientation by making sure I cover my face if I ever have to go outside, but it’s becoming more and more challenging as I’m worried our house will be searched without warning.  

Soldiers come without any legal order and search the houses of anyone they suspect is LGBTQ+. They’ll climb over the wall to look and enter without permission. I fear one day this could happen to me, so I try to take shelter in neighbouring locations to avoid being spotted.  

 I have to escape Afghanistan before the Taliban discover my sexuality and stone me to death, but I feel completely trapped. Like my community, there is no way to save myself and as a girl I don’t even have the right to study or work.  

I cannot show my activities and fight for our because if the Taliban found out, they would certainly kill me. We have the right to choose who we love and to be accepted without persecution, but this is becoming harder.’  

‘I fear for my friends still trapped’ 

Qadamshah, 34, is a former spy for Afghanistan’s National Directorate of Security residing in Iran. 

‘As soon as allied forces withdrew and the Taliban made their way into Kabul, I knew I would need protection because of my status as a spy. The fact I’m also a gay man added another layer of risk, so I had to escape.  

 I went to the airport five times and tried accessing flights to Canada, the UK and US, but was turned away by soldiers. I even pleaded with troops at the gate of the British embassy, but I was still denied entry.  

It was this that made me realise just how much danger I was in. Soon after the invasion I lost my job, freedom and I no longer have an income to purchase items such as clothes. I’d worked as a spy for the former Afghan government for 10 years. Now, instead of being able to work, I have to rely on my family who aren’t aware of my sexuality. If they knew I was gay, they would have thrown me out.  

Having witnessed the extent of the Taliban’s brutality during a surveillance operation in Ghazni, I knew that if they captured me I would be killed.  

They used explosives as part of what my bosses described as the fiercest attack launched by the group. I remember feeling so scared and fearful of what would happen to me if they captured me and realised I was gay.  

 Still, I was desperate to fight for the rights of my community and eventually discovered Roshaniya on social media. With the help of Nemat Sadat, I decided to organise a protest which we held in January this year.  

I had contacts with other protestors beforehand and as we all shared the view that western nations needed to recognise our suffering, we organised placards and printed signs with the slogans #LetUsLive and #WeAreAfghanLGBTQ to help us spread our message.  

We took a huge risk organising a protest of this size in Kabul, especially as the Taliban had ramped up the number of houses they were searching, but we felt we had no other option.

Thanks to Roshaniya, we were able to plan our evacuation before the protest to ensure we had everything we needed. They raised money on our behalf and transferred it so I could buy plane tickets and visas ready for when we travelled to Kabul airport. 

Even though we’d managed to complete the protest without being detected, we still worried about checks at the airport – our lives depended on being able to make it past the security checkpoints to get to the plane that would take us to our safe house. 

Thankfully, my LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters made it with me to Iran where some have managed to escape to other countries away from the threat of the Taliban. Unfortunately, due to complications with my visa, I have to stay here.  

I’m both optimistic and worried about the future – I hope that I will one day be evacuated to a safe western country along with my LGBTQ+ family. But, it saddens me that my friends are still trapped in Afghanistan. The community is my family and I cannot rest until everyone is safe.’ 

Visit Roshaniya’s fundraising page for more information on the heroic efforts being made to evacuate LGBTQ+ Afghans still trapped in the country. 

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So when news emerged in the early 2000s that a paedophilia ring had been operating out of a much-maligned swingers club in the town, Mineola was rocked. The case was based on the compelling testimony of four young children, who spoke about the horrors they endured in detail.

The story was harrowing – each child, the oldest being around eight, the youngest just four, explained how they were groomed in ‘sex kindergarten’ by their own parents, grandparents and their friends, where they were forced to watch pornographic videos and touch each other. They were dressed up in sexual costumes and drugged with ‘silly pills’, before being taken to the swingers club to dance provocatively for sick strangers and collecting tattered green dollar bills after.

The lurid accounts were documented by Texas Ranger, Philip Kemp, with the children’s foster mother, Margie Cantrell, serving as their saviour and strongest advocate.

There was no physical evidence or witnesses to the state’s case – rather, the children’s tales were the case. The repugnant testimony was enough for a fiercely determined prosecutor and multiple juries to dish out life sentences to seven people, who were put behind bars in 2008. One defendant was found guilty after less than four minutes of deliberation.

There was just one glaring error with the curious case of the paedophile sex ring in such a conservative town. It didn’t exist. The horrors those children claimed they were privy to never happened.

This bizarre true crime story, which exposes unsettling attitudes to class and credence in conservative America, is explored in Discovery+’s new series, How to Create A Sex Scandal – an eye-opening documentary observing the alchemy behind how a fake frenzy can be whipped up and spiral beyond all control.

‘This series goes to show it takes a village to create mass hysteria,’ filmmaker Julian Hobbs tells Metro.co.uk. ‘We see how these people acted in coordination.’

The children – three of which have since recanted the testimony as adults – had come from a hugely troubled background. Siblings Shelby, seven, Hunter, six and four-year-old Carly had been removed from their mother, Shauntel, and their stepdad Jamie. The social worker recorded the children had been neglected, with the adults responsible for them addicted to drugs.

Shelby, Hunter and Carly were put under the care of Margie and John Cantrell. The pair were experienced foster parents, having taken in many troubled teenagers over the years. Margie and John were originally from California, but had moved to quiet Mineola for a peaceful retirement, buying an idyllic lodge overlooking a lake. Margie had missed fostering children, and decided to take in more.

Things escalated after Margie went to a defunct swingers club, which, unsurprisingly had not been embraced by the Bible-basing Mineola community. She’d hoped to buy the property so it could make for a wider foster facility. Upon visiting it with Shelby, Hunter, and Carly, Margie says she was stunned to hear that the children were more than familiar with the place.

The truth of the matter is, it didn’t happen. It never happened. They brainwashed us.

Claiming her foster kids had told her these graphic stories of maltreatment, she took them, as well as their cousin Gabby, to Philip Kemp. The documentary shows video footage of Margie sitting with each child, coaxing the evidence from them as the Texas Ranger looked on.

They recalled the horror of ‘sex kindergarten’ as Shauntel and Jamie watched, alongside their friend, Patrick ‘Booger Red’. Gabby corroborated the story, implicating her own parents: mum Sheila (who was also grandmother to Shelby, Hunter and Carly), dad Jimmy, and their friend, Dennis.

Mineola resides in Wood County, and while prosecutors in that area decided to drop proceedings due to a lack of physical evidence, the charismatic Margie convinced the more conservative Smith County District Attorney, Matt Bingham, to prosecute.

The jury acted quickly and decisively, with the huge negative press coverage in the area making the seven accused widely condemned hate figures.

However, for journalist Michael Hall, something about the story didn’t quite ring true.

A writer for Texas Monthly (who also serves as a producer on the documentary), he did some digging, with his series of articles on the case making for the foundations in which How to Create A Sex Scandal was built upon.

‘I’d been doing a lot of research on other cases where groups of children had made up stories about sex abuse,’ he tells Metro.co.uk. ‘So when I heard a bunch of kids were alleging there was a child sex ring but there was zero evidence, I was like, wow, this is happening again.’

The key component and driving force behind the children was Margie. A career foster mother and committed Christian, she was more easily believed, her determination bolstered by her middle-class status.

‘When I was investigating this story, I’d been hearing stories about Margie for weeks,’ Michael explains. ‘People spoke openly about how manipulative and charismatic she was.

‘When I managed to speak to her myself, I found myself being pulled along to her version of events against my will. She was almost like a movie star, the way she could draw people in.

‘If she could have this effect on me, it was easy to see how she could have convinced these young children that this happened to them.’

For the filmmakers, who interviewed Margie for the documentary, they were equally taken aback at how convinced she remains, despite three of the children admitting none of this happened.

‘Still to this day, she believes there was a sex ring in Mineola,’ filmmaker Elli Hakami explains. ‘She wasn’t aggressive or bullying, but she is firm in her beliefs. I was struck by it.’

Julian Hobbs was similarly entranced: ‘These children literally had their identities stolen from them, their memories rewired. It’s like something out of Blade Runner,’ he says.

‘Those children sincerely believed their parents were abusing them, and performed that implanted memory in a courtroom. It showed me the fragility of a stable sense of self.’

When prosecuting Sheila and Jimmy, the district attorney opted to cut plea deals and set them free. Shauntel, Jamie, and Patrick’s convictions were overturned in 2011 on the basis of ‘numerous evidentiary errors.’

Hunter, Carly and Gabby have since recanted their statements, and while the adults involved harbour no ill feeling towards the children, they are unsurprisingly damning about what they make of Margie, whom they dub ‘a puppet master’. 

‘When I recanted, it just blurted out of my mouth,’ Gabby recalls. ‘I lied because I was scared. I was clueless. I felt better [after I recanted]. There was always a knot at the pit of my stomach, and the second I told the truth, the knot loosened.

‘The truth of the matter is, it didn’t happen. It never happened. They brainwashed us.’

For Michael, the ongoing incompetence of many who pushed for the wrongful conviction of those accused, twinned with the desire to desperately advocate for children, was what resulted in this tragic state of affairs.

Texas Ranger Philip Kemp had never investigated child sex abuse charges before, with his decision to let Margie sit in on the interviews with the children widely condemned.

‘The law enforcers weren’t evil, they wanted to fight for these children, no matter how crazy this story was,’ Michael explains. ‘They thought they were fighting the good fight. There was no way they could turn around and say no, particularly after people had been prosecuted.’

Julian adds the inherent classism within American society may have also contributed.

‘The accused were dehumanised by the media and by Margie to a certain degree,’ he argues. ‘There was room for slippage. It was easy for people to make the link between a swingers club in a conservative town, to people living in trailers being paedophiles.

‘We’re in the age of conspiracy and this film shows how the alchemy of mass hysteria operates. Look at QAnon and Pizzagate – people are not held accountable, and these multiple conspiracy theories are allowed to proliferate.

‘With an upper-middle class woman like Margie being a force to say “look what’s going on”, it allows for scapegoating to go wildly unchecked.’

‘I remember seeing initial reporting in the newspapers, and the mug shots of the accused,’ agrees Michael. ‘They looked depraved. They were rednecks with bad skin and bad hair. It made them look like monsters. It was easy for people to believe they were the type of people who would do this kind of stuff.’

Margie and John have long left Mineola, with the pair having relocated back to California after they were subsequently accused of abusing their foster children. They have never faced any criminal charges, while the seven convicted still have the felony on their record. In the documentary, Margie is unrepentant, pointing towards the fact that Shelby has never recanted as why she still stands by her actions.

Speaking in the documentary, Margie explains: ‘I am being demonised [by the press] through my own children.

‘Somewhere lies the truth. Shelby says this is her truth, and she stands by it until this day. That’s the end of the story.’

However, for the filmmakers behind How To Create A Sex Scandal, they’re hoping their documentary will serve as a piece of social justice for the seven wrongly accused.

‘The class structure will mean it’s unlikely those who served jail time will be able to bring any case against Margie,’ Elli Hakami explains. ‘It takes huge resources and expensive lawyers to do that, and it just seems impossible for those people.’

Michael agrees: ‘This documentary, which gives the opportunity for more people to know the truth, might be the best justice they ever get.’

 How To Create A Sex Scandal is available to stream in full now on discovery+ in the UK and on MAX in the US

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Kimberley.Bond@metro.co.uk 

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