Zine reviews from issue 15. Some of the contact details might be out of date now.

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Hi there. My name’s Chris, I’m twenty-three and I have a confession to make. Whilst it might be a slight faux pas on my account to own up to this in front of all you streetwise professors, I went to Morecambe in the summer of 2004 for the first time in my life. It was great…

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I spent a week at the end of the summer on a holiday for people who are visually impaired. My role, apart from to have loads of fun, was to act as the ‘eyes’ for a different person each day. I didn’t have any experience working with blind people, or anyone with any kind of disability, so to say I felt like I was thrown in the deep end would be a real understatement.

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I sipped and smiled again and thought back to how different this now was to the beginning of our trip…

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Over its tender years the Tate has embraced a number of installations ranging from tall, spindly spiders, Rachel Whiteread’s sugar cubes and a ’sun’, reflected above in a mirrored ceiling, prompting visitors to lie down and wave their arms and legs about. These are all installations which feature as part of the Unilever series. Quite what a major multinational brand has got to do with sponsoring art shows is beyond me but I guess that’s all fairly irrelevant. Nevertheless it’s always interesting to see what will be there next….

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The last few days, we’ve been hanging around our garden in T-shirts. I’ve seen ladybirds and butterflies, and the trees are leafy and lovely and all that sounds great – but it’s fucken November!! Doesn’t anyone else think something really weird is going on?

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I roll motherfukkin snake eyes and wind up on Trafalgar Square, where Wilf is poised to bankrupt my poverty stricken ass. I cough up the cash and take another swig from the two litre keg of scrumpy we are sharing. It’s called Haymaker because it packs a punch and comes in a huge glass bottle, complete with a round finger hole so that I can swing it like right hook. Poor though I may be, at least I still got Mayfair and Park Lane. Oh and I’ve mortgaged Liverpool Street Station. Actually, this is starting to look bleak….

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When the folk inside Parliament claim that young people aren’t interested in politics, they could do themselves a favour and peek out the window to see a direct action demonstration largely attended by young people not bored with politics but bored with the abysmal policies of Tony Blair. Sack Parliament opened the door for a new movement. If the mainstream news were to be believed, the only youths in hoody’s were throwing petrol bombs at Muslims in Windsor. The ‘unreported’ hoody’s however, have united in Parliament Square to take the heroic action of civil disobedience by attempting to lie down in the middle of the road, thus stopping MP’s from entering the Houses of Parliament. One day without them in there will save a lot of destruction.

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Alison Bechdel started publishing her serialised comic Dykes to Watch Out For in 1983. During the ’80s it solidified into a coherent, engaging serial. Over the years the strip has distilled American popular culture through the prism of a gay female artist to critical acclaim and no little success considering most alternative serials in the [...]

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Interview with a member of the collective responsible for creating the radical journal “Notes of Resistance from Occupied London”.

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