Friday, 31 December 2021

Happy New Year - A 2021 Update....

 Happy New Year Everyone!


So here we are again, another end to another year and as ever, I always love to share what I achieved over the past 12 months, especially as sometimes I completely forget what I've done until I go back over diaries and posts.

Often I barely believe I've done anything at all through out the year then I begin writing and researching and discover that 365 days of life I've been gifted again did indeed get filled with some amazing moments and good news, when often it's just the failures I'll recall.

January 2021

The year started brilliantly, we were still in lockdown and I pretty much had London all to myself, a far cry from the end of the year, this year, with hacking tourist jammed into tube trains and buses cheek by jowl... Ew!

But January 2021 I'm centre attention for the campaign to save the Crobar in Central London as I appear in the documentary film alongside rock legends like, but it's the trailer that gets everyone excited... as it's just me!

https://totalrock.com/documentary-to-save-soho-venue-crobar-announced/


My first appearance on Eddie Nestor's Drivetime Radio Show on BBC London discussing why Westminster Housing is utterly failing at it's job.
https://twitter.com/londonerslondon/status/1354016320963174401?lang=bg

February 2021

The Kings Fund Podcast comes out with me, Dame Louise Casey former Government Tsar for Rough Sleeping discussing what went wrong with the Everyone In Scheme and how the Government are both the cause of the problem and the block to solving it.
https://www.kingsfund.org.uk/audio-video/podcast/sleeping-rough-covid-19-public-health


March 2021

My first ever virtual Birthday Party which meant I could unite friends from all over the world including dear friend Patrcik Savage, from London first violinist for the Musical Hamilton who gave me the absolute pleasure of watching the show sat next to him in the pit last year. Rob Schwimmer who played the Theramin for Paul Simon in New York and Logan Sparks in Los Angeles, who co-wrote the last script for Harry Dean-Stanton's last ever film, the best send off an actor could ever ask before shaking off their mortal coils – Lucky. All hosted in a virtual Phoenix Artist's Club built in SpatialChat.

It was also awards month. I was part of the pitching team that secured the Museum of Homelessness the Gulbenkian Prize for Civic Arts Organisation.
https://gulbenkian.pt/uk-branch/recipients-announced-for-the-first-150000-award-for-civic-arts-organisations/

My performance, along with Peter Tatchell & others was nominated for an Offie (Off West End) Award as part of Jeremy Goldstein's Truth To Power Cafe at Conway Hall and achieved a commendation.
https://offies.london/oncomm-awardees-2020/


April 2021

Make my 4th appearance on Men's Radio this time with Russ Kane & the fabulous Phil Dave having already been selected as their Emotional Well Being Champion in 2019.
https://mensradiostation.com/november-2019-paul-atherton/


May 2021

My & Private Eye Cartoonist Mike Stokoe unveil our first collaboration and my first ever cartoon strip with the 2 part serial of The Best of Times... The Worst of Times... a Hogarthian inspired journey to what really happened during Everyone In against what should have happened.

https://thecartoonmuseum.wordpress.com/2021/06/23/best-of-times-worst-of-times-an-interview-with-paul-atherton/

Outside In, the Theatre piece by the Malvern Reaction Theatre company that I was commissioned to write a workshop play for and that was inspired by my story, is premiered to sell out audiences in the Malvern Cube.

https://www.slapmag.co.uk/theatre-review-outside-in-at-malvern-cube/

Make the 5th of our 10 subjects for my and Chris Harvey's Paul Atherton's Greatest Londoners, Black Female Talent now scheduled to take place in 2022. The follow up to the show we did at the Oxo Gallery last year.
https://coinstreet.org/whats-on/paul-athertons-greatest-londoners

https://twitter.com/LondonersLondon/status/1398195387274563584?s=20

My Arts Council England grant funding was issued for the first round for Displaced, but because of bureaucratic incompetence it remains unpaid.
https://www.thersa.org/blog/2019/09/a-societal-shift-in-thinking-to-solve-homelessness

Planet Radio – my 1st appearance, this one talking about the rise in homelessness expected later in the year.
https://planetradio.co.uk/hits-radio/london/news/calls-for-law-which-criminalises-homelessness-to-be-scrapped/

June 2021

Over the moon to be able announce that I'd secured the British Library as producer for Amy Kingsmill's fabulous memorial and performance piece Lighstource, to host an entire day's event as the finale to 12 months of lectures.
http://www.light-source.co.uk/contact/


July 2021

My Letter from Lockdown is accompanied by Paul McCartney's, Ed Sheeran, Nicola Adam's in a compilation by former news anchor, Natascha Kaplinsky's bbok, published to raise funds for Barnardo's Children'ts charity.
https://www.hachette.co.uk/titles/natasha-kaplinsky/letters-from-lockdown/9781526364555/

My film review of Nick Broomfileds latest documentary Last Man Standing is published in Tortoise Media's Sensemaker.


And I make my second appearance in Nouvara Media talking about the time I was given the choice between having my disability benefits stopped or going to my mother's funeral.
https://novaramedia.com/2021/07/13/jobcentre-staff-were-taught-to-inflict-psychological-harm-on-the-unemployed/


Meet Bianca Nugent-Smith.

August 2021

September 2021

I'm invited to be one of the main speakers the Museum of The Home's first ever Festival Of Home having only been open for (this used to the Geffrye Museum and exploted the history of the room before closing in 2018 for a majoy refit.
https://www.museumofthehome.org.uk/explore/museum-in-action/festival-of-home-2021-all-about-belonging/

October 2021

Massively overjoyed to be asked to be a part of the Museum of Homelessness, immersive, verbatim theatre, the Secret Museum an event that last just 11 days, with 3 shows each day and reached an audience of over 1,200 we also made Time Out's Top Ten Things To Do in London that week.
https://tinctureofmuseum.wordpress.com/2021/11/08/the-secret-museum-museum-of-homelessness-nov-2021/


November 2021

My first ever academic work gets published by Oxford University Press in the British Academy's “Representing Homelessness” index, a 10,000 word chapter entitled The Power of One: The media and homeless stereotypes.
https://global.oup.com/academic/product/representing-homelessness-9780197267240?lang=en&cc=us

I was incredibly fortuitous to be the only person able to collect my copy from the venerable British Academy building

December 2021

On the 1st December I premiered my & Owain Aistle's documentary 90 Days of Hope: Why Britain Chose NOT To End Homelessness at the Genesis Cinema on the Mile End Road in London. This was a fundraiser for the Museum of Homelessness and as ever we surrounded it wtth an afterparty where friends Paul Wiffen played keyboard and Julia Sterland painted Prima Verta portraits to all raise money.

The coverage came in The Big Issue Magazine & Times Radio and we were even listed on the online Radio Times.
https://www.bigissue.com/news/housing/this-man-was-sleeping-at-heathrows-terminal-5-when-covid-hit-now-hes-made-a-film-about-it/

https://www.radiotimes.com/movie-guide/b-3rbxkn/90-days-of-hope-why-britain-chose-not-to-end-homelessness/

This was followed up by some local coverage when the National Lottery talked about its successes and included the Museum of Homelessness,


So by no means great, but by no means a disaster.

Happy New Year Everyone.

Much Love.

P.


Friday, 9 April 2021

The Orwell Prize for Exposing Britain's Social Evils - Could change everything for me... but probably won't!

I've never been this nervous... possibly the minutes before my first professional theatre performance a few years ago, acting in Human Mating dance, came close, or maybe my driving test in Cardiff in 1986 where my nerves couldn't be placated with alcohol.... but they only come close to the tension waiting for the Long List announcement of the Orwell Prize on Twitter in 15 minutes.

As ever, something massive always happens on a day I'm waiting for life changing news.

A person was mauled at London Zoo when the press were carrying a big news story about my newly launched Lingerie delivery company A Touch of Silk when I was twenty one in 1990 & my story got pushed from page 2 to 13.

When I won the case to be finally legally recognised as my son's father, my barrister was surprised I wasn't overjoyed, but I had an overwhelming sense of unease and rushed to phone my mother... she didnt answer... the answerphone didn't pick up... rationality usurped intuition and I put it down, unreasonably to a catalogue of coincidences.

I left the court uncomfortably, met friends in the pub to celebrate, then I get a call from the hospital... Mum had, had the stroke that would end her independent life for good.

As it is too today, stomach churning, breathless, eager to rush to the toilet repeatedly, constantly checking the clock... waiting for the tweet that could my impending eviction back to the streets, national news breaks on my twitter stream

The Queen's husband, Prince Phillip, had died.

You couldn't make it up.

Today of all days.  He's been seriously ill for weeks. He came out of hospital last week. He's had a great innings almost making it to a century, but he picked today to die.

Then unbelievably, the owner of the residence, totally unexpectedly, comes to tell me, that he's not be paid the rent for the past 6 months by Westminster Council.

I've been residing in his residence since being picked up from Heathrow Airport where I'd been sleeping for the past two years, as part of the cohorts who were housed under Boris Johnson's "Everyone In" in hotel rooms (mine is a hotel apartment) since April 3rd 2020 and explaining he's going to have to evict me.

All this, ironically, would normally make me feel like I had a good chance of making the cut for the Orwell Prize, but learning this news didn't change the sense of forboding I had, that I had sensed for the past 3 days, that the news was not going to be good.

Why the nerves, I can feel you thinking, what difference does it make if a homeless person is given an acccolade for his writing.

Well to begin with it acknowledges the fight. Unlike paid journalists, citizen journalists write purely for the intent of change. Unlike their staffed counterparts doing their job the personal journalist exposes themsleves fully and unashamedly to public gaze, to be scrutinised for their every decision by complete starngers and indeed, those who do, or think they do, know them well.

Everything you write is about your own experience, your own emotions, you at your most vulnerable. You don't have the buffer of speaking on someone else's behalf as many other writers do.

It also acknowledges the struggle, being homeless, means you're not touch typing on manicured keyboards and reading your efforts on perfectly lit screens. Instead you're using finger and thumb on a cracked screen of an out of date Samsung Galaxy A6 Tablet, with intermittent copy & paste capabilities, writing in a notes app, that has a maximum word count that comes with no warning.

No nice MS Word or Apple Ink. If you have Wifi you may get access to Google Docs but more often you'll be using the body of an email to compose your work and hoping editors and others will understand, the lack of word counts, garmmar and the errors caused by a cracked screen, which makes typing almost impossible.

But the biggest reason for the nerves is the accolade of a homeless man being in the running to winning a writing prize is newsworthy.  It would be talked about in reverant terms and with it the power of the media to assist my plight.

Being in the limelight forces politicians to listen, local Authorities to act, lawyers to engage, social services to be put on notice, MPs to engage where they haven't, the DWP to be investigated.

So the award isn't an ego thing, it's a survival thing... with days bedridden this past week due to my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome trapping me inside unable to move or speak, I need something to give me hope to keep me going to help me win my Kafkaesque battles...

Just making the shortlist could have done that...

But while I've been writing this...it's been announced... my intuition as ever was on the money...

I wasn't selected.

-------------------------------------

The articles that were submitted for consideration

My article for the Bureau of Investigative Journalism entitled, I've Gone From Homeless at Heathrow to a Hotel, Where Next? 26th June 2020


The Letter from Lockdown I wrote & audio record for Tortoise Media, My World, Now Yours. 13th May 2020




A commission for Bristol University Press, Transforming Society, Blog; Homelessness & Covid19. The Reality Behind The Promise.  20th April 2020.


And my 7 day Twitter take over of The Bureau of Investigative Journalism account, with two twitter stories, one in the morning, one in the evening, expressing my feelings and emotion as I counted down the last 7 days to my impending eviction at the end of Boris Johnson's "Everyone In" initiative on 3rd July 2020, which housed those experiencing homelessness in hotel rooms for the duration of lockdown (which was supected to be three months and was never reinstated).

#PaulsStory #OffTheStreets 


Day 1

11:00 - 26th June 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1276455218956427264?s=19

16:59 - 26th June 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1276546649083478017?s=19

Day 2

11:00 - 27th June 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1276817591345065987?s=19

17:00 - 27th June 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1276908176760283138?s=19

Day 3

11:00 - 28th June 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1277180003692818432?s=19

17:00 - 28th June 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1277270395960340481?s=19

Day 4

11:02 - 29th June 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1277542882249895937?s=19

16:55 - 29th June 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1277631847732830210?s=19

Day 5

11:11 -  30th June 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1277907548528611328?s=19

17:13  - 30th June 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1277998617874378752?s=19

Day 6

11:17 - 1st July 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1278271393587699712?s=19

17:15 - 1st July 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1278361495840215043?s=19

Day 7

10:58 - 2nd July 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1278629114228944896?s=19

17:01 - 2nd July 2021
https://twitter.com/bureaulocal/status/1278720406220951552?s=19

End.












Friday, 19 June 2020

Racism - The confusion of identity - A Personal Response to Black Lives Matter by Paul Atherton

When I grew up I was Black. It wasn't defined as such in the 1970's in the Welsh Valleys but Nigga, Sambo, Wog were all words I became quickly aquainted with in the school yard of my nursery and infants school.

Being the only "Black in the village" with a 70s afro made me an obvious target. 

But I was brought up white (whatever that actually means).. 

Being fostered by a White Family in the small village of Ystrad Mynach in the South Welsh mining Valleys from pretty much birth in 1968 (a year after the National Front was established) to 1984 (a year before the Brixton Riots) meant they were the only family I've ever known.

My father, a former naval officer, based in Trinidad in the 2nd World War was working class and racist (when I was 15 he admitted he didn't want a fuzzy wuzzy in the house to begin with, but I'd done alright - but that's a whole story in itself).. My mother, the youngest of 13 had escaped her blitzed Coventry home and was as Middle Class as they come. 

Having attuned myself to the onslaught of name calling. by the time I hit junior school, they were easily assuaged, that was,until Alex Hayley's "Roots" hits the BBC in 1977 and a whole new raft of epithets were suddenly found to call me from Chicken George to the ever popular Kunta Kinta.

But nothing bothers me more to this day as much as "Jungle Bunny" two words that have no reason to be put together other than for the benefit of an insult. Just writing the words has the hairs on the back of my neck going up and putting my whole body into fight mode. 
A fact shared with comedian Reginald D Hunter when discussing what was to become of the film I was producing on race Colour Blind (2009) and why we decided to end it with the actor in Blackface to kick start the debate we were looking for.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWJMpDWGSR8  

Racism was clear when I grew up..

Name calling was just name calling. I was just as likely to be called the above names as the fat kid being called Piggy or the Ginger haired amongst us being insulted with the moniker of Duracell (the copper covered top).

Being beaten up for the colour of your skin - well that clearly was racist.

But the Robertson's Jam Jar Golliwog wasn't racist.  How could it be there was no context to it. The Black and White Minstrel show was mainstream BBC Saturday night viewing  (1958-78) and in stark contrast the racist Alf Garentt (played by the Jewish Warren Mitchell in Till Death Us Do Part 1965-75) was mocked mercilessly for his ignorant and idiotic viewpoints.

I never thought about race. Sure I'd been beaten up for the colour of my skin on the streets of Cardiff but that was both ways... White Racists in Rhwbina for being black and Somalians in Tiger Bay for not being black enough (all because I was hanging out with some white friends in the Custom House pub at the top of Bute Street).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NoHDXcstZDA    

When I was still in nursery school some of the parents, within my earshot, would tell their children not to play with "the little blackie boy" because their children may catch something.

And as Lenny Henry had experienced himself and would often recall in a joke, I'd find myself offered a banana as a treat (now it should be noted these would be expensive and not easily accessible in the early 70s in Wales) as a genuine effort by friends' parents to be nice and welcoming.  

However the one thing I'd been brought up not to do is be defined by the colour of my skin. My closest friends by the time I was 17 would refer to me as the most White Middle Class person they knew, because I went to the Opera, the theatre, enjoyed independent cinema, was well read, loved wine above beer (sacrilege in the Welsh Valleys - but a burgeoning trend in the Welsh Capital where I'd acquired my first flat to rent the year before) and would prefer good food like the Lexington Burger on Queen Street as opposed to Wimpy or McDonalds in Cardiff (my elder brothers have a lot to answer for)..

I loved being the only black face in a room, in a job or at a party. It held me out to be different, not the same as everyone else.

And why wouldn't I want that, my and all my white friends' heroes were Black, we just didn't see them that way. 

Everybody had a copy of Richard Pryor's Here And Now, seen Stir Crazy and considered him the funniest man to have ever lived. Through television Floella Benjamin (Play School) had taught us in Nursery, Derek Griffith (Play Away) in infants school, Lenny Henry on a Saturay morning kiiling us with laughter on Tiswas and Trevor MacDonald in solemn severity read our news.

Eddie Murphy was the Bevery Hills Cop, Denzel Washingon had played Steve Biko in Cry Freedom, we'd seen Missipi Bruning, the Cosby's were mainstream on the newly launched Channel 4 and Wil Smith's the Fresh Prince of Bel Air was the biggest watched BBC2 show of all time just as I turned 20 

Not to mention the likes of athletes Dayley Thompson, Booker WInning author Ben Okri and fashoin designer guru Bruce Oldfield and of course the greatest black role model of all time, the World Champion boxer, Muhammad Ali, who often graced the sets of our chat show hosts in the UK to inspire generations with his intelligence,wit and fabulous oratory skills.  .
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-ui9mTPMMY   


But boy did I have an awakening when I came to the world's most Multicultural City, London  in 1997. I was still, in the main, the only black face at the National Theatre or The Royal Opera House, the British Museum or the British Library, but many areas like Brixton were predominantly populated by black communities.

Very quickly, I realised how fortunate my upbringing had been. At no point was I told the colour of my skin would ever hold me back, but the traditions of African or West Indian culture were suddenly brought into sharp focus as I made more and more black friends.

A dear black female friend had been awarded the best family lawyer of the year and the first words her Jamaican mother uttered to her were "well that's all well and good but when are you going to get serious, find a good man and give me grandchildren" my friend's crest-fallen expression was soul destroying.

A Nigerian black couple had sent their son to Private School and were astounded to discover that he challenged their parental authority by questioning the validity of their requests. "I would have been beaten to within inches of my life if I answered my mother like that" the wifre said as she struggled between her middle classe status and her cultural heritage. 

If you didn't define as Black you were a Coconut, if you did, you were politically ostracised. This was an entirely different world to what I was expecting. The likelihood of being punched in the face by a white person in the middle of a busy street as had been my experience in Wales - wasn't conceivable in London then or now.

Yet it borught more complications than I could ever imagined.

The more I understood about the oppression of Black people in London the harder it was for me to understand their position. They were surrounded by people who looked like them in their droves.They had unity yet the infghting was as laughable as the Judean'People Front and the People's Front of Judeah.

They didn't seem to be hindered in anyway, if they escaped the crime ridden areas they often inhabited. I remember a Black Ghanaian female friend who was ostricised by her own family for doing a degree as they felt she thought she was better than them and was working for the "whiteman" as a respected Government Lobbyist. 

What else could she do in a 93% White country?

What made matters worse for me, is that I'd never failed to get a job on interview. This means that everybody who employed me did so knowing the colour of my skin. That was from education to the civil service, the licence trade, retail, telesales, Public relations and media and a whole lot more.  

As time went on Black friends started to use language like "you don't know your roots"... I didn't, so I started to learn and the more I learnt the more I realised that at the height of the race industry, just before Atyon Abectu interrupted the service by standing up and shouting in Westminster Cathedral during the apology for the Slave Trade, most of my Black friends didn't either.

It was never more aptly demonstrated with the corruption of the Mary Seacole story. An incredibly heroic woman who'd come to Britain to share her knowledge as a medicine woman during the Crimean war. 

Seacole nursed, Nightingale invented nursing.

But if you'd listen to the history today, you'd think the two women were of equal significance to the development of  the.nursing profession. All the way down to the Statue of Seacole being placed in the grounds of the namesake of the Hospital that Nightingale established the World's first Nurse Training school in, St. Thomas's Hospital, which Seacole had no connection with whatsoever.

Black friends used to tell me she was written out of history because of racism, but when I asked if that was the case, why her Book The Wonderful Adventures of Mary Seacole in Many Lands, had been in the Birtish Library since its publication, the response was always "Is it, I didn't know?". 

What they actually meant was, they didn't have this balck story pre-packaged in a easy to consume form that didn't require any effort in obtaining the information. Not that it didn't exist. 

Seacole was heroic not historic. I'd ask anybody to name any of the 38 White nurses that Nightingale took with her who'd be the equivalent of Seacole but I've yet to  find one person who can name a single one.

And so I found it strange on Wednesday being surrounded by a vast array of people in Hyde Park for the Black Lives Matter march. There was a strange kind of unity but one that felt mildly fake.

When John Boyega delivered his heartfelt speech it wasn't clear what he was saying about his own career. He'd reached the heights of Hollywood success and therefore his voice hugely amplified the experience - but what was it that had held him back?

He'd just bought his parents a house, he'd reached the pinnacle of financial and artistic success. He's primed for a similar journey as Idris Elba, Chiwetel Ejiofor, David Oyelowo, David Harewood and others had already taken.

Sometimes to the discomfort of Black American actors.
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/richard-brody/a-few-thoughts-about-british-actors-playing-american-and-african-american-roles  

Watching a generation who haven't had the fights of the Black-Shirts, the National Front or even the BNP with just the last remnants of the EDL barely a footnote (UKIP being too diverse to be considered a racist organisation - jingoistic undeniably with racists in it but so do Labour & the Conservatives) somehow lost any intellectual validity. The whole thing was clearly an emotional response but to what, was unclear.

The killing of a Black Man and the subsequents riots is a regular thing both here in the UK and in the USA  and has never changed anything as yet again we find ourselves doing exactly the same thing. 

So we know we can't rid ourselves of racists but is it possible to balance the scales for ethnic communities in a predominantly white society? 

Or is just suffient to take to the streets every couple of years to remind people racism is alive and well?

My mother always told me I'd never meet an intelligent racist, she's yet to be proven wrong.

Thursday, 23 April 2020

Just as I'm getting better - the state ensures I get ill again....

Managing MECFS is a tightrope of energy.

I've been doing brilliantly until today.  Exercising nearly everyday, cooking healthily (something I've not been able to do for a number of years now - as I've had to live on £3 Tesco Meal Deals or equivalent if not using food donated to Street Kitchens which in the main is High in sugar & fat).

It's all it takes is for a little thing not to be there for you when YOU need it, to induce an MECFS crash.

I'd planned perfectly what I was going to do today.  It's sunny, you can never miss an opportunity to 

The windows are opaque, which means you can never see out.  This requires the front door to be open constaantly to allow in daylight, but that means the sounds of the construction workers permeates in a way that is unbearbale.

As I type this the drilling is excruciating, that of a dentist's knawing its way through enamel in high pitched tone that resembles the patient screaming. Now it's hammering, thumping a migraine into my head and now both together.

This is nearly everyday since I've been here and unlike being at Heathrow where I could simply walk away from it. I have to either shut out daylight to diminish it or.

The person managing the building is barely able to understand English so, our communications are a stilted version of hand-gestures and me doing a Cleeseesque impersonation of Fawlty speaking to Manuel.

This means the simplest task requires the most energy.

I've been housed in a Hotel Appartment  which would leave you to believe the room and bedding would be cleaned once a week. Again as I'm typing this the Hotel Manager comes over to tell me this is getting done once a fortnight.

He also tells me how poorly things are being organised. People who are ill feted to deal with being indoors are getting violent

I walked three miles at pace, yesterday, as ever, I felt elated proud of myself and energised.  I knew it wouldn't last, but in that moment I savoured it in the best way possible.

Sunday, 29 March 2020

Covid-19, The London Lockdown & why I'm busier than ever tapped in Heathrow Airport....

It is strange, the clocks have gone forward an hour this morning and it's thrown me completely.

The reason?  Because I've only had 3 hours sleep instead of what I think is 4.

Prior to clock auto-correction, I would have woken up, looked at my watch (it's 8am now) and it would have said 7am.  I would know I'd only had 3 hours having gone to sleep at 4am (It was freezing in the airport last night, I began in Arrivals lounge on the ground floor but it just became too cold, so ascended to the Departures Lounge on the Concourse and of course, no seats to lie down on).

Instead though I find myself looking at the clock on my laptop and not understanding why I'm so insanely exhausted until, ironically, a Tweet from Heathrow Airport reminds me of the fact that the clocks had changed and I'd lost an hour.

This is day Eight of being "Trapped" at Heathrow. 

Prior to that, I'd just use it as my bedroom.  Coming here simply to get a few hours of rest before heading back into Central London to live as normal a life as possible, other than having to deal with the nonsense of the DWP, 10 years ongoing, Metorpolitan Police (my Son's Trust Fund Theft) 3 years ongoing, Legal Ombudsman (against the failings of the Public Law Project), 6 months ongoing &

What bright spark, decided that free Wifi had to keep logging you out every hour, should, without hesitation, be shot.  When I leave a Wifi area it breaks my signal. That's when you can log me out.  Havig to keep reconnecting breaks concentration and wastes minutes of valuable time. It also causes great stress and frustration, which are totally unneccesary.

The press covergae about me has been prolific over the past couple of weeks begining with Each Other Blog ('I Am Worried': Homless Amid The Corona Virus Pandemic - By Aaron Walawalkar -11th March 2020) then on my Birthday with the Daily Mirror (Big Issue Magazine Facing a Fight For Survival as Sales Crash - by Ros Wynne Jones as Real Britain Ros -20th March 2020), then followed up by Metro Online (Homeless Man Living At Heathrow Still Has Nowhere to Go - by Elisa Menendez - Friday 27th March 2020) & then the Guardian on Saturday  BBC (Coronavirus:Heathrow Airport 'Sheltering 200Homeless People' – BBC News England - Not bylined – Friday 3rd April 2020) & Finally Tortoise (Isolation: Unheard Voices in Covid19 -  Tortoise Media - Edited by David Taylor, written with Polly Curtis, Imy Harper & Louise Trickle – Monday 6th April 2020   (Updated articles on 7th April 2020)


Social Distancing in Heathrow Airport Terminal 5 highlights the fundamental stupidity of Health & Safety rules.  The need for electicity plugs &USB Chargers and the lack of them, means peope are always grouped together around the power towers. 

The rows of seats are linked back to back with plastic ties, enusring someone will always sit behind you and be inches away. 

The craziest though has to be in M&S where they're making people queue with 2 metres between them only for people to be taking wooden cutlery from bins open to everyone's hands. Total insanity and a clear demonstration that all of this is for show not safety (just like the Security Theatre coming in and out of Airport customs) and the screens that everybody is forced to touch is never wiped down.

For a few days Josh became my life-line somebody I could share everything with about what was going on and how I was coping. But a 48 hour hiatus seems to imply he's already lost interest.  John Cleese delivers a brilliant line in his bad film Clockwise which is entirely apropos and I paraphrase "It's not the dispair... I can handle the dispair... It's the Hope... it's the hope that kills you..."

Anthony Luvera - Homeless
Mary O'Hara's Book Launch
Tortoise - Thinkin

And now I'm getting reports it's snowing.... ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!

Friday, 14 February 2020

Paul Atherton's Greatest Londoners: A Little Kindness Goes A Long Way When You're Homeless...

The title of this blog (and yes, as ever, I've been trying to write a blog for months) is the title of the show I've just closed at the Gallery@Oxo (why they couldn't call it the Oxo Gallery which is how everyone refers to it, is beyond me, but that's what they insist on calling it, even though using the "at" symbol screws it up across all social media) on Sunday.
https://www.oxotower.co.uk/events/paul-athertons-greatest-londoners/

The event, as usual, was to me a simple thing, a logical thing and an easy thing.

Of course what happened was the very organistaion (Coin Street) we'd approached to assist us, turned it into something extremely complicated, totally illogical and fantastically difficult and ironically, guaranteed its failure. It epitomised perfectly, why I, and others like me, find trying to do anything to either improve our lot or to resolve our issues nigh on impossible to do in this city at the moment (it wasn't always this way).

The story, as it always does, started with an idea.

It had been brought to my attention that the Mayor of London Seed Funding Project may be a revenue source to support my Homelessness community campaigning, it was a piddling £5,000 but it would be nice to pay some of the people who'd offered their time free of charge so often over the years and so I was keen to apply.
https://www.theculturediary.com/stories/mayor-london-culture-seeds-applications-and-roadshows

Initial investigations proved this to be the usual ploy of a funder who is only interested in how you apply not what you deliver. Emails were exchanged to see if the idea of a photorgaphic exhibition to change the media narrative on homelessness was a potential. No! Came the response. It's not got any community involvement.  I countered explaining the Homeless Community is a Community but it doesn't act or behave, as say a local Gardening Club does.  Slight movement, well maybe, but show us how you'd involve the community?  The London public would visit, we'd talk, beliefs would be altered, perception of homelessness in the media would change,then, the end of London Homelessness.

Oh yes we might be interested in that. Do please apply.

People asked me why Wales (my home country) voted to leave the EU because they were one of the places to get the most of EU money. For me, this very problem is why.  Bid writing is an art so only large bureaucracies can afford to pay someone to do it for them. The rest of us throw something together quickly, hoping the grants officer can see past the typos, the incorrect gramma and pull out the idea.  That's not how grant offices think. They want it in their language, their style and under their authority. This is the quickest way to kill good ideas. In the main, Grant officers are such, because they don't have a creative bent in their entire bodies and certainly no "go getting" attitudes Which means grants go to crappy ideas with excellently written bids and the excellent ideas with poorly written bids get lost in the weeds.

In Wales one of the most stupid and expensive EU funded "White Elephant" ideas was the Ebw Vale Garden Festival, the area needed a hospital, a school, a community centre, but what they got was some pretty daffodils (It took five years of laying idle after the festival, another ten as an out of town shopping centre before some bright spark using local money finally got what they should have).

Good creatives don't have time or the inclination to be wasting time with nonsense bureaiucracies that exist purely for process and never for outcome. Good creatives get things done. It was going to take the Mayor's Fund six weeks to make a decision, I needed the show, from idea, photographed, hung in a gallery and completed, in under four.

I have a play taster coming (Fifty Years Of Trying) up I wanted to promote and my exhibiton Displaced, later in the year that I neeeded public support with (a Citywide Art Project using the luxury items stuck in my storage unit for the past decade of my ongoing homelessness, displayed in museum cases on the streets of London in the form of a treasure hunt, again to dispel many the myths of homelessness - I tried last year but the City of London - City Arts Initiative, inertia, even after saying they loved the idea, created pointless blocks which made it stumble).

So, I need a big media spalsh, something to encourage sponsors, audience members, venues etc. to get involved. Believe me, nothing gets done in the 21st Century until some major media publication prints about it.

Just weeks earlier Guardian Journallist Aditya Chakrabortty (It's his Birthday today - so Happy Birthday).had saved my project Displaced from complete devasation by assisting me, playing his role as a journalist, to secure a deal with Access Storage, keeping my possessions there for another seven month, and my last chance of doing something with them not to waste the £24,000 that had been spent keeping them there.

Many people offer to help, in fact around twenty people at the RSA (where I'm a Fellow) offered to help with the project after my talk (What Does It Mean to be Homeless in the 21st Century) there, but not one followed through. Aditya (whom I met on the pannel of Dr. Frances Ryan's London book Launch Crippled: Asuterity and the Demonisation of Disabled People, as I'm the homeless case-study in the Housing Chapter) is one of the few who said he would help and when asked, actually did.

It's the biggest problem in the 21st Century, I think some people call it virture signalling, wanting to be seen to be doing good, without actually doing any good at all.

Many people don't understand the battles Homeless people have with Councils, MPs and the dreaded DWP, and indeed some of the visitors to the Gallery At Oxo were keen to reflect the classic stereotypes back to me and were desperate for me to acknowledge that foreigners jump the queue in housing, that people cheat benefits and that homeless people are alcoholic and drug addicts.

It was these beliefs that the media had perpetuated that of course the show was designed explicitly to challenge. It's not that these things don't happen, but that they happen in such small percentages as to not warrant the media attention they garner.

But these comments, are always made as if having criminals amongst a community is unique to the welfare system.  The irony of course, is that the percentage of criminals making fraudulent claims or perpetraiting criminal activity against the department is so low the DWP had to combine the fraud figure with their own errors figure to increase it and even then could only bring it up to 1.3% of the total claimed (between 2006 - 2012 when only Fraud was measured it never peaked higher than 0.8%).
https://fullfact.org/news/benefit-fraud-record-high/

And when you consider that 7% (seven times that of what's lost in fraud) of the total sum rightfully owed by the DWP goes unclaimed you do wonder why the Government is spending more than they would ever save on Fraud investigations. Especially when there's 3,750 Fraud investgators in the DWP to try and prevernt the loss of £1.3 Billion yet only 700 in the HMRC's Wealth team to protect £4.4 Billion of tax-payers money.
https://www.moneysavingexpert.com/news/2018/11/over-p10-billion-of-benefits-left-unclaimed/
https://fullfact.org/economy/do-benefit-fraud-investigators-outnumber-tax-inspectors-ten-one/

That cry of saving your hard earned "Tax Payers" money with draconian measures the DWP have brought in against Disability Claimants, also doesn't hold water for one second when you realise how much money the department has lost in defending the indefensible, with appeal after appeal being over turned.  My case, simply to get the DWP to email me, took two years, a Royal Courts of Justice, Judgement and near £100,000 of DWP defence team legal fees. If they'd paid me that money instead, I would have never needed to have claimed again.  But still I'm costing the Department as I've already beaten them at two benefit appeals and about to go into a third since then, costing tens of thousands of pound whilst only dealing with £100s of money owed to me (though invariably as each case takes over a year to be heard and all benefits stopped in the meantime, the back-payment of funds amout to £1,000s in the end, one assumes the DWP just hope you die before you win).
https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2018/feb/12/disability-benefit-appeals-department-for-work-and-pensions-figures

If of course you believe this ridiculous conceit in the first place.

The Tax Payer against Welfare Claimant argument is as ludicrous as two Green Flag customers arguing about who paid for the receovery of the others car.  Both paid into the insurance scheme only one claimed.  Thus the one who didn't break down is complaining about the one who did, for the very reason of insuring himself against it. It's embarrasing that anyone in Britian would not see the words National Insurance and see it as meaning just that, an insurance scheme.eveyone pays into, but only some claim. If everyone claimed, the entire Insurance industry would collapse over night.

And why doesn't this "us and them" argument extend to the middle-class thefts from supermarkets which amounts to £3.2 Billion a year but seems totally acceptable (three times that of DWP fraud).  Especially when it comes to self-service checkout till fraud with hipsters claiming avocados are carrots to avoid paying for the product. This is shoplifting and is way more damaging.to the economy, the environment & social cohesion, but we don't see strip searches of every customer leaving Waitrose believing everyone to be a criminal so why do we do it when it comes to benefits?
https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/avocados-carrots-self-service-scam-supermarkets-checkout-stealing-a8370621.html

And of course the biggest part of fraudulent benefit claiming is Housing Benefit and that doesn't even go to the claimant, that goes to the Landlord. So these £1m pound benefit cheat stories are ridiculous, as the money that's paid out in the main has made someone rich, richer, Yet, when convicted and the money's claimed back, it's from the claimant and not the Landlord.
https://www.independent.co.uk/news/landlords-making-millions-from-fraud-1346840.html

The reason is of course is how the meida present things about the DWP claimants to the public, it's their narrative that enshirine what people think about a subject and that too is true of the homeless.

Nearly without excpetion any media news story about homelessness will  run with the classic tropes of drug addicition, alcoholism, cardboard boxes and a begging bowl. My favourite media organisation, Tortoise Media, where I'm a member, only did it a week ago to my huge disappointment. Esepcially as that image was attached to a story written by Peter Hoskin, whom I was developing a story about the impacts of Artificial Intelligence on DWP claimants with and had discussed this very perception problem with him.
https://members.tortoisemedia.com/2020/01/29/homelessness-taking-action/content.html

And this is why I approach Sarah Witt (events manager at Coin Street for Gallery At Oxo) with an email pitch with the idea of running a Quick & Dirty (the name of my production company abbrevaited to Q&D Productions, to avoid porn associations) of the Mayors Funding idea should she have space in the gallery and could donate to the project in late Ferbuary as it looked from the schedule on the website that they had.

This was Monday 20th January, when I'd received no response by the 23rd I chased again and was given the surprising response that the gallery was free from the 4th - 11th February if we could get the exhibition together in time.. It was less than ten days away but after discussion with my collaborator  & friend paparaazzi photogrpaher Chris Harvey, we decided if we could cut the scale of the project down to just ten subjects shot over two half days, we could indeed put everything in place in time.

On Friday 24th January we'd submitted all our proposals and confirmed that Sarah herself will be doing our PR and liaising with JC Decaux for access to their Billboard on Waterloo Bridge (though she later refers to a comms teams in later communications, though it's never actually established what, who or if they actually exist) and requested that she send all other documents required, so I can get them sorted over the weeked, which sadly she doesn't do.

However, over the weekend I draft a press release which with just over a week to go clearly needs to go out that day, reach out to Tabish Khan the Art Critic at the Londonist.  I still had it in my head that Gallery@Oxo was an art gallery, rather than a venue space.

I'd concluded it had its own staff member to man it (not the case, I did the entire run on my own in the end at huge detriment to my health and my MECFS), had good relations with the press and listings (nope, nothing there either) and as they had their non-descript advertisitng running on the JC Decaux Billboard that it would be merely a change of image (which also didn't happen).

Monday, I was all set we'd got our ten subjects, I'd scheduled four to be photographed that afternoon, all the documentation that I'd had been provided had been filled in and the draft press release had been sent to all involved by 08:20 Monday morning.  I had a meeting with Sarah at 10am.

At that meeting I was somewhat floored when she informed she had yet to get the final sign off from her board. This didn't happen until the next morning Tuesday, but suddenly the focus, rather than being on the promotion of the event (ensuring listings etc.which could always be retracted later) the focus began to go on the nonsensical. They were concerned about Risk Assessment Forms (a useless device for anybody with the smallest iota of common sense).

The ONLY objective of this event was press and I'm now being embroiled with them getting upset about Public Liability Insurance document addresses (secured through as I obvioulsy didn't have one and was using a C/O deposit payments as they refused to take cash my only means of payment and suddenly my days rather than talking to journalsists and writing the copy for the show was being spent correcting ludicrous contracts and teaching people law.

Then on Wednesday having broken our necks to get this all organised, I get an email saying they were cancelling as they couldn't give it the focus they flet the exhibition needed. As you can imagine, I went ballastic, crashed with an MECFS relapse caused by the stress and lost an entire day from our already rapidly ticking down clock. I managed to shoot across their bow that I'd consider pursuing legal action against them,

Thursday we were all back on with another afternoon of shoots and the same Friday. Requiring us to run from one side of London to the other encompasing Abbey Road Studios, the Museum of London archives, Lock & Co Hatters and Fortnum and Masons before conlcluding in the RSA the CEO Matthew Taylor.

Chirs is a working paparazzi and was fitting this around his own work schedule and would often be shooting until 4am in the morning with celebrities like Madonna before grabbing a few hours sleep and out with me again.  The delays meant an ever important break inside with friends would have to go out the window as now I'd be writing all weekend before the show opening two days later.

Friday I'm alerted that the so called "comms" team don't even have a press distribution list (a database of journalists to whom you can distribute press releases).

We managed to secure photographic printers on Monday, Majestics in Covent Garden rallied to the rescue with a booze delivery (the gallery forcing us to pay £144 for a licencee who didn't even wash the drink glasses) and on Tuesday with 20 minutes to spare we get the text up on all the walls.

The foot fall past the gallery ensured we had over 300 visitors without promotion, press, advertising or listings. But the sole point of the exhibition, getting the press there to talk about the issue, nowhere to be seen.

So for the entire run, I'm now stuck in the gallery, desperately trying to pull in favours from all and sundry.  Tabish can't make it, but gives the show a retweet, Toby Young's twitter post citing "My Friend Paul Atherton (@LondonersLondon) has been homeless for ten years..." gets a good upsurge but not a single journalist even finds that mildly interesting.
https://twitter.com/toadmeister/status/1225168912221986817

And so we breakdown the show on Sunday. I immediately and predicably have an MECFS crash on Monday.

Laid up the following day I discover through my social media, the independent Mayorial candidate Rory Stewart is running a campiagn entitled #ComeKipWithMe asking Londoners to offer a place for him to sleep and explain their London to him.  I reach out immediately. It taps straight into the message I was trying to portray with the exhibition so an invitation to bed down with me at Heathrow Airport for the night is offered.

Social media algorithms are not being my friend when I do anything social campaigning.  An inconsequential post about Valentines nearly 40 engagements anything to do with the show 2 or 3.

So as one last ditch attemtpt to achieve my aim of changing the media narrative on Homelessness, I set up a 38 Degrees Petition to persaude Rory to select me for his campaign, at least this wouldn't have been an entire waste of time then.
https://you.38degrees.org.uk/petitions/rory-stewart-should-kip-with-homeless-paul-atherton

We'll just have to see if it will get some momentum... as ever fingers crossed.









Monday, 2 September 2019

The constant struggle..... if I only I could market myself like the homeless stereotype the media wants....

As you'll have read in my previous post.  A lovely lady who brought me hope and happiness slipped through my fingers for seemingly no reason a few months ago. It hurt... a lot.

It's not an uncommon experience though being let down by those people closest to you. As I get older it's something that has happened more than it ever did when I was young. That's not an age thing but a period one.  Commuity and friendship used to be key to survival in our society. but we've stopped thinking of ourselves in those terms in the 21st Century, instead we've become isolated and money serving.

Being let down by someone you care for, that's the worst, but being let down by everybody makes the process of living nigh on impossible.

I am yet again, being wongly deprived funds from the DWP in respect to my DLA (Disability Living Allowace) & IB (Incapacity Benefit) which are paid due to my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.  This means I'm now utterly destitute.Being penniless in the UK, unblievable, is actually an illegal offence.

That is becasue we still have the Georgian (not Victorian law folks, it poredates even that) Vagrancy Act on our statute and the police still use it (Liberty are campaigning to get it repealed). If you cannot prove you have the means to feed yourself you can go to prison.  The irony of a state that doesn't want to give someone their legally entitled welfare of £200 per week but happy to pay a £1,000 in housing that same individual in prison, is not lost on me, especially, as our PM says aursterity has ended.

I personally wouldn't last a week if my freedoms were taken away from me, so it's not really an option for me, but I do see those choosing prison over survivnig on the streets as its a better alternative, as being reasoned and rational.

People often ask me, "how can this be happening?" it's a good question, but it isn't actually what they mean. They are not asking how can we live in a society that allows this to happen, or how are civil servants permitted to get away with this behavipur or why isn't our government doing anything to prevent these travesties?

No, they are asking me, how I've let this happen to me.

This question really pisses me off.

Not least, becasue I would have done a hundred things they wouldn't even have thought of doing to imrpove my siutation. Attempted a myriad of solutions from the blindingly obvious to the insanely obscure.

But the most galling is because they think, if their life is "normal" then clearly I must have done something to make mine "abnormal". They don't understand, as a society that we don't live in a bubble,  Our actions aren't necessarily our own as we live in a country with enforecable laws, that sometimes work against us.

For example I have in the past reached out to the Cinema & Television Benevolent Fund (CTBF now renamed The Film & Television Charity) when things had got like this in the past and had been greatly assisted, especially when it came to supporting my son after the DWP removed my mens to live the first few times.  But the CTBF hated the fact that I could maintain a social life in London and be homeless and peniless and therefore simply stopped beleiving me.  Thus my persistence not to be crushed by my situation, instead preferring to use my initiative, skill and knowledge to continue my lifestyle without money, becomes the very reason I wasn't getting support for money I simply couldn't survive without.

My mother always instilled in me the notion that people will help others who help themselves.  That's no longer a mantra that holds ture in today's society.

In the UK's current climate, you're either a waster or a cheat if you have the tumerity to claim, should you get sick or infirmed, the insurance you've probably paid into for years. British society doesn't see National Insurance as the same as any other type of insurance and therefore if you make claim on it in respect to Social Security payments then you're a failure, a loser or a bum.

Ironically though it would be the same as saying to someone who'd had an accident in their car that they shouldn't claim car insurance, because of all those who've paid their insurance and haven't had an accident. The system would obviously collapse, but it is of course exactly the same thinking.

Legally, I've beaten the DWP in appeals court over tweny times over the years. 

I've even attended the Royal Courts of Justice as a litigant in person (representing myself) when they refused to communicate with me by email against their own policy, government legislation and my Human Rights, which the judge in that case stated had been breached for nearly a decade (Paul Atherton V Secreatry of State for Work and Pensions).

How many people can say they argued against the State on their own in one of the highest courts in the land and changed case-law?  I suspect very few.

But still people ask "How haven't you sorted this yet?"

My current appeals process has taken since November 2018 and I've still yet to hear if I have a date for the hearing.  I'm lucky, having worked for the DHSS as was in the mid eighties, I understand the law in respect to benefits, so can represent myself.  Others aren't so lucky and they've had the removal of Legal Aid to add to their woes, so can't get pay for legal assistance, even if they found someone who'd take their case.

But how can I speed up the legal process, how do I fix that?

I'm trying to get an art project off the ground as you may have read elsewhere called Displaced (My speech on the project at the RSA can be found here).  The idea was simple, put 50 of my luxury objects, that had been trapped in my sotrage unit for the past ten years, in Museum Cases on the streets of London in the style of a treasure hunt. The prupose? To highlight the changing face of homelessness currently evolving in the United Kingdon and dispell many of the myths assocaited with it and in so doing bring about a change of tone in the media.

If I'd been attempting do this a decade ago I would have completed it by now. As it is, I've bee trying to get this off the ground for three years and am pretty much exaclty where I started.

I'd been working with the Museum of Homelessness but they got intimidated by the scale of the project even though for me it was primarily to raise funds for them and dropped out with really no explanation.

Access Storage who have been phenomenal in their assistance over the years, have had a change of store management and are now no longer being accomodating with my storage fees and they've also had a change of Marketing Manager so the promise of PR from them has suddenly dematerialised too.

The City of London's City Art Initiative (CAI) apparently loved the idea, but then made no assistance in making it happen, as fake block after fake block was put in my way. First it was an advertising problem, that miraculously vanished when I requested upon which legislation they were making this decision, then it was Highways problem until Highways said no problem and so it went.

I spoke at the Royal Society of Arts as a Fellow to garner support from the Fellowship, but none came forward. The RSA is supposed to be the heart of groundbreaking thinking in the UK but nobody out of the 40,000 fellowship actually came forward with assistance. NOBODY!

I reached out to my alma mater Cardiff Business School in the hope of getting support from the Alumni & provide work placements for students. Carbs is the only school that makes claim to being A Public Value Business School but their response reflected small minded thinking and a knee jerk reaction to something that should have prompted a discussion at the very least. They bother me every week, have written about me and I'm one of the few Alumni with a Wikipedia page.

I've spoken at the House of Commons about my plight to engender a clearly understanding of the problem when Bob Blackman was drafting his Homelessness Reduction Bill, but the key to my contirbution was how do you enforce legislation when Councils are refusing to abide by them was lost and remains to be the biggest problem today.

I've been invited in to City Hall to speak to the heads of No Second Night Out when I was stuck in their hub on Goldhawk road only to be ignored, because the people I was speaking to, although in charge, had no undestanding of the problem. Prefering a piece of reseach that was so flawed wouldn't have got through a first year business course

I've been written about as a Homeless case--study in a book. spoken at Tate Modern on DWP & The Digital Lie and given a lecture at the British Academy Representing Homelessness Conference but have achieved precisely nothing.

And I'm not asking for Charity.  I'm asking for something that I'm legally entitled too.  I'm asking for my insurance to pay out and to have the legal protections to allow me to live a decent life within the framework of legal Human Rights which of course ironically, is a law that the UK created (The European Convention on Human RIghts).

I don't want sympathy or other people's money.  I want my money, the money that I paid additonal voluntary contributions for into my National Insurance, when I was running my own business in my twenties.

Am I to blame for contracting Chronic Fatigue Syndrome at 20? Am I to blame for having a Credit agency make an error on my credifile and have no legal recourse to correct it (which is what prompted my homelessness in the first place over a decade ago)?

Is it my fault that Local Authroittes lied to me, got me to sign a contract with an agency that removed my right to social housing, not that that mattered because it would still take a ten year wait before I got one.

How about the wrongful impounding of the car that I was living in when the DVLA screwed up and the Metropolitan police took it away - my fault?

I think not.  But still, I don't want to complain or gripe I just want to change the situation for myself and others who find themsleves in this plight.


I've been interviewed by Buzzfeed (1 hour interview), the Mail on Sunday (3 hour interview followed by a 3 hour photo shoot), Channel 4 news (2 hour interview) and been offered to write a piece for the Huffington Post but all came to naught. Invariably not getting past the editor or making it past the last cut.

The feedback, if any comes at all, is invariably the same, I don't fit the sterotype. I'm trying to change the narrative but that's not what the news audience wants to hear.

To be homelesss in the media, you have to look and smell what they consider a homeless person should be. The arcehtypal Guardian image of man in doorway covered with newspapers.

No way should you find yourself at the Opera, vsiting a Gallery or dining, as the DWP put it, when they spotted a tweet on my feed when a friend had taken me out for a meal, at an upmarket restaurant (even more ironically we wouldn't have considered the establishment remotely so).

The sex sells angle wins too.  When I was being asked to discuss things in respect to Dr. Frances Ryan's book, it was the female who had to turn to sexwork to survive that seemed to garner most interest, in that uncomfortable juxtaposition between wanting to see the book publicised but not wishing the exploitaiton of someone who'd made a diffiuclt choice in hard-times.

In the 21st Century you'd think our media would be far better than this. Our intelligence improving not, as Mike Judge (he of Beavis & Butthead Fame & King of The Hill) in his brilliantly prophetic, live action movie Idiocracy, predicted all but disappeared.



So I find myself in no-mans land (something I found myself with my skin colour when I was growing up in the Welsh Valleys - not Black nor White but mistrusted by both) wanting a platform to make change, but with a media utterly insistent on not sharing my voice.

It was telling when I went to the StopTheCoup demonstration, that as someone who had voted to leave the European Union, that I knew so much more about the EU than those who were campaigning to stay in it.

It's the media that has created this divide between Remainers & Leavers, because the media are not reporting the facts.  They are no longer a service (well that's been true for a while) that delivers news, but a content entertainment service.

As a film-maker I'm all too aware of this.

From Citizen Kanes "What will the people think?... "they'll think what I tell them to think", to Networks "I'm not going to take this anymore" to Broadcast News "fake tear reporting" we've commercialised our news.

The birth of the "clash" interview in the documentary amd it all to obvious that divisive was the only way to entertain.

So, if you're ever wondering what I've done to try and improve my lot, I've taken the state to court, spoken at the House of Commons, appeared in a best-selling book on austerity, created an art project to highlight my plight, put my life bare on the internet for anyone to see and undertaken a myriad of press interviews to change public opinion as well as supporting others through court battles and making films to highlight social injustice.

All of this of course whilst in the main, living on £70 per week social security benefits and sleeping at night on plastic chairs at Heathrow Aiport Terminal Five, now ask yourself, what would you have done in the same circumstances to improve your lot?

And then please, let's never hear the question "what have you done to sort this out? again".