Mumin Sahin, left, and Emin Ozmen (Photo by the NCA)

It's been a quietly historic end to the week. Two men have been handed a collective 42-year prison sentence, after being found guilty of possessing and transporting the biggest haul of class A drugs in UK history, according to the National Crime Agency (NCA).

On Friday, Mumin Sahin and Emin Ozmen, both from Turkey, were convicted of smuggling £500 million worth of cocaine on a route that allegedly started in Guyana before taking in Istanbul via Tenerife, ending in the North Sea. Coke load aside, that sounds more like a pleasant sailing holiday than a journey that's going to cost Sahin and Ozmen each at least 20 years of their lives.

The two men were sentenced in Glasgow, since their coke boat was stopped by the Royal Navy, Border Force and NCA in waters about 100 metres off the coast of Aberdeen, back in April 2015. Sahin, 47, was identified as captain of the ship with 51-year-old Ozmen his first mate.

"You were involved in a most serious operation of commercial scale involving the transportation of cocaine by ship, in an operation which crossed international and indeed intercontinental boundaries," said the judge, speaking in Glasgow's High Court on Friday. Fair enough.

Sahin and Ozmen had been found guilty back in July of this year. Their original plan seemed to involve cramming about three tonnes of cocaine into a nifty little hatch aboard tugboat MV Hamal. A tip-off from French customs intelligence agency DNRED combined with intel from the UK's National Maritime Information Centre to nudge the NCA in the direction of the boat, according to the crime agency's own account. Once intercepted – as part of an effort literally codenamed Operation Screenplay – a search uncovered the drugs in the hull of the boat.

Just a bit of drugs there, with a car for a sense of scale (Photo by the NCA)

Naturally, the NCA were chuffed. A load of drugs of this size is exactly the sort of morale boost the agency would want, after coming under scrutiny last year. A legal case surrounding the NCA's use of unlawful search warrants led to a High Court judge labeling the agency as "ignorant," "incompetent" and "remarkably ill-informed" last May. In November 2015, the NCA launched an internal inquiry into its use of warrants as a result.

In this case, it was all back-slapping and congratulations for the force. "Today's sentencing is the culmination of a truly international investigation into a seizure that was unprecedented in its scale for Scotland, the UK and Europe," said NCA officer John McGowan on Friday. "By making this seizure and putting these men behind bars not only have we protected the public but we have also caused major disruption to an international organised criminal network."

Sahin and Ozmen were both first offenders, who the court heard had worked in shipping since they were in their teens. Their lawyers argued they were glorified mules, caught up in much bigger crime organisation's web, and the judge acknowledged that captain Sahin was "not at the top of the drugs tree." In any case, Sahin was sentenced to 22 years in prison and Ozmen to 20 years. Their families haven't seen either man since they were taken into custody in April 2015.

More on VICE:

Here's What Happens After a Massive Cocaine Bust

I Infiltrated a Hippie Commune as an Undercover Cop in the UK's Biggest LSD Bust

How I Ended Up Producing Thousands of LSD Tabs in the 70s

Look at Berliac's website and Tumblr, and follow him on Twitter.

Photo via Flickr user Blue Coat Photos

In the age of the smartphone, the ability to recall facts seems fairly outdated. You can google everything from baseball statistics to the date of every historical event to "Is it safe if I use a wool sock as a condom?" So what good is it to have all that stuff clogging up your brain? Why learn how a pearl forms when the web is your oyster?

According to author William Poundstone's new book, Head in the Cloud: Why Knowing Things Still Matters When Facts Are so Easy to Look Up (out now via Little, Brown), possession of seemingly random tidbits of knowledge is correlated with increased income and even happiness. Using his own trivia-style questionnaires and findings from previously-existing polls and studies, Poundstone makes the data-driven case that the more facts you know, the more successful you are.

In the book's final section, Poundstone explains the ramifications of our seemingly increasing ignorance, and offers up solutions for the internet's shrinking of both our knowledge banks and attention spans. "What an amazing age," he writes, "in which cosmic mysteries can be revealed to all and ignored by almost all!"

VICE recently spoke with Poundstone about his findings, their ramifications, and the most obvious current example of willful obliviousness in our country.

VICE: Your studies find a lot of shocking correlations between seemingly trivial subsets of knowledge and increased income. I was most surprised that among college-educated 35-year-olds, those who scored 100 percent on a sports trivia quiz earned an average of around $50,000 a year more than those who scored 0 percent.
William Poundstone: That's certainly something that's gotten a lot of attention because you just wouldn't expect it. Obviously, it doesn't have to do with anything you learned in school, so it's good example of something that would seem irrelevant to put on a resume, but really has this effect. Part of the reason is that it applies to relatively easy sports questions. If you ask really hard ones that only a real sports fan is going to know, the correlation disappears. But with questions like Where does a shortstop play? or How many players are on a soccer team? You do get that correlation between knowing that stuff and higher income.

Why does this correlation exist?
I suspect that the explanation at its base is that this is something you can obtain by osmosis. If you just listen to the conversations at the water cooler, you're going to learn a lot about sports, even if you're not a sports fan. I think there is a real value in being interested in what people around you are saying, and taking an interest in whatever interests them. So if you can do that, it probably helps you in a lot of different areas of your career.

You can have very superficial knowledge, but there does still seem to be value in having that, just in being connected to the general culture. Just in having conversations with your coworkers, they'll know if you're the kind of person who has many interests and knows a lot of things, or else just someone who seems to have very narrow interests. If they peg you as the latter, maybe you won't be thought of someone who's management material. A good example of that is pronunciations. People who don't know how to pronounce segue or niche, that tends to correlate with lower income. I tend to think it's just a measure of how socially connected you are, although I'm ostensibly asking about dictionary pronunciations.

You pin lots of this seemingly random correlations between knowing facts and success on the benefit of simply "paying attention." Does being on the internet all the time hurt this?
There's what's known as the "Google effect," which has been the subject of a great deal of research. obviously reminds them of Trump. He's one person, and there's examples of this all around us, but I think he did play on a lot of these misconceptions that the American public has.

The idea that there's this war against white male Christians, you can see that when you do the interviews and ask people to estimate minority populations, and they come up with ridiculously large figures. They just don't have a sense of what the reality is. Although this might seem like a very small thing, if you have the wrong idea about what percentage of the American public is Latino, this does tend to affect some of your political views. I think that's a reason why you can't say, Oh, I don't need to know this, I don't need to know that, because even what you don't know or what wrong ideas you have plays big role in your political views and whole philosophy of life.

'Head in the Cloud: Why Knowing Things Still Matters When Facts Are So Easy to Look Up' is out now through Little, Brown and Company. Order it here.

Follow Patrick on Twitter.

Clearly this is a right hand but you get the idea

I've always been confused about my strongest hand. When I was knee-high to a grasshopper, I used to switch hands when writing or colouring in, when one or the other hand got tired. As a grew older I realised I was left-handed when I was writing but had an ambidextrous hangover because my stronger side was always my right.

But, I hear you ask, what does this mean for your preferred wanking hand of choice? Yes, a pertinent question. A little personal, as I barely know you, but it means in reality that I've always used both hands, and never really thought too much about it either way, you weirdo. After doing a bit of research I found that left-handed wanking, or "non-dominant hand masturbation," is a thing.

"I wank with my left hand so I can browse porn using my mouse easier with the right," is one excuse trotted out a lot by wankers. Others say the "orgasm is more intense and lasts longer when I wank with the left hand". Finally, a lot of wankers seem to say that "wanking with the opposite hand makes it feel like someone else is doing it". All good and valid reasons from people of an 'ambisextrous' nature (ZING). But to find out the real reasons why we may choose to bash off with our non-dominant hands I spoke to counsellor, psychosexual and sex addiction therapist Michael Stock, a member of the Association for the Treatment of Sexual Addiction and Compulsivity (ATSAC).

VICE: Why might you think guys might want to masturbate in different ways? What reasons have you heard so far?
Michael Stock: The key thing with internet porn is that the person, or teenager, watching it and masturbating separates sex from emotion. They're short-circuiting – going straight to strong sexual arousal using porn, rather than putting in the effort from being with a man or woman. When they switch on their computer, they have more porn than they can shake a stick at their command – with anonymity and accessibility.

So you think people end up wanking in different ways because it's become so easy to be aroused?
Yes. A typical guy will orgasm within about two minutes of starting to masturbate. Some people will say, 'no that's not me' but most men masturbate roughly to porn, completely focused on the idea that they have to get to the orgasm – nothing pleasurable about it. Some of my clients play around for several hours and might sit there watching porn, stimulating but not allowing themselves to come, but most come quite quickly.

What mental or physical difference can non-dominant masturbation make, then?
I imagine it's about variety, because the human brain craves excitement. If I were looking at porn I'd start on the reasonably soft stuff and then I'd want more and more, which all has to do with dopamine. That's when people get addicted. I've worked with clients who the only way they could come is masturbation – they couldn't even do couple sex anymore. So I can imagine that non-dominant hand masturbation is another way to get some excitement and make wanking feel different.

I see a lot of stuff on the internet about the shape of people's penises and how it affects things differently when masturbating. Have you come across anything like that?
I would say that's unlikely to be true. I think there are a lot of rumours but, first of all, most of us are boringly normal, and secondly the size and shape shouldn't matter. The only issue is if a man has been circumcised or not: circumcised men may find the head of the penis, filled with nerves, feels very sensitive. Unless the shape of the penis was absolutely extreme, it's not relevant.

Have you seen any experiments or research done on the right and left hemispheres of the brain and how that impacts on masturbation?
I think that's a red herring. Neuroscience says the right and left hemispheres talk to each other all the time – this idea is very overdone. You're right in the sense that as someone right-handed, the left hemisphere of my cerebral cortex controls my right hand and the right side of my brain controls my left hand. But I wouldn't think using one side of the brain or the other would be particularly important in masturbation. It would be different probably more realistically, if you think about it – and I'm going to assume you masturbate...

Assume away.
... If you were masturbating with one hand, your thumb and finger would be in a particular position, rubbing up and down the shaft of the penis. If you used your other hand, you'd stimulate other areas of the penis.

I'm ambidextrous, so this idea of right-handed people masturbating left-handed is a new thing for me.
You've made the case for me! You can be ambidextrous, able to do it either way around, and we can certainly learn to change. I'm strongly right-handed. I can write with my left but it's extremely difficult; it feels like I'd get brain-ache after a while. I would say that for someone imasturbating with their non-dominant hand, the main effect would a different, and somehow novel physical stimulation of the penis.

Earlier you mentioned how porn may be desensitizing us when it comes to our pleasure from masturbation.
I've had young men as clients, 18-year-olds, so hooked on porn that they've become uninterested in couple sex. We train our brain all the time, and I believe most of our behaviour is learned. Young guys in particular – say 16-year-olds – who masturbate a lot are in the middle of a crucial time when their brains are growing in complexity, in neuropathological ways.

At 16, your brain did something called "pruning." It went in and got rid of lots of neural pathways it didn't need, like a railway network over the UK that's gone mad laying tracks everywhere until you say 'This is crazy I don't need this track.' And your brain rips up a track. Your brain goes from an overgrown weed at 16 to a nice tree structure two years later – you've pruned your brain. Today's youngster are being exposed to more extreme porn when they're young, in this pruning stage, and that's where things have grown really interesting for someone in my line of work.

Wow, this got heavy, Thanks, Michael.

@williamwasteman

More on VICE:

The Scientific and Personal Benefits of Not Masturbating

Meeting the Family Behind London's Last Porn Cinema

The Future of British Wanking: Imagining a World Beyond the Tory Porn Ban

Abby Normal just wanted to find a good party where she could get naked without getting kicked out. For a long time, she thought that meant moving from Vancouver to Montreal.

"I kind of had this dream of moving there," she told VICE. While doing some camgirl work for a Montreal-based site, Abby was smitten with the city's tight-knit sex worker community and the weirdo art scene that came with it. "I was looking over the fence at this beautiful, wonderful thing, that I hoped and wished I could be a part of, but felt like I could never be a part of."

She knew that Vancouver had fetish and swinger scenes, but neither of those quite fit her party ambitions. "I just never felt I could access that because I didn't have the right uniform," she said. "I had a friend who was like 'Oh, you're trying to go to Montreal just so you can make arty blow job videos, why don't you try to make your own thing here?' It can exist in Vancouver, it's just nobody had went out of their way to make it, I guess."

Thankfully Abby took her friend's advice, and got to work bringing together that pervy-art universe on the West Coast. Today she has her hands in a bunch of sex-positive parties, the newest launching next week, the crown jewel being an East Vancouver club night and amateur strip show called Rent Cheque. Now the last Friday of every month, partiers sign up to take off their clothes in front of a reliably packed crowd, and compete for a couple hundred bucks in cash—the crowd deciding who wins.

Rent Cheque's Lex Gray and Abby Normal: 'We both needed a reason to stay in Vancouver.' Devious Behaviour Productions

The name and concept was actually passed on by an earlier dude-run event, then given "a makeover and a push-up bra," according to Abby. She and host Lex Gray just celebrated three years of truly strange and depraved performances by a rotating cast of freaks and geeks. "I think in the beginning people were trying to be sexy," Lex told VICE. "After several months, it became apparent to competitors and the crowd that those who were winning took big risks. They were doing strange things up there and getting out of their comfort zone. That ended up being what the crowds usually voted for."

In a year where actual rent is out of control and young creative types are fleeing Vancouver, Rent Cheque has become a party the city didn't know it needed. Not because it actually pays anyone's bills, but because it's a rare outlet for radical, naked, East Van self-expression; a place where you can ride into the bar on a motorcycle, strip in your bulky leg cast, recite spoken word poetry, or do naked cartwheels in a werewolf mask if you want to, and guaranteed a crowd is going to dig it. VICE caught up with Abby, Lex and a few winners to ask what keeps them coming back.

Photo by Jackie Dives

VICE: Can you tell me about the early days?
Benny Israel: On the very first night I go down there, and 's looking a bit panicked. She's got like three people signed up and it's supposed to start in 20 minutes. I didn't want to see them crash and burn on the first night. So I skateboarded home, borrowed my roommate's pink hard hat, got a T-shirt I didn't care about, and listened to this one song 100 times on my iPod. I shotgunned a couple beers on the way back and got myself psyched up to strip... It was terrifying and kind of exhilarating. I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't see what the crowd was doing. Since I'd been gone several people had shown up so there was actual competition—not just two people. I think I placed after stripping to Judas Priest's "Turbo Lover."

Abby: He used flint to make his dick give off sparks. That was his final move.

Awesome. Did you get a prize?
Benny: I don't think that had a cash prize for third. I won a vibrator and some candy.

That gives you a taste for victory, at least.
Benny: Yeah it was something. I'd never won anything before, except tickets to see Sunset Boulevard in 1995.

Photo by Jackie Dives

What's your approach to the Rent Cheque stage?
Benny: You really want to get your crowd going, so you pick an exciting song, not necessarily one you like. Something people can get on board with. I tear my T-shirt right off my body. It's like the only thing I'm really good at in life. I can do that like a pro.

CJ MacDonald: I'm terrible at picking costumes, I can't do routines. My thing is I close my eyes, feel the moment and let it go. Once I danced to Fleetwood Mac's "Caroline." I had a broken foot so I had one of those big awkward air casts. I was just stumbling around the stage, in vibrating panties, just enjoying the vibrations on the stage. Usually the whole time I have my eyes closed so I'm not even sure if I'm facing the crowd properly. But the moment you open your eyes and the song is done you feel all these emotions and you're standing naked in front of a bar of people. There's nothing like it.

Benny: It kind of makes me feel special. That sounds ridiculous but I feel really special and loved when I go up there. After I'm done performing, I'm standing naked on a stage and can just hear people yelling my name, chanting Benny, Benny, Benny—I use my real name because I tried having a stripper name and it didn't go so well.

What was your first stripper name?
Benny: Benadryl. The first time I went on stage the announcer was like... Could we get... Drill... to the stage?

Do you feel like you're up against tough competition?
CJ: Actually the few times I've danced I don't even know who won. It would be nice to get called, but I think I just get too distracted with dancing and hugs and running around. By the time they call out the names I'm not even paying attention.

Photo by Jackie Dives

Has Rent Cheque ever helped pay your rent?
Benny: Oh man, yeah. The first time I came in first place I was flat broke. I just danced so hard, like my life depended on it. And then next thing I know, I think it was four or five hundred bucks in my pocket. It was like a giant weight was lifted. The last time I won it was New Years 2015. I didn't mean to strip that night, but the $750 ended up covering all but $40 bucks of my rent. I went home and put the stack of bills right next to my sweetheart, when she woke up this stack of bills was right beside her head. I think the people who do Rent Cheque for the most part want to have fun, but a lot of them could really use the money.

Abby: In no way has Rent Cheque ever or will ever pay my bills. It really is an endeavour of the heart, and I feel like that's what keeps us honest. We try to give back to the community, we specifically give portions of our proceeds to the Wish drop-in centre. There's a lot of older feminists that are still under the impression that it's an event run by men that gives women on the Downtown Eastside money for shaking their tits kind of thing. It really sucks. We're just a bunch of people 19 to 30 and beyond who just want to fuck around and figure it out.

Interviews have been edited for clarity and length.

Follow Sarah Berman on Twitter.

For this week's First-Person Shooter, we handed off two cameras to Citizen Saint, a self-described real-life superhero—a.k.a. a "First Response neighborhood watchman"—who patrols the streets of Missouri in costume, looking to help fellow citizens who may be in distress. As a member of the national organization The Community Superheroes, Citizen Saint's identity is kept a secret. His equipment list includes bandaids, gauze, blood stop, tape, and emergency blankets for the homeless. We talked to him about what it means to be an IRL superhero after he sent us the photos he took during a day in his super life.

VICE: What do you do, exactly? What are your goals?
Citizen Saint: Great question. The mission has expanded over time. I'm certainly not the person/hero I was when I started. I walk through neighborhoods and I wave to folks. I stop and talk to anyone who will talk to me, and I spread the message. And that message is this: We are all one humanity. We're all one community—we bleed the same, we love the same, we hate, we work, we pay, we need. Instead of focusing on how different we are, we need to focus on how similar we are, and simply accept and respect what differences we have.

Do you carry any utilities or weapons?
I have weapons to defend myself or to defend others who I might find being attacked, but that would be an incredibly rare occurrence. My packs are stuffed with bandaids, gauze, blood stop, tape, alcohol wipes, and other medical items. I also carry water and emergency blankets for the homeless. I patch up people—kids who fell off their bikes, or the man who cut himself doing his lawn who you see in the photos. I view myself as a hero who serves by helping others, not by hurting.

How long have you been doing this?
I began back in November, but a lot of that was scouting and getting the layout of areas where I wanted to have a presence. In January, I began wearing the suit on patrols, and in February, I put neighborhood watch fliers on homes in the neighborhood. What's scary is that nobody saw a man in a shiny outfit until July!

What's the weirdest thing that's happened to you while on patrol?
I had a man become very agitated when I was talking to his family. He was highly distrustful and called me several names until his kids and wife explained who I was. Even then, he was still very angry, but at the world, not at me.

Turns out, he had been branded a sex offender when he was 17 after having consensual sex with his 16-year-old girlfriend. That mistake had haunted him his whole life, and he has received harassment from news media and from neighbors who don't see past the sex offender label. We talked for an hour or so, and I told him about advocacy groups he can appeal to to have his name cleared. We parted as neighbors, but it was certainly not something I was expecting!

Can you tell me about your costume?
The base layer comes from Jeffrey Scott, a designer in Chicago who makes lifting and cycling gear for men. The mask was custom ordered from a mask maker. The boots are muck chore boots and the armor is police riot gear purchased from suppliers online. I have a stun baton, like you would see in a sci-fi movie, and an extendable, metal police baton. I also carry mace, and have a body cam, as well. I'm always open to suggestions for other cool gear!

Do you go out with other superheroes?
So far, I patrol alone. If others want to join me, I'd welcome the company! I am a member of a national organization called "Community Superheroes." We have members all over America.

Why do you keep your identity secret?
I keep my identity secret, as all superheroes should. I have a life outside of this, and I need to be able to enjoy my privacy. I am not doing this to become famous.

Do you have a bat signal that people can use to contact you?
You can check out my Facebook page here and email me at citizensainthero@gmail.com. I do my best to answer all messages.

Follow Julian on Instagram and visit his website to see his own photo work.

Photo via Getty/Hindustan Times

On Tuesday , Irom "Mengoubi" Chanu Sharmila of Manipur in northeast India ended her nearly 16-year hunger strike by licking a smudge of honey off of her hand. The 44-year-old began her strike 5,757 days prior, following the November 2000 Malom Massacre , wherein men from the Assam Rifles paramilitary force killed ten civilians at a bus stop near the regional capital of Imphal and faced no consequences. Sharmila aimed to force the repeal of the Armed Forces Special Powers Act , which grants armed forces legal impunity and broad authority to violate civil rights in the name of "security." The AFSPA still stands in India, but Sharmila's fortitude earned her a 2005 Nobel peace prize nomination and a moniker: The Iron Lady of Manipur.

In the days since she called off her strike, most have focused on what comes next for Sharmila, who spent most of the last 16 years relatively isolated in police custody at Imphal's Jawaharlal Nehru Hospital—ironically, named after the Prime Minister whose government passed the AFSPA. Despite India's tradition of hunger strike activism , authorities labeled Sharmila's a possible illegal suicide attempt and forced her to reaffirm her strike periodically to re-arrest her on new charges, circumventing a law against holding a prisoner before trial for over a year.

Sharmila was released on $149 bail when she announced the end of her strike, and since then there's been little information explaining how she managed to survive such a long hunger strike, as well as what effects the strike could have on her long-term health; she was turned away from an ashram where she wanted to live post-strike because of their concern that they couldn't offer her proper medical care.

While no food or drink passed her lips over the course of 16 years, Sharmila's survival still depended on sustenance. On November 11, 2000 —six days into her strike—she collapsed and was put on a saline drip. Ten days later, she was affixed with a Ryles tube used to funnel a boiled slurry of rice, lentils, and vegetables—fortified with vitamins, minerals, and medicine—through her nose and directly into her stomach. When Sharmila would periodically rip the tube out, she was put on an intravenous glucose drip until doctors convinced her to accept the Ryles tube again. The exact composition of her diet shifted constantly, as a medical team monitored her vitals and adjusted their dosages to keep her gastrointestinal health fair, and her weight steady at around 112 pounds.

Sharmila and her family credit her survival to this regimen—as well as yoga, which she picked up two years before her strike. Medical staff have claimed that she walked outside her eight-by-twelve-foot room and practiced yoga quite skillfully for four hours a day. Doctors continue to debate the ethics of force-feeding prisoners of conscience on a hunger strike, but based on official media accounts, it's likely that Sharmila's hunger strike wouldn't have been disastrous to her physical health.

According to Marshall McCue, a St. Mary's University-Texas professor of biology and author of 2012's Comparative Physiology of Fasting, Starvation, and Food Limitation , Sharmila's Ryles tube diet would've maintained her core health and nutrition. Yes, a glucose drip would've had a negative impact on the health-bestowing bacteria residing in her digestive tract—also known as the microbiome—and it would've also decreased her ability to absorb nutrients through traditional digestion after the strike ended.

But McCue told VICE that careful readjustment to the Ryles tube after a few days on the drip wouldn't result in lasting negative effects, adding that a nasal tube was a more humane choice than forced oral feeding. If her weight did indeed hold steady, then she was likely in decent health. "This duration of chronic feed is remarkable," McCue said, noting that "It would've been possible to continue this virtually indefinitely with minimal issues."

One of Irom's doctors, when quoted in a recent (and seemingly critical) Hindustan Times article, took McCue's assertions a step further by arguing that Sharmila was "getting the healthiest and most balanced of diets that even the richest Indian probably getting" while on the Ryles tube. The article also pointed out that the state, which suffers chronic food shortages and a rising poverty rate , spent at least $150 a month making sure she was consistently fed. While this sounds like a bitter screed, McCue—in measured, diplomatic terms—ultimately agreed that Sharmila likely received a better balanced, if lower-calorie, diet than many in India or the West.

As long as the tube was correctly inserted, the biggest health concerns Sharmila likely faces now are atrophy in her jaw muscles—which will fatigue rapidly from chewing until they build back up—and damage to her nasal cartilage from holding up the tube, which also increases her long-term risk of upper respiratory infections. He also notes that since her stomach muscles weren't working hard to digest her diet, she'll have to work to digest harder and more varied foods over the coming weeks. Sharmila will likely also have to stay near medical resources in case of any unexpected complications.

It's unclear whether Sharmila will have access to a support system in the recovery process. Although the end of her strike came exactly one month after the Indian Supreme Court struck down absolute legal impunity for armed forces under the AFSPA—triggered in part by cases from Manipur—many of Sharmila's former supporters have criticized her decision to return to normal life before the Act was struck down entirely. This criticism has been amplified by concerns that a seven-year romantic relationship led her to abandon her principles for personal desire—with activists attacking her purported paramour outside the Imphal courthouse in 2014—as well as the sudden and unexpected announcement of the hunger strike's cessation and the widespread belief that her entry into "dirty" politics will ultimately harm Manipur's cause.

As a result, Sharmila's been denounced by a number of local groups , one of which ominously noted in a recent statement that activists who enter politics are often assassinated. Her mother's absence on Tuesday has raised concerns she may be facing estrangement from her family as well. Ultimately, this ill will led locals to turn her away from a neighborhood in Imphal and forced her to seek shelter at the local police station on her first night of freedom.

Some have speculated that Sharmila may now be forced into short-term exile elsewhere in India, but while she still has strong support as a civil rights icon elsewhere in the nation, one can only speculate how this immediate rejection after years of partial isolation and police custody will weigh on Irom's mental health, as well as how that might interact with her broader recovery efforts.

But no one knows Irom's mental and physical wellbeing and tolerance as well as she does, and at the very least, her former supporters might consider cutting her a little slack. It would be a cruel irony if Irom's mental or physical health deterioriated after a 16-year force-feeding regimen, thanks to a new regimen of isolation administered by her old allies.

Colten Boushie photo via Facebook

A 22-year-old First Nations man was shot dead on a Saskatchewan farm on August 9, and farm owner Gerald Stanley has been charged with second degree murder. Now a First Nation group has called out the RCMP's response to Colten Boushie's killing for stirring up "racial tensions."

The Federation of Sovereign Indian Nations released a statement condemning the RCMP's choice of words in a next-day press release. The statement said three passengers in Boushie's car were taken into custody "as part of a related theft investigation," adding another male youth "is being sought." The federation says allegations that Boushie and his friends were attempting to steal from the farm played into racist attitudes.

"It fueled a lot of hate from people who have racist tendencies anyways. That's what it served to do," said vice chief Kimberly Jonathan. Chief Bobby Cameron added the release "provided just enough prejudicial information for the average reader to draw their own conclusions that the shooting was somehow justified."

The RCMP held a press conference in response to the FSIN.

"It is deeply concerning to us as the provincial police service to hear one of our media releases categorized as biased and not in line with the relationship with the FSIN and all the communities we serve," said superintendent Rob Cameron of the RCMP.

Jonathan said the alleged theft was played up in media reports. "There's a young man dead. It doesn't matter if you're Indigenous or non-Indigenous, whatever. There's a person dead and you're talking about the theft? And that's what the media picked up on—the theft."

Boushie's family said he was shot in the head while his girlfriend, uncle and friends were in the car. His uncle Alvin Baptiste Sr. told CBC they approached the farm to ask for help with a tire.

Image via Facebook

A Facebook page for local farmers has drawn comments defending Stanley's actions. "His only mistake was leaving three witnesses," reads one. "He should have shot all 5 and been given a medal," says another.

The Indigenous community is outraged over these and other posts they consider racist and people are asking for groups like the Saskatchewan Farmer's Group to be removed from Facebook because of these comments.

The RCMP told the press they take these comments on social media seriously.

"Over the past few days there have been comments made on social media that are both concerning and could be criminal in nature," Cameron said. "It's understandable that during a situation like this, emotions run high but it's important to let the court process run its course. Therefore I ask everybody to remain respectful in their online communications."

RCMP say they will be meeting with the FSIN to address the issues raised and come to a better solution so that something like this doesn't happen in the future.

Colten Boushie's funeral is scheduled to happen today on Red Pheasant First Nation in Saskatchewan.

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Fabric. Photo via Wiki

This post originally appeared on VICE UK.

Fabric is closing its doors this weekend after two deaths at the London nightclub in the last nine weeks. A media representative for the Metropolitan Police confirmed to THUMP that emergency services were called to the venue at around 2:03 AM on Saturday June 25 when an 18-year-old man collapsed. He died in the hospital shortly after. Another 18-year-old male died on the morning of Saturday, August 6 after "becoming unwell" outside the venue. While no official cause of death has been announced by the authorities, Fabric indicated in a Facebook post that both deaths were drug-related. Pending an official police investigation, the club has decided to temporarily shut down.

This, of course, follows 2014, a year in which authorities called for a review of the venue's license after eight people collapsed there due to drug use over three years, with four of those people dying. Although the club managed to keep its license, they had to heighten security with ID scans, stricter searches, and drug-sniffing dogs. In 2015 they won an appeal against Islington Council, based on the huge expense of such measures.

Fabric isn't alone in these deaths. By September of 2015, MDMA-related deaths had reached an all-time high in the UK. A report by the Office of National Statistics showed that deaths had increased from eight in 2013 to 50 in 2014. In June this year, 16-year-old Sky Nicol died after taking five times the fatal level of MDMA. The same month, 22-year-old Stephanie Shevlin died after taking MDMA at The Box nightclub in Crewe. Later the same month, 17-year-old Emily Lyon died after taking MDMA at Red Bull Culture Clash at the O2. These tragic cases are just a few of many.

So why is this happening? MDMA use is up, but that shouldn't necessarily mean more people are dying or becoming seriously ill after taking it. Fiona Measham, professor of criminology at Durham University, told The Guardian in 2015 that the average strength of an MDMA pill—ecstasy—in 2014 was 100mg, much stronger than the average of 20-30mg in 2009. Strength and, sadly, casualties, have all risen in unison.

So-called "super pills" are also on the rise in Europe, with some reportedly containing an inconceivable 270-340 mg. According to a report by the European Monitoring Centre for Drugs in May, "Some recently produced batches of MDMA tablets contained discernible crystals, apparently as a strategy to increase user trust." As we recently reported, the aggressive increase in potency could be an attempt by European drug manufacturers to set their ecstasy apart from the often-heavily cut MDMA powder.

Some MDMA and pills. Photo: Michael Segalov

Frequently, with these recent deaths, the pills haven't even contained MDMA. In May, a 17-year-old girl died in Manchester after taking a "Mastercard" "ecstasy pill." However, the active component wasn't MDMA, but PMA, a substance that gives users none of the euphoria associated with MDMA—acting more as a kind of anti-depressant—and is highly toxic. It becomes especially dangerous when taken with other drugs, such as coke and actual MDMA.

Most dealers aren't going to tell clients what's in their pills, but there's much to be said about the lack of education and information available to potential users from other sources. The grieving parents of two sons from the Isle of Man who both died of ecstasy overdoses in November of 2014 have started campaigning for legalization and regulation of currently illegal drugs. "The only thing that would have saved my boys was to have a safer system so they knew what they were taking," said the father, Ray Lakeman. "We insist on the safety and control of alcohol, tobacco, even sugar—so why not with drugs?"

More seasoned drug takers might be better equipped to deal with the changes—knowing to always take a half or even a quarter, rather than a full pill, first—but first-time users, as many of these recent deaths have been, are essentially using guess work. This needs to be addressed.

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This story appeared in the August issue of VICE magazine. Click HERE to subscribe.

Australian photographer Gina Nero has traveled extensively throughout the United States, carefully documenting the people she has met and the places she has seen, from the grit of Gowanus and Baton Rouge to the confectionery pastels of Sunset Boulevard. Now based in Cuba, she has turned the same critical eye toward Cuban society, capturing a way of life that will soon be changed irrevocably.

This week on Tea Time with T. Kid, I chatted with Michael Zaystev, one of America's many newly-minted cannabis entrepreneurs. But he's not growing, selling, or extracting weed. Rather, Mike's weed business is the business of weed, and he helps push the legal cannabis industry along by organizing cannabis-minded folks in New York City through an organization he founded called High NY. He also wrote a book called The Entrepreneurs Guide to Cannabis that is exactly what it sounds like: An orientation on the ins and outs of a long black market industry that is now emerging above board (regardless of how slowly the DEA adapts to it ).

My friend Skeletor also joined us and brought with him some lovely flowers and raw vegan edibles that we went to town on. As always, we talked about weed, as well as making friends on acid, why edibles sit better with some people than others, and the groups of street-dwelling New Yorkers who do drugs in parks.

Top illustration by Heather Benjamin.

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Some stories are too insane not to be told, especially if someone bribed you not to tell it. On the finale of our VICELAND show Party Legends, comedian Sean Patton shares his cautionary tale about the time he left a rough gig in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, made a crack-smoking new friend, watched some really weird fireworks, and walked away with $500.

Photo via Lil Wayne HQ

If rapping is that which he was born to do, skateboarding is what Lil Wayne has worked damn hard to get good at.

Since he first began touting a board five years ago at the age of 29, Lil Wayne has purchased a skate park of his own and ramps that he can fit with him in the recording booth, launched a skateware line called Trukfit, inked the logos of other elite brands onto his face, taken spills, and improved immensely. But perhaps most impressively, he's stuck with it.

Now he's preparing to rededicated himself to the sport with the initiation of a sort of unofficial Young Money skate team, which he announced with the release of a smartphone game, eponymously titled SQVAD Up, earlier this summer. The squad's starting lineup (all represented via unlockable characters in the game) includes Tyreek "TJ" Morrison, Yosef "YoYo" Ratleff, Andre Colbert, Jereme Knibbs, and Edgar Benitez—none yet household names, but skaters all carefully considered by Lil Wayne himself.

"I think he tested us all out and he feels comfortable around us," explained Jeremy Knibbs over the phone while enjoying a moment of downtime during a skate trip he was attending for Nike SB in Chicago.

Now 24-years-old, Knibbs first met Lil Wayne in 2013. He was working at The Boardr in Tampa when the well-known skate shop got a call seeking someone to skate back-up (like a dancer ) for Wayne on his worldwide America's Most Wanted Tour. "I had the time to go and do that," he recalled. "The next day I was on a flight to Alabama, and then I didn't go home for about four months."

For Knibbs, who still skates with Boardr and counts Bones Wheels, Santa Cruz Skateboards, Nike SB, and Rockstar Energy Drink among his sponsors, the benefits of being part of SQVAD Up extend beyond the board. "Being around Wayne is a plus because Wayne and his whole crew are very, very smart people, so I get to learn a lot about life and business and how to handle everything," he said, noting that Wayne recently sent him home with a reading list after hearing he had an interest in psychology. (He's since checked off one title, Thinking Fast and Slow.) "I think he sees something in us that he wants to bring out. He wants to further our skateboarding and also just help us with whatever we want to do in our life, build us up to be bigger than what we are."

Being a fan of high fashion, Tyreek "TJ" Morrison, a 22-year-old who learned how to skate while growing up across the street from Lil Wayne's baby momma Toya Wright's house in Atlanta and now describes himself as being "just around the corner" from going pro, also appreciates SQVAD Up's investment in individuality. "I don't really see eye-to-eye with a lot of skate brands, because a lot of it is cliche as hell to me—same graphics, same politics. I like different stuff, and I feel like this SQVAD Up stuff is super different," he said, speaking from the Atlanta home he recently purchased for himself and his brother. "It's cool if you go cash out on some sneakers. It's cool if you wear Raf Simmons when you're not skating. Sometimes I get looked at by other skaters, like, 'Why are you wearing them shits? Those aren't Vans.' This is a lifestyle, I like living off the board as well."

Which is also to say: the payday that comes with being on a major label rapper's team ain't bad either. Even though he first got into skating after watching a dude in a fresh outfit fall off his board and still "look fleek," Morrison isn't too humble to admit that "flying in private jets is fly as hell too."

"I'm super core at skating, but like, I want to experience that type of stuff also."

When we're at the skatepark, we're all little kids again. We're all falling together, we're all learning tricks together; it probably feels more normal .

For now, the SQVAD Up skaters are paid by Young Money for the time they spend on tour and otherwise bankrolled by the companies behind collaborations like the smartphone game. However, both Knibbs and Morrison confirmed with VICE that Wayne's management team is currently at work ironing out a more formal deal to keep the skaters around. " 'What the fuck? He's really taking this shit seriously and now we got all y'all little niggas,'" laughed Morrison.

Logistically, "we're a liability," he added, ticking off just a few of the ways: "Us skating on the tour. Us dipping from the hotel to skate and almost getting locked up. Us bringing chicks back to hotels and shit."

But for Lil Wayne himself, it seems that the SQVAD is less a nuisance than a sort of sanctuary from the rap game, which he's teetered at the top of since he was a Hot Boy.

"He's probably used to being around rappers, people trying to do songs and stuff," Knibbs offered. "But when we're at the skatepark, we're all little kids again. We're all falling together, we're all learning tricks together; it probably feels more normal. It's something he can learn, and it's probably a new type of reward feeling when he lands a new trick compared to when he figures out a new verse for a song."

And there is a lot for Wayne to learn if he wants to be able to keep up with his new teammates—but he's getting there. "He had some tricks , but he's definitely gotten better over the years," Morrison said. "He definitely could already ollie and drop in, he had a few tricks when I first met him, but now he has a variety of tricks where he can go to any skate park and find something to skate."

The young skater added, "He try to be cocky, but he got to understand: we all good as hell. He's like the bottom of the totem pole when he's skating with us. he's the kind of person who will go to a session and be like, 'I'm going to try this.' And it will be the hardest shit where it's like, 'Dog, you sure you want to try that?' He will not stop until he gets that."

Which is not to suggest that skating is a replacement—or distraction, even—from music for Wayne. He may join the SQVAD for sessions before and after shows, but all combined, Morrison assured me that Wayne still spends more time behind the mic than he does on a board.

"He's a libra, their thing is balance, and he's nice with it," he said. "People need to understand that Lil Wayne is also a skateboarder now. This is something that he does. He likes skating, but he's still Lil Wayne—Tha Carter V is coming, he has some heat."

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DABS in action. All photos by the author.

Ask pretty much anyone about graffiti in Taiwan and they'll you that DABS YIA is the person to talk to, a founder of the expat graffiti scene who still remains active. DABS, a wiry guy who manages to come across as both laid-back and hyperactive at the same time, originally came to Taipei from Canada to teach English around 2001. At the time, he told me, there were a few artists painting walls in parks and under bridges, but there were "no tags or throw-ups on the streets. I was testing the waters to see how far I could go. I was still doing tracksides and mural spots, low-key abandoned spots. Around 2002, 2003 onwards I was doing a lot of street stuff."

DABS was the tip of the spear when it came to graffiti in Taipei. Starting in 2004, a growing number of writers writers associated with the Bay Area graff scene came to visit or live in Taipei, among them CHEK, UDON, OPTIMIST, and NOE, the latter who was originally from Taiwan, but grew up in California and returned for good in 2008. Their graffiti was rooted in classic Bay Area influences, with solid handstyles, stylish throw-ups, and the occasional giant block letters painted with rollers and house paint.

DABS in action

NOE's throw-up, consisting of a diminutive "O" nestled between a bulging "N" and "O," is built for speed. He claims that he can paint a full throw-up on the street in as little as 90 seconds, allowing him to get highly visible spots in Taipei and on his travels around Asia while reducing the risk of getting caught. "I feel thankful for all the foreigners that stomped the Taiwan ground first," NOE said. "DABS and CHEK brought the right mindset of how to do a throw-up, how to execute the letters."

At the time, it was almost comically easy to be a graffiti writer in the capital city. "Taipei had a golden time when you could just roll up and people would not actually understand what graffiti is," DABS told me. "They think you must be paid to do this, so it's OK. People were coming and giving us tea and cookies and stuff."

Even the cops treated the writers fairly leniently. NOE remembered one writer named BOBO who "always talked to the police" when caught painting. "He'd be like, 'Just go home. Take a shower, come back, and it'll be finished and prettier than it is right now.'" For a while they got away with it, especially when they painted more colorful productions.

DABS in action

"But then in '07," DABS said, "there was a big influx of traveling graffiti writers, so the city started seeing a lot more street quality control," according to DABS. NOE feels that the Taiwanese scene is ready to make its mark and develop a style and reputation of its own. "We Taiwanese, we have pride," he said. "We want to come and show you guys what we got. To show you guys that this is Taiwan!"

DABS agreed. There's a sense of achievement in the scene—it's no longer, as he explained it, "just a bunch of foreigners coming here and killing it. HOWA, NOE, and SAYM are putting in work and getting props" for it. "Nowadays," DABS said, "the kids out here are more in tune with the old, classic graff ethos. Racking, being out at night, catching spots, climbing, putting more risk into it."

The graff scene in Taiwan, NOE told me, is getting "bigger, better, and worse. Depends on which angle you look at it. But it's definitely going forward.... It's still in the baby stage right now. But it's finally starting to grow."

See more photos from Ray's visit to Taipei below.

Ray Mock is the founder of Carnage NYC and has been documenting graffiti in New York and around the world for ten years, publishing more than two dozen limited edition zines and books. Follow him on Instagram.

Yes mate, absolutely just go for it. Photo by Jake Lewis.

This article originally appeared on VICE UK

For years, single people have been painted as failures. Hollywood has managed to make three Bridget Jones films on that loose premise alone. But as it turns out, most research on single people is carried out through the lens of marriage, which isn't exactly the best way to draw accurate conclusions on single life. Basically, being forever alone may not be so awful after all.

Frustrated by the gaps in research on how fulfilling life without a partner can be, psychologist and author of Singled Out, Dr. Bella DePaulo, decided to investigate singledom about a decade ago. Her latest work suggests embracing solitude can leave us open to more psychological growth and development than married people, who are actually more likely to become insular and withdrawn than their single counterparts.

I tracked down Dr. DePaulo, who's also a researcher and professor at the University of California, Santa Barbara, to speak about society's obsession with marriage, and what we should be doing to stop thinking about loneliness as something without potential benefits.

VICE: Why are we so afraid of being lonely?
Dr Bella DePaulo: The idea that everyone wants to get married seems to be an organizing concept of society. If people get married they think they'll be happier, healthier, live longer. So, if you get married you feel like you've done the right thing, and that just by finding this one person all the pieces of your life have fallen into place. And if you buy into this way of thinking, seeing single people is threatening, especially if you see people enjoying single life. This becomes a direct threat—or challenge—to your own assumption that getting married is the only path to real happiness.

That's weird, because so often being single seems to invite pity.
We're afraid of being single because single life is stereotyped and stigmatized in society; people think that if you're single, there must be something wrong with you, and no one wants to feel that way about themselves. Because there isn't a positive, respectful space for single people, we stay in bad relationships longer. The irony is, less discrimination against single people would also be good for people who want to be coupled, because they could approach that desire from a position of strength—something they want, rather than running to coupling or staying in a bad relationship because they're afraid of being single.

What are the benefits of solitude?
There's so much research on loneliness—psychologists are really obsessed with it, and while loneliness can be painful and have negative effects, we miss out on the benefits of solitude when we focus only on the perils of loneliness. Single people—especially those who love living their single lives—really embrace their time alone. When they think about spending time alone, they savor the thought rather than worrying they might be lonely. And the research that's starting to be done on solitude is very encouraging—it suggests it's really good for creativity, restoration, personal growth, spirituality, and for relaxation.

What sorts of characteristics do you come across in people who embrace their single life?
Single people tend to experience more personal growth and contribute to society in meaningful ways. One of the stereotypes of single people is that they lead lives of unfettered pleasure-seeking, but in fact they do a lot of volunteering and a lot of the important work of caring.

People think that if you're single, there must be something wrong with you—and no one wants to feel that way about themselves

Another thing that distinguishes people who embrace the single life is that they're not so focused on The One being their everything. There's research showing that when people get married, they become more insular even if they don't have kids, because it's part of our marital mentality—that couples are supposed to be this tight unit who look mostly to each other. On the other hand, the people who are single are more connected to their friends, siblings, parents, neighbors, and co-workers.

Is there any way to stop this, or are married people doomed to disappear into themselves?
They just have to get over this idea that they're one inseparable unit, and feel more free to attend to the people and passions that are important to them.

What can people do to stop fears of loneliness obscuring the benefits of solitude?
Recognize the good things about spending time alone! If you aren't familiar with it, embrace it and see if you can find positivity in solitude, and start viewing time alone as an opportunity rather than a threat.

Why is research on single people so lacking?
We haven't caught up with the ways things are changing; in the United States, the proportion of people 25 and older who'd never married by 2012 had more than doubled since 1960. People spend more years of their adult lives unmarried, so it makes no sense at all to continue focusing almost exclusively on married people. What really shocked me when I first started studying all this more than a decade ago was that all the claims of huge benefits—health, long life, happiness are either grossly exaggerated, or plain wrong.

What's the next step for this research and your work?
We really need to take the lives of single people seriously, and to try and understand what makes their lives meaningful rather than trying to view single people through the lens of marriage. In terms of my own work, I want to learn more about people who are single at heart; the people for whom living single is the way they live their best, most authentic, most fulfilled and meaningful life. That means living your life fully, pursuing the passions that you care about most, and deciding for yourself who the important people in your life are, rather than saying it's all going to be about one person. It's about embracing your solitude if that's important to you, but it's really about creating your own script for your own life.

Thanks, Dr DePaulo.

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My life as a purple-skinned wayfarer. Photos via the author

Some things carry such emotional weight, you have to choose between holding on to them forever or quitting for good. In World Of Warcraft you call these Soulbound items—objects that once you equip them, they bind to you for life. Throw them away or keep it forever. There are no other choices. WoW is one of those Soulbound things. It's a truly one of a kind experience that ex-players either cherish or reject. My relationship to the game was toxic but I gotta embrace it because it made me who I am today.

With World of Warcraft: Legion arriving this month I briefly flirted with the idea of jumping back in. I combated the urge by listening to the soundtrack and filling a journal of old memories from the game—compiling inspiration for a fantasy comic. After a few long nights reliving my digital glory days the allure of logging in became dangerously enticing. My gaming experiences as of late, have left me longing for a more immersive experience. Without a PS4 No Man's Sky was out of my reach, so it looked like WoW was back on the menu. Then, I remembered why I stopped playing.

I was addicted. World Of Warcraft gave me so much in the way of experiences, interpersonal skills, and self confidence that I couldn't put it down. I was a champion online but in reality I had stopped showering, eating right, and was consumed by self-loathing. I played 13 hours every day without putting on pants. I've been a mouth breather my whole life, so you can imagine the image. Before long I walked into a toxic in-game relationship that embodied my damaging addiction to the game. (It also partially existed in reality, I promise.)

We worked together. Her name was Rho*, she was older than me. We started dating almost immediately. We celebrated our union by making new characters together in WoW. We spent a lot of nights hanging out on our computers three feet away from each other.

Read More: I Held a Group Therapy Session for Ex-'World of Warcraft' Players Traumatized from Seeing the 'Warcraft' Movie

Rho and I would roleplay as majestic beings known as the Draenei. I was Artoodee the hunter. A purple skinned wayfarer who liked to stay back and use his crossbow. He was nary seen without his loyal cat companion, Threepeeoh. Rho was a holy Paladin who used heavy weaponry and a divine ability to heal. She was relentless and definitely in touch with voices. Together they were an incredible team.

Rho and Zac were not. I was an overweight 20-year-old history major. A pale-skinned recluse who loved to lay down and eat Doritos. I was nary seen outside the house thanks to some pretty intense body image issues. Rho was a lifetime student and aspiring chem major. She was angry, impulsive, and I felt she manipulated me and other people.

We fell into things fast, spending our nights farming gurgling frogmen called Murlocs in Azuremyst Isle rather than going out with "real" people. It's as awesome as it sounds. Losing myself in the game was much easier when I had my girlfriend with me. The process was therapeutic in a way and helped me make friends. I was spending quality time socializing and was able to leave my imperfections behind. Online, I was the most idealized version of myself. I always felt empowered because I had a friend at my side.

Where the magic happened

During the years I was playing the game alone it was a sobering and lonely experience. I was left to wander the vast expanse of WoW without a friend on the server. Like real life, I avoided other people. With Rho I stepped outside my comfort zone. I began making real friendships and started to develop a leadership role. I began going after late-game excursions I could never tackle alone and the experience was eye opening. I felt empowered by my friendships. They allowed me to explore new experiences and do things I wouldn't have even considered in the real world and no I don't mean boning.

Rho and I weren't having sex in the game, but there was textual foreplay. She'd type, "I'm getting hot," and remove all of her character's armour. She'd dance in game clothed only in her underwear and that was a pretty clear sign we'd stop playing very soon. To me, this was a joke—at least that's how memory serves.

In the physical world, I was falling apart. Rho and I spent all our time together between work, school, and WoW. I didn't know how to tell her I wanted alone time, she terrified me. Part of this was my own insecurity and aversion to conflict. It culminated in nights in drinking four litres of Pepsi and eating several entire bags of Doritos. Don't get me wrong I still like to eat filth, but I've come to enjoy having solid poops and would rather not wear D-pants for the rest of my life.

After a month of dating she asked me to move in with her. I said no. I was afraid and had trust issues. We were already spending an unhealthy amount of time together. Our ideas about the relationship were starting to drift apart. I'd dodge this issue by pushing junk food and lazy nights in. It was all a deceptive performance to keep her comfortable and occupied.

As my physical body deteriorated, my digital body thrived. I'd spend my days running over plains of purple grass chasing monsters for scales, swimming to the depths of green oceans, hiking into mysterious caves and fighting beasts beyond imagination. Picture me in my underwear doing these things to Bon Jovi. It was pretty damn majestic.

My friends started planning a Eurotrip—an idea I pitched before Rho and I met. They asked me if I was coming. I recoiled and poured myself into the game. I was too afraid to commit to leaving. I didn't want to let them down but Rho encouraged me to bail. She didn't want me to travel and I was too naive to see that I needed out. Walking away was more difficult by the day.

Shortly after this whole Eurotrip revelation, Wrath of The Lich King was released. The expansion added of new territories, quests, and items. My addiction reached critical mass. Rho and I led a group of 20-odd players into large combat scenarios called raids. We'd spend more time talking to these people than anyone in our real lives. I developed a sense of responsibility for these people. This feeling went on for months, and my addiction reached critical mass. My grades at school were ruined and prompted me to take a break from the game. I guess I really wanted that history degree (for some reason).

Rho pulled away and started playing without me. She would level up and intentionally play in areas I couldn't access. She spent time with other characters. I'd be sitting in Greek mythology class wondering if she was out with other players. I was plagued with insane and paranoid delusions that you get at peak breakup stages. Instead of coming home with another dude's cologne on her, she was logging in outfitted in armour I knew she couldn't afford.

I would obsess over this and feel compelled to log in and confront her. It's the type of insane behaviour that you come to regret—as close to stalking as I'll ever get. I'd jump online and open up my friend's list, track her location, and get to her as fast as possible. She'd whisper chat me the whole way, but I wanted to talk in character. We'd roleplay the whole thing, and I know that's sad but it wasn't a performance. She would place immense pressure on me to live like her and confront me in the real world to be more committed to our characters. I no longer felt good when I logged into the game. So I never logged back in again.

I left for Europe with my friends and faced pressure to call Rho every day of the trip. I didn't have a fixed itinerary so this proved almost impossible. Eventually I just stopped calling—I'd whether the shitstorm when I returned.

When I arrived back home, I had changed and had no desire to play WoW anymore. I promptly scheduled a "talk" with Rho. She didn't take it well and the conversation ended when she tried to punch me in the face. After a few weeks, she cooled off and accepted that I'd never return to the game or the relationship.

When I left my computer to travel the world, I hadn't socialized outside of WoW for at least a year. I was terrified when I left. Travelling requires you to rely on strangers and you can't be stubborn. Kindness and teamwork get you a lot further on the road. I noticed I wasn't a weak-willed social recluse who rarely wanted to leave the house anymore, because that's not who I was in the game. I overcame my fear by using my in-game confidence and leadership. As for the toxicity, I left that behind with Rho.

Losing myself to the game fostered real physical and emotional growth. It gave me the power to leave my shitty relationship, travel the world, and develop a healthy understanding of myself that I still hold today.

Follow Zac Thompson on Twitter.

*Name has been changed to protect privacy.

This article originally appeared on VICE UK

You've probably never heard of Seaton Carew. Its beaches, on the edge of a small town in Hartlepool, England were an 18th century hot spot for wealthy Quakers who adopted the seaside town as a holiday resort. "Seaton? It's just an old holiday home. Forget that place," Adam, a local at a pub in Hartlepool, told me.

As someone who hasn't spent most of their time reading about old seaside resort towns, I'd most recently read about Hartlepool in the context of its vociferous vote in favor of leaving the EU, in June's referendum. As was typed out with a certain smugness by journalists in the wake of the referendum result, a net inflow of less than 200 migrants landed in Seaton Carew's borough from 2014 to 2015, but an immigration-led campaign led to a Leave vote at 69 percent.

Walking through Seaton in July, it's easy to see that a) basically everyone is white, and b) it's a near-ghost town. The stretches of sand beaches are populated largely by elderly dog walkers, joggers, and families. Then I reached the place where carnivals come to die.

"It used to be busy before they moved the funfair," Keith, a local ice-cream van owner, with extraordinarily strong glasses and blue eyes told me. With not much else to go on, I went to a local hotel and bar where I met Brian, an 82-year-old Labour voter with a fresh pair of knees courtesy of a "very nice Thai doctor."

"Before they brought in the new sewage system it was busy. But they had to move the funfair and after that like, things started to slow down." I later learned from another a chap at the bar that previously the sewage was being dumped incrementally across the beach, but it was affecting the local marine life.

Having previously worked in manufacturing industry throughout the 60s and 80s, he explained it was busy at the ports and the manifold types of manufacturing. "We were making ships, making the engines for ships, machines to crush diamonds, and even crisps." During that time he had a family, bought his own home and continues to work, but throughout the 70 until the 90s when Thatcher was in "every six months, or thereabout, there were layoffs." Eventually the manufacturing industry dried up, and "they said to chase work down South."

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Photo via Flickr user Neeta Lind

Manitoba comedian Ryan McMahon suggested Mennonite gangsters might be on the loose in Canada earlier this week, and that was before thieves took off with millions of dollars worth of antlers and several thousand litres of maple syrup.

At 2 AM on Friday, Ontario Provincial Police responded to a call at a taxidermy shop in Caledon, Ontario, where $1.5 million worth of elk, moose and deer antlers went missing. Whoever needed 69 rustic wall hangings so desperately also boosted a pickup truck, two trailers, and two ATVs. (I guess that rules out the Mennonite theory). Then they abandoned the trailer 10 kilometres down the road and took off with the ATVs.

This would have been enough to set off a cascade of eyeroll-inducing "meanwhile in Canada" headlines, except that Quebec just had another maple syrup heist earlier this week. Thieves broke into a warehouse near Montreal's Trudeau airport and took a whole shipping container full of one-litre syrup bottles, according to the CBC. That's at a value of $150,000, which admittedly doesn't compare to the $18 million maple syrup heist that made international headlines back in 2012.

If you're wondering what criminal use a bunch of dried-out animal parts and sugar sap could possibly have, you're not alone. The same could be asked of a series of cucumber raids in Manitoba and several bee heists across Ontario and Quebec. Depending on your perspective, take it as a sign Canada's criminal element is diversifying, or that our basic agriculture infrastructure is ready for an apocalyptic crumble.

So far all suspects, antlers, hives etc. remain at large.

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The sort of thing we mean. (via)

Bad news for creeps, nerds, geeks, murderers and serrated blade enthusiasts up and down the country, as a ban on so-called 'zombie knives' is to be enforced later this week in England and Wales. Usually bought by knife enthusiasts who put them on wooden plaques and hang them on the wall until their wives tell them to take them down almost immediately after the last screw has been fastened in place, the weapons, which carry names like "head splitter", have been increasingly used in knife crimes. Recently, one was used in the murder of a teenager in north London.

"In weapons sweeps we've been finding these weapons on the street, hidden in places for use," Alf Hitchcock, lead on knife crime at the National Police Chiefs' Council, told the BBC. "When we've seen gang videos being uploaded on to the Internet they've been bragging about having these knives." Though most knife crime is still committed with boring old kitchen knives, the spike in zombie knives' presence among gangs seems to be what is pushing the ban.

I once asked my mum if I could buy a samurai sword, or katana, online when I was about 12. She said that if I saved up to buy it I could get it, but she wasn't going to get it for me. So I saved up and saved up, did little odd jobs here and there, helped my dad out with some stuff, cleaned cars, and eventually, through my hard graft and determination, I managed to scrape together the £40 it cost. If I remember correctly, it was one of the swords from ultraviolent Quentin Tarantino film double Kill Bill. So I said "mum, here's the £40, can you buy it for me now?" and you know what she said? She fucking said no. She wouldn't buy it even though she said she would. Liar. In an act of extreme petulance I told my friends to meet me at the fun fair on the nearby common, took my £40 and spunked it all on dodgems, hook-a-duck, house of mirrors, ghost trains and waltzers. It would be the single biggest waste of money in my life until I started doing drugs a few years later.

Kids: take it from me, don't bother with the knives and swords, they get boring after a bit. Go and spend it in an arcade instead. Shoot some pixelated zombies, punch that punching thing that tells you how punchy your punch is to relieve some aggression. You know it makes sense.

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