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The Olympics Are Going to Be a Literal Shitshow

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Photo via Yasuyoshi Chiba/Getty Images

With the opening ceremony of the 2016 Rio Olympic Games just days away, athletes from around the world are in the final stages of preparation. In addition to competing, this year's open-water swimmers, rowers, sailors, triathletes, and others will face invisible foes, too: disease-causing microorganisms in Rio de Janeiro's waterways. For decades, raw sewage has been pumped into Rio's water, including the site of several Olympic events, Guanabara Bay. To be clear: There is literally poop in the water.

When it bid to host the 2016 Olympics, Brazil promised to clean up Rio's bays and beaches, and some progress has been made. "Work has been undertaken by the Rio authorities to monitor and improve the quality of the water in Guanabara Bay," the International Olympic Committee claimed in a statement emailed to VICE. These efforts include increasing water sanitation treatments and the reduction of industrial pollution and floating waste. There are now 17 barriers in place to stop debris from entering the Guanabara Bay, with boats collecting any floating debris that could enter areas of competition.

But the cleanup efforts have fallen short of what was promised, and it isn't clear how much raw sewage and dangerous microorganisms persist in the water. In July 2015, the Associated Press reported that an independent analysis of water quality showed high levels of viruses and bacteria from human sewage in Rio's Olympic and Paralympic water venues—levels that are up to 1.7 million times what would normally be considered alarming in the US or Europe. Recent reports obtained by Reuters have surfaced that dangerous, drug-resistant super bacteria have been found in the Rodrigo de Freitas Lagoon in the heart of Rio, as well as in a river that empties into Guanabara Bay.

Athletes who ingest just three teaspoons of contaminated water have a 99 percent chance of being infected by an enteric virus, which can cause diarrhea and other gastrointestinal symptoms. "The data that has been released indicate that levels of sewage that have been released into the environment in Rio is so high that the likelihood of infection is imminent," Kristina Mena, an associate professor of environmental and occupational sciences at the University of Texas Houston School of Public Health, told VICE.

Photo via Bloomberg/Getty Images

According to Mena, the risk of contracting a gastrointestinal illness or an infection "is driven by the level of exposure and the person's immune status and health status. Healthy athletes could potentially fight off enteric viruses, but it could affect their performance in competition."

Gastrointestinal illnesses aren't the only worry in Rio. Experts have been culturing substantial amounts of bacteria in the city's bay, where the open-water swimming and rowing events will take place; Becca Rodriguez, Team USA medical director for the high-performance training center in Flamengo, Brazil, told VICE that there are concerns athletes could develop staph, strep, or antibiotic-resistant staph skin infections if they have open wounds or cuts.

Of course, Olympic athletes tend to be fit and healthy with strong immune systems, but the risks associated with swimming, boating, or ingesting the contaminated water are so high that US Olympic Teams are taking extra precautions this year. The US Rowing Team will wear anti-microbial body suits to protect their skin from the dirty water; according to Rodriguez, those competing in the open swim will wear special masks. Athletes with open skin wounds will wear Tegaderm waterproof bandages to create a barrier between the water and their skin, and there will be shower stations with antibacterial soap at the competitive events so athletes can wash off as soon as they get out of the water. Their clothes will then be sent to a laundry service that sanitizes them within 24 hours to prevent the spread of infection. Alcohol-based hand sanitizers will also be in abundance.

In addition, Rodriguez told VICE that the US Olympic Committee will be bringing its own cooks from the US to make sure they're using proper food-safety precautions: "Athletes will be provided with yogurt, fermented foods, and probiotic supplements to improve their gut health and keep the as strong as possible to fight off diseases." Athletes, trainers, and staff members are also instructed to drink only bottled water (and to use it to brush their teeth), to eat only at the Olympic Village and the High Performance Center cafeteria, and to avoid eating raw food; Rodriguez also said tourists should take the same precautions.

"We're telling athletes, 'Don't take any chances!'" Rodriguez said. "Team USA has a really good prevention and treatment protocol for our athletes that will be in the water. We've been bringing a strong foot forward to educate our athletes, focus on prevention, and not wait for symptoms to emerge."

Stacey Colino is a Chevy Chase, MD-based writer specializing in health, and the coauthor with David Katz of Disease-Proof: The Remarkable Truth About What Makes Us Well.


If I Could Talk to the Planets: On the Inviting Loneliness of ‘No Man’s Sky’

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Screenshots courtesy of Hello Games

The sky in question may belong to no man, but it's absolutely littered with planets. Over 18 quintillion of them, goes the marketing behind No Man's Sky, procedurally generated and committed to disk for everyone to slowly pull apart.

Considering the fact many games screw things up trying to produce ten interesting levels, it's understandable you might be leery about the prospect of a functionally unlimited amount of explorable worlds. But No Man's Sky has an ace up its sleeve.

Beneath the hood of the bright and inviting visuals is an algorithm that blasts flat spheres with sine waves, fills them with strange fauna and flora, gives them lakes, oceans and streams. It's an algorithm for creating life where there is none, for making worlds out of featureless orbs.

Not every planet is created equal. You might at any point land on a world filled with verdant grassland, quiet forests or a suffocating smog that makes finding a place to set your ship down almost impossible. The surface might be too hot for you to safely walk on, or far too cold without the right gear; or perhaps the game's mathematical smarts will spit out a perfect storm of hostile landscape, lethal wildlife and hyper-aggressive robotic guardians, the latter activated if you fight back against the animals, or begin breaking down structures for raw materials. It's all a bit like riling up the cops in a GTA game, only with tiny drones dispensing red-hot-laser-beam bursts of justice.

For all the many worlds out there though, the overwhelming tone of the game, as I'm seeing it so far (having actually played it, at a preview event in March) is loneliness. Occasionally you'll meet NPC alien races, which are the only things in the game that don't react to your presence with indifference or overt violence; but they don't even speak your language at first. Or, rather, you don't speak theirs – you'll have to learn to converse as the game progresses. They'll help or hinder you based on how well you communicate with them, but even with this limited interactivity with other humanoid, sentient life, the overwhelming feeling of disconnect between the player and relatable peers, even if they're AI, is strong.

In theory, there are other humans out there in No Man's Sky's galaxies, other gamers working towards the centre of the universe – where I hope that the game's designer Sean Murray, the man who's led the shaping of this game across five years of late nights, has left a Peter Molyneux-like video for the lucky space-farer that arrives first, and to discover and name every planet, animal and tree after their first pet, long-lost love, or favourite snack food. The thing is, this universe is so big, and so sparse, that casual players might never find a trace of another living soul. You'll maybe never meet these other players, getting to know them only by the trail of textual dick jokes worn by the many organisms they leave in their wake.

What's the point in seeing attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion or C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate if you can't do it with some company? If you want to show something you've discovered to someone else directly, you'll need to stream it or upload a video, perhaps name one of the grotesque creatures "this looks like a weird horse lol" in the hope that someone finds it a few months down the line and agrees that, yes, it does look like a weird horse. Otherwise you might get the crushing sense of being alone in the face of this universe's sheer indifference.

Article continues after the video below

Meet Scotland's DIY rocketeers

So, what do you do in a game world that doesn't give a shit about you?

You could always try talking to the planets. The AI entities in No Man's Sky may not care about you, and the virtual dirt might not respond, but instead of focussing on the fact the game is largely ignoring you, the player, slayer of a thousand beasts, rescuer of a thousand princesses and conqueror of a thousand video games before this one, why not try finding solace in hopping between the many worlds?

Even from my cursory flypast of the game's early stages, these worlds are as varied, characterful and developed as any triple-A video game character, and each one's differences are plain to see as you circle above them, in search of a safe landing site. Each planet, whether teeming with life or virtually barren, has plenty to see and do. Want to explore a hole in the ground? You can do that. Want to make your own hole in the ground? Go for it. Sadly, the holes won't track for different players (fortunate, when you consider every planet is going to be scored with cocks and swastikas within hours of the game's launch) and you won't be able to leave any meaningful mark on the landscape around you; but the game more than makes up for that by giving you near-unlimited space to roam within, a ship that can land nearly anywhere, and a complete lack of loading screens.

Floating through the vast emptiness of space in a vessel made for one might be lonely, but there's a certain beauty to the isolation when you're standing on a mountain no one else has ever summited, on a planet no one else has ever visited, looking out over a vista no one else has ever shared on Twitter before. I didn't really understand No Man's Sky during my springtime playtest, but now, months later and with the game out in mere days, I get the appeal.

@_JakeTucker

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A Neuroscientist Explains Why Your Brain Is So Anxious All the Time

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We are living in the midst of an anxiety crisis. By conservative estimates, about 20 percent of Americans suffer from anxiety disorders and even more will experience anxiety attacks at some point in their lives. There's an entire economy centered on helping people calm down. For the past 80 years, Americans have become increasingly more and more anxious—about working and not working, texting and not texting, about living and dying, and everything in between.

But actually, no, our brains have always been driven by fear to some extent, according to Dean Burnett, a neuroscientist and the author of Idiot Brain: What Your Head Is Really Up To. The book, which was released in the United States last week, is an Osmosis Jones–style tour through the human brain: Here, on the left, the reason why your brain triggers motion sickness on a boat. Here, the reason why you can remember enough information about a person to write their Wikipedia entry but can't seem to remember their name. And here, the reason why singing karaoke in a crowded bar puts some people on the verge of a panic attack.

I skyped Burnett at his home in Cardiff, England, to talk more about how our brains evolved to be scared of everything—and why, in our modern times, it's creating an anxiety epidemic.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

VICE: Why are our brains so predisposed to be fearful?
Dean Burnett: You have to think about the brain as evolving over millions of years. A tendency to be afraid of anything unusual seems like paranoia by our modern standards but is very good in an evolutionary sense. A branch snapping in the woods or a shadow could be, for a more simple creature, a genuine predator or threat. So a consciousness or unconscious system that constantly says, "What's that? Is it dangerous? What's that? Is it dangerous?" is a really good survival strategy.

Over time, the brain evolved to maintain that level of apprehension and watchfulness. We have a threat-detection system that takes in sensory information and tags anything unusual or unknown or potentially dangerous, based on memories and biological instinct, as scary. That's what's kept us alive for millions of years. It's just that now we've become sophisticated to the point where we've tamed our environment. It's overkill.

Right. Like, there's no good reason for me to be scared of insects, but I am. You also mention in your book how some people are too scared to get up and sing karaoke in a bar—which, when you think about it, is really stupid.
And I really don't like talking on the phone. If I'm dialing someone, I feel like I'm bothering them, and it puts me off from doing it. Social anxiety is the most common phobia, because there are so many ways it can manifest. It doesn't seem like an evolved mechanism, but it is. Humans are very social, tribal creatures. We evolved in tight-knit communities, which is our evolutionary strength. When we're all working together, we can compete with any other animal. We can live together in massive cities with multiple millions of people living on top of one another, like in Cairo or Delhi. Even insects can't rival that level of population density without killing each other.

In the wild, if you're rejected, you're going to die pretty quickly. So we are very wary of others peoples judgement of us. The idea of being embarrassed or rejected—even if it's just singing karaoke—the brain does not like that idea. If you think of Hells Angels, they've rejected the rules of society, but they all dress exactly the same. So they still clearly have this strong compulsion to be part of a group, because the appraise of your peers is something the brain really wants. Anything that jeopardizes that is very unpleasant for the brain.

Need to refuel your anxiety? Read our series "How Scared Should I Be?"

How does the brain reconcile something that we consciously know we shouldn't be afraid of but we're afraid of anyway?
Well, when it comes to actual phobias, it's by definition an irrational fear. You can be afraid of clowns and also know a clown isn't going to sneak up and murder you in the street. That's not something clowns usually do, outside of Stephen King books. So if you encounter a clown and nothing bad happens, the brain should learn, "I saw a clown, nothing bad happened, clowns are not scary." But because it has the existing connection to fear, you get the fight-or-flight response. The brain floods you with adrenaline; you're trembling and tense, and your heart rate goes up. There's a strong physical response when you're afraid, and it's not pleasant. So the brain associates encountering the thing you're afraid of with the fear response, which makes your brain think the fear is justified. It's a feedback loop that only intensifies the fear.

Yikes. How do you overcome that?
Systematic desensitization is one way. It gradually introduces you to the thing you're afraid of on a very slow basis, so you don't trigger the fear response. If you're afraid of spiders, might show you a small picture of a spider. Then a plastic spider. Then a video of a live spider, then a small spider in a box, then a tarantula in a box, until you end up holding the spider. You get to the point where you're at your max level and tip it slightly further each time without triggering the fight-or-flight response.

This all makes sense for a primitive, threatening environment. But how does this inclination toward fear fit into our modern world?
Well, it's a problem in our current environment. We're capable of a lot more abstract thoughts like planning, imagination, rationalization, predictions—all things that can trigger the fear response. For example, a lot of people are afraid of losing their job, especially if they hear about a downturned economy. That's not a thing that physically threatens you—there's no threat of death or injury, and there's no guarantee it'll even happen—but people are still very afraid. We can extrapolate to the extent that these wild predictions can trigger the same fear response as an actual physical threat would.

Things today are so complex that it's not just about surviving or finding enough food but about progressing your career or being liked by your friends or even having enough Twitter followers—all things that people now care about and can be fearful of. There are so many things to worry about that we're constantly worried.

So information overload has turned into anxiety overload?
Exactly. The modern world provides so much information now. Especially with the internet, it seems like the world is getting a lot worse, but statistically it's improving. Now that we have a lot more exposure to other people and other things happening in the world, we have a lot more awareness of things going badly.

Read our series from So Sad Today about dealing with overwhelming anxiety.

In the book, you write about panic attacks, which you describe as "the brain cutting out the middle man and inducing fear reactions in the absence of any feasible cause." Is there an evolutionary reason for that?
The brain hasn't evolved to do all the things it does for a specific purpose. It's more like a consequence of the way it's arranged itself. So, people ask, "Why has the brain got two hemispheres?" and there's no real purpose; it just happened by chance. Evolution isn't about what's the best option; it's just about what does the job well enough.

With panic attacks, there are many theories: You might start off with a strong tendency toward phobias. You could have an overdeveloped fear response system, or rather an overdeveloped part of the brain, like the prefrontal cortex, which would override the more basic responses and would suppress a fear response. It could be a traumatic experience that gives you a strong, fearful memory . Or it could be a glitch in one area of the brain where, if you're already prone to fearful responses, you don't even need anything specific to trigger them just due to a quirk of brain chemistry. It sounds like I'm describing the brain backfiring, and it's obviously more complex than that. But basically, there's no real reason for panic attacks. They don't serve a purpose. They happen when the fear system becomes unpredictable and isn't associated with an actual fear trigger and response.

It seems like a lot more people suffer from anxiety disorders and panic attacks now than, say, 50 years ago. Is anxiety socially contagious?
There's definitely potential for that. We take so many cues from other people. That's why you get things like mob mentality. A few years ago, there was a riot in London when a a kid threw a fire extinguisher off the roof. Could've killed someone. He wouldn't have done that otherwise, but in part of a highly aroused group, you become part of that. So if you are constantly experiencing other people expressing anxiety, whether you logically agree with it or not, your brain subconsciously logs it. This is especially true with the internet, where you can constantly see peoples' neuroses laid bare. If someone else has arrived at these conclusions and your brain takes them in to a certain extent, over time it could create a low-level anxiety.

If our brains evolved to be super fearful, do you think it's possible for our brains to evolve toward chilling out?
To say we'll evolve out of it is a hard one. Evolution takes so long, especially with something that doesn't kill you, and anxiety is not necessarily something that does that. But the brain is very good at getting used to things. It's called habituation. Anything that's constant or reliable, the brain stops paying attention to it or giving it weight. For example, soldiers can fall asleep in war zones whereas if you and I were to drop into a war zone, we'd be constantly panicked. So if we get to a point where technology or the pace becomes more consistent, I can see a world where we become more used to things and the things that make us so anxious right now are not a problem anymore.

In the meantime, what are some things people can do to make their brains less anxious?
Each individual brain is so different than anyone else's that providing a blanket solution is actually not very helpful. But the obvious answer is: If something's upsetting or scaring you, then dissociate yourself from it for a while. Some people say reading their Twitter or Facebook feeds make them depressed; well, if that's the case, detach for a while. The brain also gets stressed by loss of control—perceived or real. That's where superstition comes from. It gives you the illusion of being in charge of your world. So do something to give yourself a sense of control again.

Follow Arielle Pardes on Twitter.

Are Some Kinds of Sex Work 'Better' Than Others?

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Photo via Flickr user Matt Mangum

This article originally appeared on VICE US

"I'm not a prostitute," my friend Cara told me from across the table. "But I did go on a date. For money."

Two strong drinks into happy hour, Cara explained that a mixture of sexual frustration, boredom, and earning potential led her to create a profile for herself on a prominent sugar daddy website she'd read about in the New York Times. Cara was considering offers from all over the country, but she had her first date the week before with a Los Angeles–based real estate developer who slipped her a crisp envelope of hundreds after they kissed goodbye.

"I'm not a prostitute, right?" she later asked nervously sipping her whiskey sour. "We didn't have sex or anything. I mean, I wouldn't." She looked into my eyes, pleading for assurance that she wasn't disgusting—or worse, a prostitute.

What Cara didn't know was that almost ten years ago, I had been a sex worker myself.

In the early 2000s, I worked a phone sex line for pretty much the same reasons Cara joined the sugar daddy website: I needed money, I was bored, and I was curious. After installing a cheap landline and completing a 25-minute "orientation" with my supervisor, I went into field to make some money. And I did. I continued working the phone sex line until I got my first teaching assistant job (which, depressingly, paid about half what phone sex did).

I don't regret it, and I doubt I ever will. I used to brag that I got people off all over the world, but it was much more than that: I talked to them, became their friend, lifted their spirits, and helped them unpack complex personal situations. I learned how to simulate the sound of a wet pussy (lotion in a fist) and how to convincingly describe my role in a courtly Elizabeth gangbang to the guy who yelled over the phone that he was going to murder me before he fucked me. Being a sex worker put me in touch with such a wide range of human circumstance than anything else had up until that point.

Sitting in front of Cara, I wondered what my 22-year-old self, still working as a phone sex operator, would say to her. I wondered what a prostitute, a porn star, a cam girl, or a stripper would say to the woman who had, for all intents and purposes, joined their ranks. Was her version of sex work "better" or "worse" than theirs? Was it sex work at all?

Related: What It's Like to Date as a Sex Worker

Throughout the next couple of months, I interviewed more than 30 friends, acquaintances, and researchers involved in the sex industry about their perspective on a "hierarchy of sex work," if one even existed. The more people I talked to, the more I realized that there wasn't one consistent metric to decide which jobs in the industry were "better" than others. But there was a pervasive sense that some jobs were "worse," and many sex workers looked down on others with "lesser" jobs.

This hierarchy wasn't based on money. If anything, the highest earners were often looked down upon as the least valued part of the community. It wasn't fame, either, now that anyone can film their own porn on their iPhone. Instead, industry professionals told me they thought about their jobs as existing on two hierarchies—one organized by the degree of physical contact with clients, and the other by how enjoyable they were.

Watch: Broadly travels to Spain to see what happens when sex work goes unregulated.

Melinda Chateauvert, author of Sex Workers Unite!and self-described "whorestorian," told me that many individuals choose to work as pro-dominatrixes or dancers "because they don't have sex, give blowjobs, or exchange body fluids. They feel superior to those who do. They use contact as a meter."

Many sex workers agreed that they were often judged by this metric. A few strippers told me they didn't think stripping was sex work at all, since they didn't have to touch any of their clients. Escort and porn actress Gina DePalma recounts seeing this hierarchy in action at a strip club in Las Vegas: "Dancers thought of prostitutes as lower than them and would look down their nose at dancers who left the club for money with clients," she told me. "I always was amused: They walked around naked for dollars and grinded on guys crotches for 20s; let guys finger them in the club, gave BJs and hand jobs. Yet some thought they were better than the call girl or stripper who goes to the guy's room."

This is underscored by the legal boundaries, which are more permissive toward no-contact activities (like stripping) than high-contact activities (like prostitution).

A cam girl, who asked that I not use her name, told me these views made their way into her romantic life. "I've had a lot of men tell me that they wouldn't be OK with me being in porn but that it's fine for me to work as a cam girl or stripper," she said. "Similarly, men frequently believe that prostitutes are filthy and desperate—but they praise porn stars. It's as though the computer screen shields them from the reality that they are both women who sell sex."

Related: Sex Workers Talk About the Lies They Tell Their Loved Ones

Other sex workers were less judgmental about physical contact and instead prioritized enjoyment of their work. Due to the incredible availability of free porn and a market flooded by a cheaper and cheaper product, few people are getting rich by getting people off. A porn producer, cam girl, and stripper (who asked to remain anonymous because they have day jobs outside the sex work industry) each told me that the people they admire most in their industry are those who "really love what they do" or are sex workers because "it's something they've always wanted to do."

"I love what I do," Hilary Holiday, a Minneapolis-based escort, told me. "I'm very choosy as to who I will spend time with and require copious amounts of respect. I turn most away. I make a good six-figure income and trade options with the savings I've built."

On the flip side, those who feel bound to sex work for financial reasons are often looked down upon. They're also less free to pursue other forms of work, and as a result, feel resentment toward their jobs.

Melissa Gira Grant, a former cam girl, has written at length about getting into sex work solely for the money, after struggling for years trying to become a writer, and then feeling trapped in the industry. I myself was conflicted about quitting my phone sex job to take a more "respectable" but much lower paying TA position.

Antonia Crane, who spent years working as a stripper and escort, emphasized that reducing stigma, shame, and industry divisiveness requires "working together instead of against one another, working against the very fabric of the system designed to pit us against each other. Which is to say: team up, bitches."

Back at the bar with Cara, my first instinct was to feel distance and shame from her judgmental rhetoric. Who was she to look down on other sex workers? But I knew I wouldn't get anywhere by recoiling. So instead, I bought us another round and started telling her my story.

Follow Rebecca Leib on Twitter.

Owen Smith Makes Me Hate Myself

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Owen Smith: even the name is like drinking a tepid glass of water in a beige room. Owen Smith looks like the prototype for a scrapped Fireman Sam character who's been biodegrading in an animator's warehouse somewhere for 15 years before deciding he wants to become Labour leader. What question is Owen Smith the answer to? What problem is he fixing? Surely this tea-coloured oblong is not meant to be the charismatic, strong leader that Jeremy Corbyn could never be?

This shouldn't even be a contest. Corbyn is a principled socialist who wants to make the lives of every young and poor person in the country better. Owen Smith is the middle manager from Swansea branch who has worked there for 23 years and has never once been made employee of the month.

Full disclosure: I believe in the things that I think Jeremy Corbyn believes in. That inheritance tax should be sky high to stop wealth staying in rich families. That trains, utilities, and even dispensaries of tobacco and alcohol should be nationalised and the profits should help fund the welfare state. That the measure of an ideal society is not economic growth but levels of equality, and it is worth sacrificing our wealth as a nation if it means we can spread what wealth we have more equally.

I also don't think it's insane to think that someone like Corbyn could win a general election. If politics in the past few years has taught us anything, it's that a couple of brilliant well-timed ideas, even a smart slogan (Take Our Country Back/Make America Great Again), can go against decades of supposed electoral orthodoxy.

But what has become clear this past nine months is that Corbyn is far from capable of a smart slogan, let alone a brilliant well-timed idea. He says he wants to change politics, but while politics remains unchanged, he is losing at it, very badly.

Corbyn has announced eight new policy pledges for this campaign but I bet you couldn't tell me one of them. Whether it's his incompetence in dealing with the media or the media's unwillingness to report on them, it almost doesn't matter, because Corbyn has no plan to deal with his negative media coverage, except to complain about it. He fights every petty battle like he was defending his own personal honour, rather than defending the defenceless.

Meanwhile, Owen Smith, the air-flavoured jelly bean, had a proper policy announcement at a university in Milton Keynes, where he spelled out his plans for working conditions. It was widely covered by the press. Smith wants to raise the national minimum wage to £8.25 in line with recommendations from the Living Wage Foundation. He'll also extend it to everyone over 18. And reverse Tory cuts to in-work benefits. And he wants to look into pay disparities between highest-paid and lowest-paid at companies that receive a lot of government contracts. Those are all good things - not awe-inspiring, revolutionary changes, but the kind of diet-socialism that will benefit millions and that most of the country can get on board with.

Undoubtedly, Smith would not be on stage talking about executive pay if Corbyn hadn't pushed the whole debate to the left, but isn't that the point? If we get the broad strokes of Corbyn's politics but packaged into media-friendly soundbites by a man boring enough to be palatable to Middle England, is that not enough? Do we need to look cool too? Does it always have to be Corbyn, even if Corbyn is an unworkable politician who can't command his own party or win an election?

But I know. Voting for Owen Smith is like leaving a party at 11pm because you've got to do some "life admin" the next day. It's ordering a green salad at McDonalds. It's having sex in the missionary position until your wife falls asleep. It's telling your nephew that sorry, we're not going to be able to go to Alton Towers this weekend, but we can go to the playground in the local park instead and pretend the seesaw is Nemesis.

I want any reason not to vote for Owen Smith. I want you to tell me that Corbyn's got it all planned out and he's got a smart campaign strategy to win back Tory marginals. I want you to tell me that if you squint at the polling really hard it turns out Labour aren't 16 points behind. I want you tell me that Owen Smith hurts children. Please, help me find a way to feel good about my vote, rather than wallowing in the misery of pragmatism, calling it an early night with Owen Smith, a man with nothing going for him except the vague promise of adequate competency.

@samwolfson


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I Left My Taxidermy Workshop to Become a Nudist at 74

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Fina in her room. All photos by the author

This article originally appeared on VICE Spain

Fina is 79 years old, and five years ago she left her life in Barcelona behind to become a nudist. After he husband died, she sold their apartment, packed all her things and moved to El Fonoll – a town in Catalonia, that is also one of the most famous naturist communes in Spain.

Before leaving Barcelona, Fina worked as a taxidermist; preparing, stuffing, and mounting different animals, before selling them to individual collectors or museums. Fina's husband was a hunter, and apparently, her intention was to balance him out by keeping a part of each animal alive. To Fina, this lies at the essence of her naturist spirit.


A typical view at El Fonoll

"Naturism is a way of life. But the desire to live that way has to come from deep inside. I've been like this since a very young age. My husband and I would often go to nudist beaches. It might sound cliché but life's too short and some days are cloudy. We have to enjoy the rest of them – the sunny days. Maybe this little fly will die in the next minute but as long as it's flying, it seizes the day," she says.

I ask about her family: "My parents had me when they were in their forties. Luckily my mother was a very modern and optimistic person; everything I am, I owe to her," she remembers.

Fina and a neighbour walk through El Fonoll

It goes without saying that the 79-year-old loves nature, maintaining that El Fonoll is the closest she has ever come to seeing paradise. When she gets up every morning, she thanks the Sun because he makes life possible. Before night falls, she thanks the Earth for everything she gives us.

Fina also rates trees highly – so highly, that she often hugs them to make sure they are aware of her appreciation: "First, I ask permission and then I hug them. But you can only hug the healthy trees and not the ones without leaves. Those without leaves need to rest to restore their power. I have learned a lot of things over the years. I've learned how to listen, be tolerant and love everything around me."



Fina came here alone but now she feels part of the extended family of El Fonoll. She has no children because she couldn't afford to raise any when she was younger. She has a niece, who she says is like a daughter to her but has never visited El Fonoll: "Her family are not naturists, so I never asked them to come over. I didn't want to make them feel uncomfortable," she explains.

She wakes up every morning at 6:30 AM, although that often depends on the time of sunrise. Around 9AM, she leaves her house and goes to feed the fish in the town reservoir. Around 11AM the sun becomes too hot, and even though she puts on homemade suncream every day – an ointment she makes with coconut and olive oil – the hard climate of Catalonia makes any activity impossible when you are completely naked. I can testify to this because, in order to enter El Fonoll and meet Fina, I had to go around naked too.


Fina and another El Fonor inhabitant, holding her earrings.

When she's done with her morning activities, Fina returns home to work on her jewelry, which she sells to other inhabitants, and the occasional visitors of the little Spanish village. "I'm not retired, I'm always working. I make earrings and pendants using elements of nature. I recycle leaves, roots and stones because I believe that everything on Earth has a soul. That includes rocks," she says.

One of Fina's favourite pastimes is hiking to the mountains surrounding El Fonoll and listening to the birds singing: "The other day I heard a young golden oriole that hadn't learned to sing yet. I knew it belonged to that species because there was an adult bird next to him, trying to teaching him to sing. The little one kept imitating the older bird but rather unsuccessfully," she laughs.

Fina and her stall

Catalan entrepreneur Emili Vives bought the abandoned village in 1998. His dream was to build Spain's first naturist resort so along with some like-minded friends, he set off to rebuild some of the houses that lay in ruins. These days, he rents out several properties, which include a hostel that can house up to 30 people as well as caravans that can be found scattered through the site.


El Fonoll's inhabitants, however, can live and eat there for free, in exchange for a few hours of manual labour every day; work that goes into maintaining the town's facilities as well as the livestock. The main rule being that as long as the weather allows it, everyone must co-exist in the buff. Fina experienced an important part of the El Fonoll construction process: "I spent my first two years here living in a caravan. When I first arrived, everything was truly in ruins. A little while later, I got my own room."


People sit together and eat paella at El Fonoll.

Her place is covered in leaves, bird feathers and souvenirs from her travels. A portrait photograph of Fina on a helicopter is hanging just above her bed – it's a memento from Canada, where she travelled more recently. "I love to travel and I am traveling a lot lately. It's my turn to enjoy life. I've been working since I was 8 years old, and as long as I am healthy, I will keep on traveling. Two years ago, I went to Peru. I went there alone but I usually travel with friends. I am lucky to have visited places that people my age often haven't had the fortune to see – like China," she says, before putting a stone pendant in my hands and kissing me goodbye.

How to Move to Another Country When You Have a Mental Illness

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Artwork by Sophie Castle

Though Brexit may have made emigration feel like a reasonable and logical inevitability, it turns out that moving to a new country is – spoiler alert – quite hard. There's all the stuff you have to leave behind, like your family, a set of friends, most of your actual material belongings, and there are the terrifying things you're moving towards: finding a job and sourcing somewhere to live, trying to force people to hang out with you and navigating a hellish, bureaucratic nightmare-scape of paperwork, sometimes in a language you don't understand.

This is, pretty unsurprisingly, stressful. But what happens when, on top of this, you have mental health problems to contend with?

David Barnes, a British counsellor based in Berlin, says that dealing with mental health problems in a new country can be extremely challenging. "Understanding the health system in a new country and getting adequate health insurance can be challenging, to the extent that some people avoid trying to tackle the issue because of the jargon involved, or language challenges," he told me. "Obviously it can help if you have someone who's willing to translate for you, but that isn't always the case.

"Being in a new country with cultural differences can leave someone feeling extremely isolated too, particularly when they can't speak the language."

Cultural attitudes can also cause problems. Micaela, who emigrated from Canada to Japan 11 years ago, found it hard to overcome stigma in the country. "People who have never experienced mental illness assume it's a myth or an excuse," she told me. "Even though there's such a high suicide rate, Japan fails to recognise lots of mental health problems as a legitimate issue. It's stigmatised. If you're depressed, you're lazy. You're just not trying hard enough."

When Micaela, who was working as a TV and radio personality, told her boss she couldn't carry on working because of her depression, he told her, "we're all tired, but you don't see us complaining"; when she visited a mental health clinic, her doctor told her she should "go back home" and to "nap off" distressing panic attacks. "He just said, 'Why don't you just go home? I doubt your problems will follow you back to Canada.' I was so disappointed; I was seeing him as part of an attempt to get better, but his solution was just to turn round and go home.

"My Japanese boyfriend didn't like the idea of me taking meds either because there's such a stigma attached to it. He wasn't educated at all on the subject."

Livi, who was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, anxiety and depression in the UK, found similar problems with stigma. She recently relocated from Cheshire to "the middle of nowhere" in Mayenne, France. Livi's move was more to do with necessity than choice, moving back in with her parents after "a series of suicide attempts". Because they'd relocated to France, so did she.

"I've really found that there's less understanding about the severity and reality of mental illness here, specifically when I've been dating," she told me. "People don't seem to realise that mental illness is a real illness and can be severe and life-changing."

And the language barrier was understandably challenging – unlike Micaela, who spoke Japanese, Livi's last-minute emigration meant she didn't speak the language. "Therapy was extremely difficult," she said. "I don't speak fluent French, so talking therapy was really hard to find. My psychiatrist just prescribed 'ergotherapy' for my anxiety, a course of walking in nature with other people every week. It just made my anxiety worse, though."

There are a number of ways to tackle the language barrier problem, though (bar, y'know, spending several years learning a language). Most major cities have directories of English-speaking therapists, and services like TalkSpace and Babylon have made digital therapy moderately accessible – at least to those who can afford it.

Babylon, which costs £39 per session, allows access to English-speaking therapists via a website or downloadable app. "Giving people access to digital therapy addresses several of the key barriers many face when trying to access treatment," said Rebecca Minton, therapy lead at the service. Patients can undertake consultations over the phone or online, removing the need for location-bound services.

Similarly, TalkSpace (at the slightly pricier $69 per week for unlimited messaging and four video or audio sessions per month), allows access to therapeutic services "regardless of time or location". TalkSpace allows users to start the therapy process via text-based messaging, and now offers video calling features, which it says allows people to have a "more intimate experience with their therapist", despite location. Many therapists offer similar services, so if you have a therapist pre-emigration it's worth asking them whether they'll consider seeing you via Skype or phone.

Technology can also provide slight respite from the strain of missing friends and family. Though Charlie, who emigrated to Australia from Ireland, described being away from loved ones as adding "a certain strain", he also said that instant messaging meant it was "easy to send someone a quick 'I'm okay' or ask for help".

Emigrating can also have its benefits. Livi said moving to France after a period of severe instability had felt like "a break from life", and Charlie described his experiences in Australia as "like seeing life in technicolour".

"Because of where I was from, I was so used to be a typical young man, not talking about anything and living in an insular and narrow-minded environment," he said. "When I moved, I got a whole new ecosystem where I actually had space for my mental health issues and accepted them. And it's a cliché to talk about the lifestyle, but being outside in the sun, taking the time to eat better, walking more... it chipped away at some of the hardness I'd developed when I was trying to repress my feelings."

Preparation is key: things like remembering to bring enough medication might seem like superficially simple advice, but being stranded without access to meds can be a powerfully isolating situation, as well as potentially dangerous.

It's also important to remember that emigrating may not be the all-powerful panacea for your problems that you might have hoped, especially if your mental illness is chronic. As I tweeted during a 2am breakdown the other day, moving to another country doesn't mean you no longer have mental health problems, it just means you have them in a new language.

"Lots of people emigrate to get away from their problems," said Barnes. "And sometimes it works. But our problems and personal issues follow us and still need to be dealt with."

@rey_z

More on mental health:

Language of Catastrophe: Why We Need to Stop Saying We're Mental

Female Hormones Can Make a Bloody Mess of Your Mental Health

Why Mental Health Disorders Emerge In Your Early Twenties


The Man Who Turned His Parkinson's Into an Art Project

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Tim Andrews (Photo by Liz Orton)

In 2005, Tim Andrews was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. A solicitor at the time of his diagnosis, he had an insurance policy that allowed him to leave the job he'd had for 29 years – news so overwhelming for Tim that he burst into tears when he heard it.

A couple of years later, scrolling through an issue of Time Out, Tim noticed a call-out for photographic models and responded to the ad. That would be the first of hundreds of portraits taken of him by all sorts of photographers, from amateurs up to established names like Harry Borden and Rankin.

The project, which Tim titled "Over the Hill", came to an end in June of this year, so I went to his house to have a chat about the process, Parkinson's and why he's naked in so many of the photos (a NSFW warning here, because there's a bit of that nudity as you scroll down).

Photo by Spencer Murphy

VICE: How long have you had a love of photography? Is it something that existed before "Over the Hill", or did that come later?
Tim Andrews:I've always liked photography, although I've never been very good at it. But the thing that attracted me to photography from the start was Lee Miller's "The Picnic". When I saw that, I thought it was a great photograph and a historical photograph. It also represented the hedonistic lifestyle that I was miles away from. After seeing it I would visit the National Portrait Gallery and find myself attracted more to the photography than the paintings.

How and why did you turn your diagnosis into "Over the Hill"?
After I gave up work I had all of these things I liked to do, like going to the cricket, reading, writing – so I did all of them, but they were all quite solitary past-times. I missed the connection with people. Anyway, I answered an advert by Graeme Montgomery in Time Out and came back with a professional photograph of myself naked, and thought nothing more of it. Amazingly, though, in the next two weeks there were two more requests listed. The second guy, Mark Russell, came and photographed me at home with a large format camera, which was all wood and brass. And then the third guy photographed me on a Hasselblad. I know what all these cameras are now, but I still don't know much more about how they work.

It was in about 2008 that I went online to see what Graeme was up to and discovered he was advertising on Gumtree. I searched for photography and found all these people – mainly students – looking for people to photograph. It was only then that I began along the path of being photographed by different people. When I wrote to the first person from Gumtree I realised I had a project. So I never thought, 'Oh, I have Parkinson's – what shall I do to make myself feel better?' This just fell into my lap.

I wrote to Graeme in 2010 to request his permission for an exhibition I was putting on of the images taken so far. He was amazed that, by this point, I had done 128 photographs, and told me that in the same time he had moved to New York, fallen in love, got married and had a baby. Time had moved on for both of us, and I realised gradually, then, what I was becoming part of with this project.

Photo by Chris Friel

Have you found the process to be therapeutic?
Yes. The shoots themselves are the best bit; receiving the photographs at the end is like an added bonus. When the shoots start you get to know someone almost immediately – you're talking about things other than photography, but the thing is you've never got that feeling of, 'Oh, I've got to spend two hours with this guy.' You're too busy focusing on the shoot, and then any conversation that follows is a bonus. So you have this lovely mix of a working friendship, which has been really nice all the way through.

You've worked with some amazing photographers. Do any stand out in particular?
People have always asked if I've got a favourite photograph. My answer is always no, but I honestly haven't. I do sometimes feel stronger about the images in which I have more of an input – ones that feel like they are more of a collaboration between myself and photographer.

One good shoot was with Liz Orton. She was recommended to me by someone – I met her in a cafe in Stoke Newington to discuss our first shoot, which took us to some woods. We took along some balloons, experimented with myself in a suit, myself naked, and it was such fun. She'd direct me this way and that way. But for the second shoot, she put me in a box. And the reason for this is that when I had a panic attack in 1999 – which is one of the first signs of Parkinson's – I went and had cognitive behavioural therapy. The therapist said, "Your life is like a pile of cardboard boxes. Each is a section of it, so finance, marriage, kids, etc. It gets to a ceiling and there's no further to go. This is what causes a panic attack." This made sense to me and was the reason Liz put me in a box. She wanted me to get in and turn 360 degrees, which is not easy when you have Parkinson's. We eventually stopped for lunch and I climbed out of the box, but next door's garden had a low fence. Liz's neighbours were doing their gardening. They looked at me and simply said, "Hello, Liz, I guess you're doing your photography." They didn't bat an eyelid at the fact I was stark naked.

Photo by Graeme Montgomery

The nude is a recurring theme in the project – is being nude significant?
Yeah, I do love being naked. I put it in my first email – that I was happy to be photographed naked or otherwise – so that the photographer knew that was an option. It's funny with nudity, though, because people say, "There's a lot of nudes, aren't there?" I asked Jane, my wife, what percentage she thought it was, to which she answered, "About 50 percent at least." It's actually less than 20 percent.

Do you think "Over the Hill" is helpful for others with Parkinson's? Have you had much feedback?
Yes, I had a comment from a woman over in South Africa whose husband is a painter with Parkinson's. I think she found it quite inspiring. People with Parkinson's generally don't want to have it, obviously, but it's one of these things that's so slow moving. If people ask me to speak to relatives who have Parkinson's, I say "Yeah, give them my email address," but I never hear from them again. When I was first diagnosed I didn't want to tell anybody. I think it's because it's like something has been pulled from under your feet. I was sat down the other day and I paid attention to a man walking – I thought about how it's no effort to him; he doesn't have to think about it. Whereas, I'm thinking about each step I'm making. And because you don't want to admit you have it, you don't want to mix with the Parkinson's community. But I feel that you're either positive or you aren't. This sounds weird, but I was very lucky, in a way, to be given Parkinson's, because it gave me opportunity to do things that I would never have been able to do normally. So it's not been that bad a thing, really.

Do the positives outweigh the negatives at this point?
I'd say so, yeah. Someone said to me a while ago, "Wouldn't it be great if you could get rid of it, then you could go back to what you were doing before." And I said, "No, it wouldn't." I'm quite happy where I am. This was severely tested right before I had my operations, though – it got quite bad then. You may notice now that my speech is quite forced, because sometimes when I'm tired or I'm in a situation where I have to explain things, as I am now, I find it not as easy as I used to. That is a bit dispiriting, but then if you get around that on a good day, or you say something that comes out OK, you win that little battle. It's like a continuing fight.

Photo by Chris Floyd

Do you think "Over the Hill" has been about documenting the progress of Parkinson's, or is it about something else?
Something else, definitely. A lot of people concentrate on the Parkinson's as an idea for their photograph. And of course I can't separate it from my life completely as it's very much a part of my life, but some people have wanted to take photographs for a project of their own that I've fitted into; others have wanted to illustrate me shaking, which I don't mind at all. But I feel it's a project which is a documentation of me, at a time where I happen to be ill – and therefore this becomes a large part of it. It's been a very interesting way of examining myself and examining the past particularly. It's also enabled me to write in a way that I never thought I would be doing – making a record of the relationships I've made with the people who photographed me. The writing became almost as important as anything else in the project; over the years it has become more thoughtful and deeper. The photography is controlled mostly by the photographers; my main input in this project is the blog writing – it allows me to contribute to this document.

And it's all wrapped up now, right?
It finished on the 17th of June – it just felt like the right time to call it. I've had a few little blips before when I've thought about stopping, but each time felt regretful and carried on almost immediately. This time feels different, though; I feel like it's had it's day. In an ideal world I'd like to have a book and an exhibition of the whole lot. To have it in a book would mean to have something tangible that I can pick up and look through. But outside of that I'm sure I'll carry on being photographed by people.

Thanks, Tim.

@CBethell_Photo

More on VICE:

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The VICE Guide to Right Now: Everything We Know So Far About the Russell Square Stabbing

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A police officer places flowers in Russell Square after a knife attack last night. (Photo: Jonathan Brady / PA Wire/Press Association Images)

A 19-year-old man is being held on suspicion of murder after a woman was killed and five others injured during a stabbing spree in central London. The attack started at 10:30PM on Wednesday night in Russell Square, a short walk from tourist hotspots like the British Museum.

Police arrested a man at the scene after stunning him with a taser. He is now being held in a south London police station after receiving treatment in hospital and has been identified as a Norwegian national. The murder victim is a woman who is believed to have been in her sixties and has not yet been identified. She was an American citizen.

The Guardian has reported that guests in the Imperial Hotel right by the incident described hearing screaming from the square below, while witnesses to the aftermath saw a body lying on the floor as armed police arrived. Other accounts suggested the attacker was wearing a motorcycle helmet.

Britain's most senior counter-terror officer, Mark Rowley, said early reports suggested mental health could be a factor in the attack, and Scotland Yard hasn't referred to terrorism in any of its most recent statements, saying it is now keeping "an open mind" about the motive. They have subsequently described it as a "spontaneous attack".

Two women and three men suffered "various injuries" in the incident and were receiving treatment in hospital. Three were discharged on Thursday morning.

One witness to the aftermath, Philippa Baglee, said she arrived at the scene to see "someone lying on the ground and lots of people around and a guy with a black motorcycle helmet balanced on top of his head walking around. He was on the outside of everyone looking on the ground. The moment I saw an ambulance and police car arrive, I thought someone had just been knocked off their bike."

When describing the man, she said he was short and dressed in what may have been all black leathers. She added: "It was all very calm. No one was panicking."

Police received the first call just after 10.30PM and arrived at the scene five minutes later. The investigation was led by murder detectives with the support of counter-terrorism officers.

Rowley, who addressed the public at 3.30AM outside Scotland Yard, said extra police patrols would be on London streets following the attack. "As a precautionary measure, Londoners will wake up this morning to notice an increased presence on the streets of officers, including armed officers, today. We would urge the public to remain calm, alert and vigilant," he said.

Scotland Yard had announced earlier on Wednesday that an extra 600 armed officers were being deployed on patrol in London after recent terror attacks in France and Germany.

Why It's a Big Deal that Nobody Can Afford to Own a House

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(Picture by: Alastair Grant / AP)

For a long time, owning your own home was a key milestone in Britain. Like leaving school or losing your virginity, it was another box to be ticked on the journey through life. But that was then, and this is now, an age of uncertainty where everything we knew to expect can no longer be taken for granted.

Home ownership in England has fallen to its lowest level for three decades. According to the Resolution Foundation think tank, the proportion of people who own their own homes hit a peak of 71 percent in April 2003, but has since fallen to 64 percent, the lowest level since 1986. London's housing crisis is well known, but the trend is being seen all over the country. In Greater Manchester, the proportion of homeowners has fallen from 72 percent in 2003 to 58 percent this year.

Of course, home ownership is not a right. But shelter is a necessity. And, if you don't own your own home, what is the alternative? Most of us don't aspire to property ownership for reasons of status or financial gain. (Although, in fairness, the free money is a nice bonus.) We want to own homes for one simple reason: Renting sucks.

Britain is geared up towards home ownership. For years, the rights of private tenants have been ignored because it's seen as a short-term fix, a rite of passage for those few short years between leaving your parents' home and buying your own. As the age of the average first-time buyer rises and rises, this attitude starts to look deeply flawed.

Figures from homelessness charity Shelter show that, by 2020, first-time buyers will need to earn £64,000 a year to secure a mortgage. Research by Halifax suggests the average age of first time-buyers is now 30. In London, it's 32. The truth is, many of us can never reasonably expect to own our own homes.

In the past, council housing has provided an alternative to the private rented sector. For everyone but the most desperately in need, this is now all but an impossibility. In 2014, there were 1.37million households on local authority waiting lists for housing. In the same year, councils built just 2,580 homes.

So, we're left to turn to Zoopla and Gumtree. For a snapshot of what's on offer, take a look at our London Rental Opportunity of the Week series. Even if your budget will stretch beyond a dirty mattress squeezed into a cupboard, you'll still be prey to spiralling prices, dodgy landlords, and rip-off estate agents' fees. In short, private renting is a racket.

Proponents of private renting often point to countries like Germany, where renting is the norm for many. But in Germany, you have rights. You can't be kicked out on a whim. Courts routinely side with tenants. There's rent control. You can find a two-bedroom flat in the centre of Berlin for less than you'd pay to go four ways on a bunk bed under the stairs of a suburban bedsit in London.

Beyond all this, there's the question of stability. Dan Wilson Craw, policy manager at campaign group Generation Rent, tells me: "Most tenants will be on six to 12 month tenancies. Outside of the contract, the landlord can raise the rent by whatever amount he thinks he can get away with and issue an eviction notice without having to give a reason. Basically, any private renter doesn't know where they are going to be living in a year's time."

According to Generation Rent, around a quarter of private renters have been forced to move unexpectedly or been issued with an increase in rent that they can't afford. "It's something that hangs over every tenant," says Wilson Craw. Even for those who aren't affected, the possibility of eviction is a constant threat.

When home ownership becomes a distant prospect, the rising cost and instability that is inherent to private renting has real consequences. It means an entire generation becomes transient. It means the break-up of communities. It means people trapped in damaging relationships because they can't afford to live alone.

It seems reasonable to ask what the government is doing to tackle this. The unfortunate answer is: fuck all. Construction in the wake of Brexit has come to a standstill. Even before the referendum, David Cameron presided over the building of fewer houses than any prime minister since 1923. Ministers routinely roll out policies aimed at boosting home ownership. Starter Homes allow first-time buyers to purchase properties at a 20 percent discount. How does that help when the average house price in London is now more than £600,000?

In 2015, the government extended Margaret Thatcher's Right to Buy policy to include housing association homes in England – offering discounts to tenants who wished to purchase their home. On the face of it, the policy brought home ownership within reach for half a million people. The reality is somewhat different. Analysis by Inside Housing last year revealed that almost 40 percent of properties sold under Right to Buy are now in the hands of private landlords. The policy exacerbates the very problem it was intended to solve.

This is what happens when housing is seen as an investment class rather than a human right. Generations before us have been taught to "invest in bricks and mortar", with no consideration for the fact that this would inevitably place housing out of reach for all but the privileged few. The prospect of a fall in house prices is still seen as a sign of economic apocalypse, rather than a correction to an unsustainable bubble.

For now, there is little sign that any of this will change. Everyone agrees we should be building more homes, but no one seems willing or able to do so. The truth is, there is no real incentive for politicians to bring house prices down. It is older people who vote in far greater numbers and, as a generation of homeowners, benefit the most from the status quo. House prices keep rising, and their investments rise in value. They never thought it would be any other way.

@mark_wilding

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Can Sadiq Kahn Solve the London Housing Crisis?

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An Arbitrary Top Ten of the Best Sonic the Hedgehog Games

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Screengrab from the 'Sonic Mania' trailer, via YouTube

I'm sure that you, like me, have bolted upright in bed in the past, around midnight, and screamed at your loved one, or simply at yourself in a mirror, eyes blood red and lips desert dry: what is the greatest Sonic the Hedgehog game ever made? It's a perfectly reasonable question, at any hour of the day. There have been so many video games featuring SEGA's pointy-of-shoe and blue-of-hue anthropomorphised mascot that it's a minefield trying to sift the stars from the sludge from the shite. Twenty-five years of memories, several best forgotten. But then, wasn't, no, wait... Was Sonic Drift any good?

Nope, it was a wreck. Total garbage. A desperate Mario Kart clone (okay, okay, spiritual successor to SEGA's own Power Drift) bashed out in 1994 for the slowly dying Game Gear. And it's far from alone in sucking amid the Sonic catalogue. It's not that there are more crappy Sonic games than not as the hedgehog celebrates his 25th, with the announcement of next year's Sonic Mania, but there's certainly a slew of series entries that aren't ever worth returning to. Some of those middling affairs, while holding up pretty creakily today, really didn't seem like complete disasters at the time: step forward, Triple Trouble. True missteps were rare in the 1990s, the isometric nightmare of Flickies' Island aside – it wasn't until the three-dimensional adventures of sixth-generation consoles that Sonic's stock began to fall, hitting rock bottom with 2014's Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric. (Still, as a Wii U exclusive, at least only eight people played it.)

'Sonic Mania', debut trailer

I've played a lot of Sonic games (but, disclaimer, not all of them, because no person alive is that much of a masochist) since getting the original into my sticky clutches – and that was the Master System version, not its more famous Mega Drive cousin, which was quite the different game. Because it's a thing to do, and due to the renewed interest in Sonic's early days because of the throwback aesthetics of Mania (which looks terrific), and this weekend's big Summer of Sonic get-together in London, I've put together this (unranked, so don't even) top ten without overthinking the whole thing too much. Just the games I remember being ace, and a few words on why.

Sonic the Hedgehog (Master System, 1991)

The first I played, the first I finished, and the one that I can still watch a walkthrough of on YouTube and remember every bounce, beat and great accompanying tune before it's introduced into the mix. Yuzo Koshiro was the man behind the music, adapting the 16bit melodies for SEGA's lesser-powered system but bringing in his own influential arrangements – the game's "Bridge Theme" was sampled for Janet Jackson's 1997 number-one single "Together Again". While the Mega Drive's Sonic had special stages hiding away its collect-them-all Chaos Emeralds, here they're tucked away in the regular levels, requiring a little cunning to reach – a better system, IMO.

Sonic CD (Mega CD, 1993)

There aren't many reasons for dusting off SEGA's love-it-or-loathe-it, but-these-games-come-on-discs peripheral, but Sonic CD sure as hell represents one of the main ones. It had the fastest gameplay of any of the series at the time, introduced Metal Sonic, and had all of the best (awesomely cheesy when they're not pulsing techno) songs, too (just not in the US version, sorry). Don't even think about arguing with me – just listen, and watch.

'Sonic CD', EU/Japanese ending (which had different, awful music in the States)

Sonic Rush (DS, 2005)

Sonic lost some of his trademark speed when making the move to 3D – necessary, really, so as not to blur around the screen with no accuracy. Sonic Rush lived up to its title, though: here was a Sonic, rendered in 3D but set within 2D levels, who couldn't stop running. Indeed, some might have found the game too fast; but for me, just seeing Sonic hammering through stages that nodded to their 16bit forefathers in brightness and clarity, was enough to feel that the old favourite was hitting form again. The boss stages were awesome, popping out of the top screen at Sonic, all metal limbs and snapping jaws – a 3D(S) version of this would be pretty special.

Sonic Advance (Game Boy Advance, 2001)

Because who doesn't want to sky-surf Knuckles or Tails down an outer space drainpipe in pursuit of a Chaos Emerald? Also, Advance is noteworthy for being the first Sonic game made for a Nintendo console, and it set a solid precedent: two direct sequels followed on the same platform, which I've not played personally but their review scores are up there.

Sonic the Hedgehog Spinball (Mega Drive, 1993)

In my head, this was amazing back when. But when I fired it up earlier today, in advance of writing these words that you're looking at right now, I was struck by how slow it was. Here were my teenage memories, being crushed by an unexpected reality. And then I found the option to switch it up from "normal" to "fast" in the options, and breathed one super-sized sigh of relief. Spinball is pinball with Sonic himself as the ball, except for in its bonus stages, when Sonic is at the flippers of a regular machine. I didn't get any further than the very start of stage/table/zone two (of four), though – this game is nails.

Sonic the Hedgehog 2 (Mega Drive/3DS, 1992/2015)

I already told you that the M2-made 3DS version of Sonic 2 is the best damn Sonic game ever, so go and read that.

Sonic & All-Stars Racing Transformed (loads of platforms, 2013)

Get past that absolute dog's dinner of a title and you've the best cartoony racer (with short cuts and power-ups and all that good stuff) for still-active systems that isn't Mario Kart 8. It's nowhere near as good as the Wii U's must-have that isn't Splatoon or Super Mario Maker, but when you've a handheld and a 90-minute commute, this is as good a time-killer as they come without getting deep into a sporadic-save-point JRPG. And there's nothing worse than having to step off the train knowing that there's still half a boss battle to get through before you've any chance of powering down. Transformed loses a mark Because No Death Stare, though.

Sonic Adventure (Dreamcast, 1998)

Look, I'm an advocate of Fat Sonic, so Adventure got off to a bad start with me. Check that prick on the cover – that's not the cutesy mascot of the Mega Drive years. That's some punk who'd knock your ice cream out of your hand down on the promenade, or spitball your back in French class. Dickhead. Adventure is pretty good though, isn't it? Biggest-selling Dreamcast game, you know – I own two copies (and no, you can't). One of the best 3D platformers of its time (and racer, and snowboard game, and flight simulator) – and 1998-ish was peak time for said genre. Made a star of Big the Cat. Hey, some people like him. (But then, some people also like poutine, so.)

Related, on Motherboard: GOG Just Released Some Classic 16bit Disney Games

Dr Robotnik's Mean Bean Machine (Mega Drive, 1993)

If you were a SEGA Boy in the early '90s, there was one game that Nintendo-favouring friends would always waft in front of you, because you could never have it. Tetris. Bloody Tetris. It was everywhere, but if you didn't have that so-sought-after monochrome handheld – and my dad was dead against me having one (I wouldn't until my late teens, when I got a Pocket model) – it was always just out of reach. SEGA had Columns, a match-three puzzler that was alright, but nowhere close to the genuine killer-app status of the Game Boy-bundled blocks game from the other side of the Wall. But Nintendo's other big falling-blocks puzzle game of the period, Dr Mario, was trumped by something from the company's biggest rivals, namely this mouthful. Mean Bean is Puyo Puyo, basically: match four beans of the same colour and they vanish, preventing your stack of them from breaching the top of the screen. And Puyo Puyo is, obviously, brilliant. Enough said, I think.

Sonic Heroes (GameCube, 2003)

It just looked so, so pretty. And the triple-protagonist set-up, allowing you to switch between Sonic, Tails and Knuckles (assuming you're using Team Sonic; other trios were available) to use each character's unique abilities, was a neat new twist on the series' staple gameplay. Heroes marked the debut of Sonic on Sony and Microsoft systems as well as the GameCube, but mainly, for me, this was less about the precedent it was setting for widening the franchise's audience, and all about the visuals: genuinely like a cartoon come to life.

Okay. I think that went okay. But if you want to tell me I'm a moron for not mentioning Knuckles' Chaotix (yes, I am one of those idiots who bought a 32X), you know where to find me.

@MikeDiver

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Vintage Photos from the Greek Island Where People 'Forget to Die'

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60s girls enjoying their summer. All photos courtesy of Christos Malachias via ikariamag.gr

This article originally appeared on VICE Greece

A few years ago, a friend told me about a Greek island where the population grows really, really old. As one spry local told the The New York Times, people in Ikaria "forget to die". The island has an amazingly high number of centenarians and one in three people on the island make it deep into their nineties in perfect health.

My friend booked us ferry tickets and when we got there, we asked some old ladies about the key to their longevity as soon as we had the chance. "Don't worry too much, drink red wine and eat honey," they adviced. Which I did. I camped out in the wild, swam in beautiful waters, went to festivals in the villages, drank copious amounts of red wine and danced to reggae in the moonlight with the Ikarians – and I'm entirely convinced everyone could be doing this well into their nineties.

Ikariamag.gr, the local site for the island, collects photos of the island through the years from Ikarian residents. One of those residents is Christos Malachias, who has a massive family photo archive going back more than 60 years, which he allowed me dig through. His photos show his family and friends enjoying the lifestyle that has helped the Ikarians to grow so incredibly old.

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Be Honest: Would You Give Your Mates an Honour If You Were Prime Minister?

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David Cameron on a visit to Shanghai in China with advisors (from the left) Liz Sugg, Director of Operations, Craig Oliver, Director of Communications and Ed Llewellyn, Chief of Staff who are all in line for honours (Picture by: Stefan Rousseau / PA Wire)

David Cameron's resignation honours list descended into chaos and accusations of cronyism after it emerged that he'd reward George Osborne, senior figures in the wildly unsuccessful Remain referendum campaign, his wife's stylist and even his personal drivers.

To give you an idea of how badly this has gone down, Tory donor Ian Taylor – who forked out £1.6 million to the party and £350,000 to stay in the EU – has sought to distance himself from the drama by actively requesting that he not be given a knighthood. Still, Dave's not letting any of this phase him, rising above it all on a £15,000 holiday to Corsica.

But how legit is this scandal anyway? Crony is another word for friend. Are we really angry at Cameron for having a great bunch of mates? If we had a PM who gives honours to people who actually deserve it, wouldn't that mean they're a total loner?

We took to the streets to find out if people would give their cronies, AKA mates, an OBE if they could.

VICE: Do you think the honours system means anything any more?
Miles, 28: I feel like it makes the award mean nothing for everyone else who's got it. I mean, if you've earned an OBE and then you find out that Samantha Cameron's stylist has got it, then what was the fucking point of getting it in the first place? It just makes it seem like a pointless award now that it's being handed out like sweets.

So you wouldn't give it to your mates then?
I would do it in jest. I'm a bit of a funny guy. If I was doing it, I'd do it to keep the morale high. Like, "Things are bad, but you know, there's a silver lining: here's an award for being a driver."

Do you hope Theresa May blocks it?
To be honest, it looks like a red herring to me. Everyone's getting fired up and riled about this, but on the flip-side, what are they doing behind the scenes that they don't want us to see?

Mmmmm.

How important do you think this cronyism scandal is?
Courtney, 30: It won't affect the general public. There's so many things happening in people's lives to care what David Cameron's doing. There's a lot of issues around the world that are just getting suppressed, like Syria.

Are you surprised by Cameron's behaviour?
That is a bit cheeky. It's so unprofessional; it's really dishonest. But the political system is based on corruption all over the world. I don't think anything will ever change. But Theresa May can step in and pick up the pieces.

Would you give honours to your mates?
If I was in government, it's highly likely I would. Wouldn't you give yours? Maybe not if I was in a position of power – it's a bit unorthodox. But I would definitely help people. I think it's a nice thing to help people.

Who would you give an award to then?
The NHS. It couldn't be anyone in particular. But definitely the NHS for the work they do; they deserve better recognition. David Cameron needs to start looking after the people like that.

Jax, 25 and Oscar, 25

Oscar, imagine you're PM. Would you give Jax an honour?
Oscar: If I didn't have priorities and I was just chilling out, then I probably would. It's just a matter of signing a piece of paper. I'm a giver, so I'm more about making people happy. And if it was going to further whatever they're doing in their life, then absolutely.
Jax: It's literally only a paper. I love my friends, I'm all for that. If there was time and resources and everything in the country was fine, I really would.

How do you feel about this honours palaver?
Ryan 25: Cronyism is terrible. There's people that deserve the awards. People who work at a grassroots level. People who work with young people. I'm from Hackney and we've seen social services eroded, nothing for the youth. There's less now than ever. If anyone deserves an honour, an OBE, it's people helping young people.

Would you give your mates honours?
I wouldn't. They need to earn it. I don't know if I agree with the concept of an OBE, what it stands for. I don't know if we should be spending money on honours in this day and age. Money could be spent elsewhere, taxpayer's money, rather than on pomp and ceremony. When the common man or woman is seeing cuts to services, privatisation and the NHS, then you see all these very well-to-do people, the elite, celebrating themselves... it's expected; I'm used to it, sadly. Doesn't mean I agree with it, though. It should be discontinued as soon as possible.

Rubin, 20 and Raihana, 21

Would you give your mates honours if you were PM?
Raihana: If my friends did something good enough, then of course I'd give it to them.
Rubin: Yeah, we wouldn't be biased. But you can't be Prime Minister and do something like that; it's unprofessional. You can't be like, "Oh, I'm not Prime Minister now, it doesn't matter. I don't have much responsibility, I can just go to my home in the countryside and live with my family." Not acceptable.
Raihana: As Prime Minister, you're given responsibility to act with a neutral head and actually give people honours who deserve things.
Rubin: There are more people worthy of honours. There must be people out there and they'll never be recognised. There will be.

So how do you feel about it all?
Tanya, 32: It's bullshit because it just makes everything meaningless if you're just giving things for the sake of it because you know them. I don't care about OBEs, they're bullshit.

Be honest, would you give your mates honours?
All my mates are awesome, so I probably would, so that's the thing. It depends what your friends are doing, though. I've got some mates doing some really good things, but if your mates are working a normal job... I've got friends who are stylists; I wouldn't give them an OBE.

Theresa May might scrap it. How do you feel about that?
It's so irrelevant to my life who has an OBE and who doesn't. It's so elitist. This side of society is a mirage, it's an illusion. There's no substance behind it. Stuff like this shows us where the cracks are. We can do better than this. Who is going to take orders off people who are awarding their wife's stylist OBEs? Why are we listening to these idiots?

So Cameron's wife bagged herself an honour. Does she deserve it?
Zeba, 28: Samantha's got great style, but is that really that award-winning?

So do you think this just reflects the old boys network at its worst?
Well, it wouldn't happen with Jeremy Corbyn, would it? The leadership election is coming up. I'm holding out for him, so I'm optimistic things might change.

@its_me_salma

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The VICE Guide to Right Now: Skateboarding Is Now Officially an Olympic Sport

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(Image via Olympics.org)

Not sure how the whole drug testing thing is going to work out, but hey, anyway, good news for those who wanted it: skateboarding is now an Olympic sport!

The International Olympic Committee (IOC) voted unanimously on Thursday to include skateboarding in the 2020 Summer Games in Tokyo. The Olympics will include both men's and women's park and street events, with a total of 80 skaters – 40 men and 40 women – competing in them.

The thinking was that skating would draw a young audience in. "We want to take sport to the youth," said IOC president Thomas Bach. "With the many options that young people have, we cannot expect any more that they will come automatically to us. We have to go to them."



(Image via Olympics.org)

Skateboarding is just one of five sports that have been added to the Olympic programme, alongside sport climbing, karate, baseball/softball and surfing.

While it's good news for the Olympic Committee, others – namely lots of skaters – aren't so happy about skateboarding's inclusion in the Games, citing the fact competitive skating is always kind of lame and not really keeping in the spirit of what the sport's "supposed" to be about.

"Skateboarding was cool because it was something different," said one commenter on an article on The Ride Channel. "Skateboarding just took one more step towards being a lot like gymnastics or figure skating. Damn it," said another.

But the decision still has its champions: International Skateboarding Federation president Gary Ream said: "I've always believed that if skateboarding was properly protected and supported, its appearance on the Olympic stage could change the world."

So there you go; the 2020 Summer Olympics will take place in Tokyo from the 24th of July to the 9th of August, so make sure to tune in to see exactly how the world is affected.

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Tales of Everyday Supermarket Self-Service Checkout Scams

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(via Wikimedia)

According to University of Leicester criminologists – who I am sad to announce are grasses, bad grasses, the worst of all the grasses – day-to-day theft is on the rise thanks to that most brilliant of inventions, self-service checkout machines. Unexpected item in the bagging area? Not if you straight up steal it by scanning it through as an especially heavy onion. The overwhelming feeling of the report is 'theft is bad', with supermarket losses supposedly doubling since the introduction of self-service and the advent of lowkey, easy-to-do, palm-it-off grocery theft. But we all do it. Even people who have never stolen in their life know to scan anything from the bakery as a humble bread roll. Even people who are nailed-on going to heaven have, in a moment of poverty-induced weakness, Scanned The Onion. Here some people share their #hot #tips on how to scam Tesco out of small quantities of money.

JACK, 27

I'd had maybe three pints – the magic number – before going to Sainsbury's to pick up some dinner. I was feeling confident, fearless, because of the magic pints, and when I got to the till decided to try the onion scam on a £4 pack of cod. I hit the onion button, punched "1" into the quantity bit and put my cod in the bagging area.

The red light immediately started flashing. I began to sweat. A man in a Sainsbury's polo shirt asked me why I had tried to pass off two cod fillets as a solitary onion.

"What? No I didn't – I scanned the cod," I said to the man, lying fairly obviously.

"No you didn't," he said, accurately. "You scanned an onion and then put that cod in your bag – I watched you."

"Uh sorry, did I?" I asked, for some reason. I was so hot and red. So so hot.

"Yes," he said. "Don't do it again."

"Okay," I said, and left, without any dinner.

VIVIENNE, 25

I always end up paying more at self-service checkouts because I pick up the reduced stuff and it always scans the full-price label.

EMILY, 26

My friend got banned from a Tesco in Brighton because he kept scanning whole chickens through as one banana. Personally I just run fancy pastries through as an onion so they're not as expensive.

JIM, 28

My soul is largely pure and sin-free although, father, I have to admit that I once put a 12-pack of assorted Krispy Kremes through as a plain 12-pack of Krispy Kremes. I wanted jam and icing Krispy Kremes but I didn't want to pay for them, but I still wanted to be honest about the fact that I was buying Krispy Kremes. This saved me somewhere between £1.50 and £2. I was sweating throughout this endeavour. I am not cut out for high crime.

RICHARD, 24

Krispy Kremes are the best doughnuts to emerge from the realm of baked goods. They're smooth; they're soft; they come in a range of flavours to suit every palette. They're also freaking expensive. So in my heady and golden and dry-mouthed days of getting stoned and ascending to a perpetually confused state of being every single day, my friends and I devised a procedure in which we could eat our weight in Krispy Kremes for a fifth of the price. It's simple, really. Just scan that glob of royal dough in as a normal Tesco doughnut. Way less risky than scanning a pack of mince in as a load of onions, because the weight will always be the same, and the rewards are greater. Sugar is a triumph over the blood-soaked remains of a bovine animal. It is the antidote for cotton-mouthed teenagers the world over. Plus: bonus round! Put that shit in the microwave when you get home and cooly attain the god-level of heaven.

ALED, 32

When I was at uni and had just started writing for magazines I was broke so I'd go in to get my sandwich for lunch and then roll the magazine up and put it under my arm like you do when you're walking around with a copy of the Standard. If someone asked at the checkout I could say, 'Oh shit, I forgot' and laugh it off. But no-one ever asked so I just got free music magazines.

OLIVER, 27

I've always been obsessed with scamming supermarket checkouts, and it's not even a money thing. As an 11-year-old, I once sneaked a discoloured and out-of-date Boost bar into a local shop, placed it on the shelf and – an hour or so later – returned to buy it. As I handed the bar to the lady at the till she paused. Rotating its mangy packaging in the light and squeezing its spongy body, she frowned confusedly. Sniffles were chugging from my nose and I was going bright red, but the lady didn't notice. And eventually she put it through the till and I walked out beside myself with happiness. So for the next fortnight, I repeated the same thing every single day, and it just got funnier each time. Afterwards I'd be curled up on the pavement around the corner, staring at the bar and crying with laughter at the very idea that they were charging me for this hunk of debris. 13 times I bought that Boost – and it's making me laugh now.

But on to present day stuff. Every so often at lunchtime, I'll want something fancy. When that occurs, I head to my nearest Tesco, pick whatever £6 Heston Blumenthal wanker Tory snack I desire and carry it over to the reduced section. There I hold the snack flat in one hand and pick up the yellow stickered items with the other, making my arms into a set of scales. When I find something of equal weight, I do the old switcheroo: peeling the sticker off the reduced item and placing it over the bar code on the one I actually want. Scan it through at the self-service, remembering not to panic when your halloumi & rocket wrap comes up as a salsa/sour cream combo dip, and the robot doesn't know the difference. This is a classic grift sure to provide you with both thrills for when you're bored and more money for scratch cards.

VICE in no way encourages or endorses these terrible acts.

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We Asked a Psychiatrist About the Questionable Link Between Mental Health and Terrorism

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Floral tributes near the scene of a fatal stabbing in Russell Square, London, after a 19-year-old man was arrested on suspicion of murder after a woman was killed and five people injured in a knife rampage in central London. (Picture by: Jonathan Brady / PA Wire)

Since the police confirmed last night's stabbing spree at Russell Square was not an act of terror, the 19-year-old man currently held on suspicion of murder has already been described as a "crazed knifeman lunging for anyone he could see".

This is nothing new: there have been plenty of examples of media making the jump from "terrorist" to "someone with mental health issues" when talking about the perpetrator in the aftermath of horrific things happening to innocent people. But the general practice of conflating terrorists and people with mental health issues before a diagnosis has been given is dangerous; inaccurate beliefs about mental illness and violence have the ability to encourage widespread stigma and discrimination.

To find out why certain papers and sections of society leap to ascribe attackers' motivations to mental health issues, I got in touch with psychiatrist Dr Simon Wessely. We spoke about the media's reporting of recent attacks across the world, and what should be done to lower the likelihood of future incidents.

VICE: Is mental health being used as a scapegoat for terrorism?
Dr Simon Wessely: Partly, yes. When someone does something that at first sight seems utterly awful and unbelievable and impossible to understand, the reaction is, "He must be mentally ill." And then when you ask, "Why did he do it?" the answer is, "Because he's mentally ill." So it's a completely circular argument and not a helpful reaction, because although it may or may not be true, it doesn't explain anything, and often it's wrong.

What would a better reaction be?
A better reaction, first of all, would be to decide if they are mentally ill or not. We define mental illness by certain sets of criteria and a diagnosis. When given a case, we set out to determine whether the subject is schizophrenic, suffering from depression or whatever it could be, and then we look at whether this can actually be related to what they've done, which we call a formulation. So, first of all, you should assess the person and come to the right view, and that's what we do, but we don't do this overnight or straight after hearing a news bulletin. The person in Russell Square will see a psychiatrist for certain, and they will write a report and decide on his mental health, and then a court will decide how relevant that is and what should be done about it. We have procedures for doing these things that we always follow.

What have you made of the reporting of recent attacks and the intersection with mental health?
I know no more about the Russell Square attack than you do, and it's wrong to speculate, but what I can say is that what keeps me awake at night is the threat of organised terrorism in this city and this country. It's a genuine risk, and I know it won't be carried out with people with mental disorders. We know that terrorist groups actively un-recruit people with mental health issues, and this has been the case for a very, very long time, because of stigma. They're seen as unreliable, difficult to train and regarded as a security threat, which is why your honest-to-god terrorist that poses a threat to our society is not going to be mentally ill. All the studies show that terrorists' rates of mental disorder are very low, and where they do have mental disorder it's often a consequence of what they've done rather than the cause of what they've done. This is much, much more likely. So the people coming back from Syria may well have mental health problems, but this is likely to be a consequence of everything they've done.

What we may be talking about now are people called lone actors. These are people who are not part of organised groups, and there is evidence they do have a higher rate of mental health problems. The evidence is sketchy because – thank god – they don't have very many of these people , but we do know that in those instances there's a higher rate of mental health problems. It isn't any specific health problem, so some will have schizophrenia, some may have some form of autism, and others are just alienated, disturbed people with fractured social backgrounds.

So do you see terrorism and mental health being in any way related?
Organised terrorism, no, but lone actor terrorism, yes. The evidence is clear that there are links in some, and more than you would expect by chance alone. So there is a relationship, just as there is with homicide and mental illness, but remember that it's still very rare. As a proportion of those with mental illness, it's tiny. We have systems for dealing with this, we have the courts, we have forensic psychiatrists who do deal with some dangerous and psychotic people who also talk in radical terms, but are clearly mentally ill, and there's people already being treated in our leading secure forensic settings. We have systems for people at the severe end of the spectrum. Where we have big gaps is the more moderate forms which are not severe enough to warrant attention, but cause concern, and that's where the government needs to make good on promises to make substantial investments in mental health services. £1.4 billion is what was promised in the budget before the last election, and we've yet to see that – but that kind of money will make a difference, and it's the best way of dealing with the growth in the number of alienated people, or whatever you want to call them.

How should society deal with this link?
In each case, you need to find out what their background was, what was behind this, and from there, there may be a role for mental health issues. Terrorism and radicalisation is not a mental illness, so what we do about terrorism is for the police to deal with. What we do about these more lone people who may have mental health problems is make good our promises to improve our child and adolescent mental health services, make them accessible to these people, which is difficult, and use all the tricks we can – through community outreach, community leaders, working with schools and parents – to identify with troubled teenagers and try and help as best we can. If that reduces these events, fair enough, but it's going to be very difficult to know that because they're so fortunately rare.

What worries us is that if we focus all our efforts with adolescents and young people on the prevention of terrorism, you could actually further alienate and then radicalise people already feeling marginalised, alienated, unhappy, disturbed or obsessive – you might add one more to their list of grievances.

We have a prevent and channel programme to which you can refer teenagers suspected of quote-unquote "radicalisation". We don't really have any data about how this is working or what the outcomes are, and I think it's very important that we don't shroud all this in secrecy; we should be open about what the programmes, results and practices are, because a lot of people are already very, very suspicious about these kinds of programmes, partly because they don't know what they are.

How do badly reported stories on people who may or may not have mental health issues influence people actually living with mental health issues?
Well, not great, is the answer. It's a pity, because the media have been making considerable strides in the way they report mental health problems in the last few years, and there's no question about that. Most of the time the media are far more responsible, and I hope we don't go back to the ways of the past. I think, just as we have responsible reporting with suicide now, we should seriously think about how we report these issues. I'm not saying we shouldn't report them, because obviously that's going to happen, but we should change the way we do it.

What does generally worry me is what this could actually cause, because we know suicide can be contagious; we know school shootings in America can be contagious. We have to report this in a responsible way, because there is a genuine risk of contagion. the French no longer carry the pictures of perpetrators, and I think that's something we should consider. These issues are a massive public interest, but they need to be reported in a specific way; we can't make people seem heroic. And also, let's be clear; 20 percent of the population has a mental illness. Three percent has schizophrenia. That's a lot of people. Maybe three or four of them are going to go and do this kind of event or horror, and all of us will have members of our family, our friends, even our children, who have mental health problems, and they're not going to take very kindly to such bad representation.

Thanks, Dr Wessely.

@YasminAJeffery

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The Weird Cynicism of Using Children to Back Up Your Political Opinions

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An angry toddler (Photo by Mindaugas Danys)

My beautiful five-year-old son Terrence, who is the most incredible and wonderful thing in my life, whom I love unreservedly, and who doesn't exist, asked me a question today. He turned his big dark eyes towards me, eyes full of wonder and curiosity and a wisdom far beyond his years, and spoke. "Father", he said – he always calls me "father", he's very precocious – "Father", he said, "why is it that middle-of-the-road media commentators are constantly trying to make political points by relaying cutesy outbursts from their infant children?" And I didn't know the answer. But because I love this child I cruelly invented just to make a political point, this child that will disappear and die as soon as I no longer have any use for him – because I love him more than anything, I was determined to find out.

Terrence was right; a lot of people look like they might be are constantly engaged in the faintly worrying act of inventing small children, or inventing comments said by children. There are the ones who do it for laughs, desperately miserable adults crouching alone in their mildewed single-occupancy apartments, writing left-handed as they create little birthday cards the kids they never had made for them, full of charming little errors and a child's cutting but uncomplicated view of the world, to be uploaded for exactly 18 retweets and 27 likes. "Daddy loves to go to the pub, I think it's because of me!" These people are basically harmless; we're all crafting deranged little fantasies for ourselves that make the world seem a little bit sweeter and nicer, and what's the difference between "didn't my child do the most adorable thing" and, say, "the people I work with like me and consider me to be a friend", or, for that matter, "human civilisation is viable in the long term"? The really strange and dangerous people are the ones who've decided that you should base your political opinions on the toothless, sugar-blitzed mumblings of an eight-year-old child.

And these people aren't just internet nobodies grasping for anonymous affirmation, but op-ed writers, the people who are trusted with shaping the public discourse through the example of their clear, perceptive, big grown-up thoughts. But when the time comes for them to really make their defences of an increasingly unpopular status quo, they seem to be constantly delegating responsibility to their children.

The New Statesman's Sarah Ditum, for instance – the other night, her 10-year-old child fell about laughing at the prospect of a Jeremy Corbyn premiership, a laughter that said more than a fleshed-out opinion column ever could.

The BBC's Chloe Tilley has a seven-year-old daughter who doesn't understand the parliamentary system but does tend instinctively towards popular sovereignty.

Across the Atlantic, it's worse. Take Mother Jones's Clara Jeffery, for instance. Her eight-year-old, Milo, made a naïve-sounding but actually very complex point about how left-wing purism only ends up enabling the political right.

Then there's Stephen Marche, a columnist for Esquire, whose four-year-old daughter can see right through Donald Trump's bluster and narcissism to perceive the tiny, scared, vulnerable man locked away in a fleshy orange prison.

And Sarah Kendzior's young daughter never stops. In one incident she was so enraged at Bernie Sanders actually debating Hillary Clinton during a debate, rather than weepingly prostrating himself before her (he even wagged his finger, the horror of it) that she was unable to contain her righteous liberal-feminist rage.

And in another, she effortlessly set up her mother for a simply brutal punchline, suggesting that the two of them having been running a chat-show double act for at least two decades.

If you read through the replies to any of these statements, you'll come across dozens of people calling bullshit, and it's not hard to see why. If we're to have any faith in the future of the planet, we have to believe that our children are not already turning into smug kiddie pricks that slyly repeat the conventional narrative as if this is somehow puckishly transgressive. For what it's worth, I have my suspicions; I'd be ready to stake a claim that not one of the incidents above ever happened. But I can't prove it. After all, these are deeply mainstream ideas, and the all-consuming fug of ideology wouldn't be doing its job if it weren't reaching even the youngest children. These are no ordinary children, too; they're being brought up by pundits, toddling along in their footsteps.

I lied; my son Terrence isn't five, he's much younger than that; in fact, he's a newborn. As soon as the doctors cut his umbilical cord he opened up his tiny little eyes, focused dimly at what must have been only the vaguest outline of my face, and instead of crying he said, "But father, even if these things did happen, why are they telling us? These parents aren't just proudly relaying clever things their children said; they're instrumentalising them, they want us to agree with them. Do they really believe that the thoughts of some impertinent milksop might have a credibility that the pundit classes are losing? Who could possibly think that?" And he was right; the child is always right.

Why would we be expected to give more credence to a child's opinions than those of their parent, who is actually paid to think about this stuff? There's a sense in which children are supposed to have a clearer view of the truth – their perception hasn't been clouded by ideological commitments or too many over-complicated books. In a child's mouth the platitudes of the media consensus can sound more like objective political reality. When your adorable six-year-old says that benefits reform is sadly necessary, or that we need to get the deficit down before we worry about anything else, or that Jeremy Corbyn or Bernie Sanders are bad men who did the bad thing, it can't possibly be because they have any vested interests. They're just calling it as they see it. And this is because the one thing children can never be is cynical.

Bringing children into the discussion is a near-foolproof way of making people feel guilty about their cynicism. You might not believe the story, but even so it tugs at your conscience: why are you being so mean about such a cute little fable? In her widely applauded speech to the Democratic national convention, Michelle Obama made this explicit. She spent almost her entire slot talking about children – her children, Hillary Clinton's children, the children that will grow up under the next President of the United States. "We cannot afford", she concluded, "to be tired or frustrated or cynical." This is something of a nonsense sentiment – if the children are at stake, shouldn't we be more cynical, to avoid handing their lives over to someone who works in nice-sounding phrases but might have – purely hypothetically – helped cause the deaths of thousands of actual children in Iraq and Libya and Syria? But that's not how these things work. We're talking about children here. No cynicism allowed, or you'll make the little angels upset.

It reminds me of something my unborn son Terrence said the other day. "Father", he said mashing his still-forming gums, "isn't the political deployment of children to guard against reasonable cynicism itself a deeply cynical move?" And you know what? I think he might be right.

@sam_kriss

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We Asked An Expert What Japan’s Mass Stabbing Means for the Country

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Japanese reporters outside the home of Satoshi Uematsu, who allegedly killed 19 in a mass stabbing last month. (Photo by Richard Atrero de Guzman/NurPhoto)

Late last month, authorities say a man named Satoshi Uematsu used a hammer to shatter a first-floor window at his old workplace, a residential center for the disabled about an hour outside of Tokyo. Once inside, he proceeded to carry out a horrific stabbing spree that left 19 people dead and at least 20 more injured in the deadliest attack in Japan since World War II.

The assault was shocking on a variety of levels. For starters, Japan has one of the lowest homicide rates in the world; in 2012, there were just three gun deaths in the entire country. There's also the fact that, prior to carrying out this plan, Uematsu wrote a letter detailing his bizarre fixation on killing people with disabilities, offering to eradicate mass numbers of them so long as the government changed his name and ponied up some serious cash to help him start over. He was fired from his job and later sent to a mental hospital, but somehow got released after being deemed less than dangerous. Finally, it's curious that the story didn't make more of a splash in the United States given the sheer volume of death.

For some perspective on Uematsu's crime, I called up Anne McKnight, an English professor at Shirayuri College in Tokyo. We talked about how people there view the crime and what's been missing from Western accounts. She explained some of the broader social currents percolating before the attack, like a massive elderly population enjoying a robust welfare state and a trend away from national pacifism. "As you may have read, Japan is increasing as a security state with the government wanting to remilitarize the country," she told me. "A lot of things are open in terms of what direction the country will go in."

Here's what she had to say about the worst mass killing in recent Japanese history.

VICE: What's the reaction been like to this story domestically, in Japan?
Anne McKnight: A lot of kind of stunned silence, because this guy is a loner, and it sounds like he was unfriended by a lot of people when he did start to go off the rails.

One narrative that's coming out is that this guy wanted to be a caretaker. He was in a teacher-training course, and then he worked in a nursing home. So people are kind of wondering at what point he made that turn––from wanting to care for people to then taking on the role of cleanser of the weak. Everyone agrees it's a senseless crime––he claims no allegiance to any organized group. So in that sense it's very different from a lot of the large-scale political crimes of the 60s, like the governor of Tokyo is pretty right-wing. There is a tendency toward militarization and security, and the Olympics are coming here. It'll be interesting to see how that plays out. People in the West have a knee-jerk tendency to celebrate anyone for being a woman. Well, Margaret Thatcher was a woman, so there you go.

Follow Allie Conti on Twitter.

Meet the Woman Making the Best New Male Sex Toy

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A horny dude will put his hard-on just about anywhere to get off. Besides their God-given hands, men masturbate by using products like the Fleshlight, humping their beds, sticking their meat in cuts of real meat, or dropping a few grand on a dead-eyed sex doll. Even with all of those places to put your penis in, I'm surprised that I rarely hear about guys using sweater sleeves to make their junk nice and toasty.

A friend of mine recently sent me a link to the Swoon Kink store on Etsy, which uses cashmere to make restraints, floggers, and, yes, masturbation sleeves. The sleeves look like a miniature cashmere sweater made for a small child or dog, with a ribbed-and-folded section at one end of the sleeve. (For all the Silicon Valley bros out there, there are also sleeves with hoodies attached). I was skeptical about having a bunch of yarn jangling on my Johnson, but regardless, I ordered one for my very own, a blue-and-brown-striped sleeve ($23, plus shipping) that seemed like the perfect accessory for my preppy pecker.

When it arrived in the mail, I was struck by was how professional the packaging was. My little fuzzy love maker was snuggled around a cardboard outline of a penis, with a tiny Prince Albert at the tip. There's also a tiny Swoon Kink tag at the sleeve's base, which makes the product seem more dignified—like an accessory from a high-end store, rather than a cock sweater I bought on the internet.

After a brief visit to PornHub, I was ready to get into my turtleneck. Jerking off with the Pleasure Sweater feels like a Muppet's dosed your dick with MDMA before jumping up and down on it until you have the warmest, strongest, most tingling orgasm of your entire life. It was absolutely incredible. I put the ribbed part around the base of my shaft, which it hugged with the perfect amount of tightness that not only provided pleasurable pressure but also kept the sleeve from moving around too much.

The soft fabric creates friction that doesn't chafe—an intense sensation produced because, whereas normally there's only sensation where the hand contacts the skin, the cashmere sleeve drags over all of your eager nerve endings for an overdose of stimulation. There's no time for the best parts of your Johnson to rest.

Naturally, the climax makes for a bit more of a mess than usual, meaning it's easy to get jizz all over the cashmere; the instructions call for the sleeve to be washed in cold water and dried flat, which works pretty well. Even cum rags need to be laundered—especially those of the high-end, dual purpose variety.

Susanna Gray, who created these sleeves, is an open-minded and sex-positive 54-year-old from Sunfish Lake, Minnesota. She's a packaging designer by trade and has a knack for sewing. When she saw a pair of fingerless gloves in a store, she decided to make a pair of her own; after showing them off to her husband, he said to her, "Know where this would feel good?" while pointing to his nether regions, so she decided to make him a little treat.

He liked it—a lot—and in 2010, she brought her product to the Smitten Kitten, a sex toy shop in Minneapolis. They ordered some sleeves and asked Gray to try her hand at restraints, whips, blindfolds, floggers, and the like. She was happy to oblige; now she sells sleeves through the Smitten Kitten and a few other wholesale clients, and she also sells about 10 a month through Etsy.

"There are men who prefer a moister experience when masturbating, and there are men who like friction—that was news to me," Gray laughs. "From what I've heard, appeals to the friction guys. There's nothing out there for them, so it filled a niche in a very luxurious way."

She makes the sleeves shrinking thrift store-bought cashmere sweaters in the washing machine to make the material tighter and more durable; she then sews the material into tubes, packages them, and ships them out to friction lovers the world over. Gray says that the biggest impediment to growing her business is streamlining the production of the sleeves, since at the moment she's the one doing all the work.

Still, she takes great joy in providing pleasure to so many people and doesn't think of her product as too raunchy. "I love that it's soft and cute, and it starts as a sweater," she exclaims. "That's just perfect."

Follow Brian Moylan on Twitter.

'Journey Live' Combines the Best Parts of Video Games and Musical Theatre

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Images courtesy of Sony and thatgamecompany

On the night that Journey Livetook place, a strange energy worked its way into the National Sawdust, Brooklyn's non-profit venue that hosted a live performance of Journey's fantastic score. As conductor and composer Austin Wintory raised his baton, the audience buzzed with an anticipation that veered between excitement and worry. The tension wasn't just because the Fifth House Ensemble was going to perform a game's score; along with the strings and woodwinds, people would also be playing through Journey as the ensemble performed.

Though clearly indebted to musical theater and ballet, the venture felt experimental, mixing a traditional concert with something resembling a "let's play" or "longplay," two popular video formats that turn games into a spectator sport. Journey was the perfect vessel for this experiment: The critically-acclaimed epic takes players on a trek through vast deserts, abandoned ruins, and to the peaks of distant mountains, communicating its story without any dialogue or exposition. Still, it wasn't a guarantee that Journey Live's conceit would be successfully executed.

Thankfully, Journey Live provided a skillful performance of a fantastic score, paired with the powerful drama provided by the performers playing the game. The audience—a mix of classical and experimental music buffs, game developers, and long time Journey fans—gave a standing ovation, and post-show chatter reflected a sense of surprise at how well it all came together.

For composer Austin Wintory, though, the idea of performing Journey's music alongside live gameplay came during the game's early stages of development: "While I was writing the score, it became clear that the game was going to be like a silent film, where the music would have a strong narrative function. Finding some way to put it on stage became intriguing."

After the game was released, Wintory conducted stand-alone sections of the score to critical acclaim, so when Fifth House asked him to perform the entire score live alongside gameplay, he leapt at the opportunity. Once the project's Kickstarter was successfully funded, Wintory was joined by composer Patrick O'Malley in undertaking the massive task of adapting the score for a live arrangement.

Though the National Sawdust performance wasn't the first performance of Journey Live—it debuted at MAGFest earlier this year—it kicked off the start of a new series of game-based performances at the venue. According to curator Natalia Schwein, the series is a way to bring game developers and composers together. "I went to film school and constantly hear young filmmakers talk about not being able to afford the rights to the music they want in their films. I wanted to create a space where young filmmakers and composers could get to know each other's work."

To enable that creative cross-pollination, each entry in the series will feature a masterclass at NYU hosted by the visiting composer, as well as a meet-and-greet event and an opening act put on by a student at the Game Center. That last element is especially intriguing, since it offers a platform for work being done at the intriguing periphery of games development.

"Listening to live music is as close as we get to skimming across the surface of the sun." -Austin Wintory

Take, for instance, Stephen Lawrence Clark's Rooftop Cop, which was the opener for Journey Live. A five-part abstract meditation on policing in America, Rooftop Cop stunned National Sawdust's crowd as Clark played the game, burying the audience in buzzing synths and heavy metaphors. The game's second vignette, "Capture the Flag, For One", tracks a single figure marching back and forth across a snowy field in pursuit of a flag—a simple metaphor for the objectives and procedures that guide policing practices. The structure of the scene subtly changes until the field is a hill—then a cliff, then an abyssal tomb. It happens so slowly that it's impossible not to see it coming, a trainwreck in slow motion.

Scwhein points out that Rooftop Cop was chosen months before the event, but also acknowledges that the timing couldn't be any more appropriate, calling it "the perfect opening act for the night and for Journey, which touches on our need for communication and community."

For his part, Wintory thought Rooftop Cop was an appropriate opener for Journey Live because it introduced a new audience to the broad potential of games as expressive art. "I love that this audience got to see what the world of student game developers looks like," he exclaims. "There's a lot of developers who aren't looking to make the next Call of Duty—or even the next Journey. They want to make something political, or sociological, or exploratory."

For Wintory, combining live music with complex and emotional games is an obvious choice. "Listening to live music is as close as we get to skimming across the surface of the sun," he says, and given the heat and brightness of Journey Live, it's easy to see where he's coming from.

I never doubted the artistic merits of Journey's score, but hearing it live rejuvenated my appreciation for it. As Wintory says, the music narrates the game's events; each percussive strike is an exclamation, and each violin hum is a gale of wind blowing.

But the gameplay transformed the music just as much as the music informed the play. Journey's onscreen characters charted a melodramatic course through the game, keeping a firm but curious distance until a joyous descent down a sunlit dune united them in a celebratory dance. They bounded with glee through Journey's caves and ruins, solving puzzles and leading each other to hidden collectibles.

Then, as things turned dark and dangerous, they grew apart. As one danced, the other stood still; as one carried forward, the other lingered behind, unwilling to continue the pilgrimage. In a massive, hollowed column that was slowly filling with water, the main player character wrapped their companion with their long scarf, offering a chirp to encourage them to come along. But they remained still, sitting in place as water rose over their head.

This was an emotive mode of play—a silent story of a relationship or a series of relationships falling apart, or the natural distance imposed by age or illness, or a series of relationships—but regardless of interpretation, it was impressive that a story was being told on top of the traditional epic tale that Journey already conveyed.

While the Fifth House Ensemble hasn't announced any future dates for Journey Live, Wintory told me that he'd love to continue performing the show for new audiences, as long as he can find time for it in his packed schedule. In the meantime, Wintory's latest project, Abzū—a spiritual successor to Journeyfocused on underwater exploration and meditation—launched earlier this week to a warm response.

The next entry in National Sawdust's new concert series hasn't been announced yet, but Schwein is optimistic about the future of the project: "Our hope is that the series starts conversations about the role of gaming—both in the lives of the creators (by creating a space for young artists to collaborate and be successful) and in the greater public (through meaningful games and human moments), while fostering relationships between young developers and composers." Given that goal, the strong showing of Journey Live—as well as Rooftop Cop— is as solid a proof-of-concept as you could get.

Follow Austin Walker on Twitter.


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