I led the conversation (having spent enough time with Mobeen, by now I had a pretty good idea of the kind of things he’d want me to discuss), with Mobeen or Jessica interrupting only occasionally to clarify things or have my mum repeat them in a more conversational context – she had a habit of talking ‘about’ me as opposed to ‘to’ me when on camera.
We went over some old childhood photos and I showed my mum my feature in Dirtyboyz magazine – the same one I’d shown to Paige a day earlier. She remarked that she thought they’d done a good job of putting the piece together and that most of the photos were actually quite tasteful.
“See, now that one of you in your bedroom’s nice,” she said.
That was before she realised that in the picture she was referring to I actually had my hand down my trackie bottoms and was feeling myself down there in a rather provocative way. I didn’t have the heart to mention it…
Once we were done filming with my mum, we headed outside. There was a tyre swing hanging from a tree, down by the greenery opposite our house where I used to play as a kid, and Mobeen felt really inspired to get some shots of it. I perched my bum on the edge of it (it had always seemed a whole lot roomier when I was 5 or 6), and did a short interview where I was asked questions mostly geared towards my childhood, and how life had had been for me growing up in the Welsh countryside.
After we were done with that little segment, I was free to roam around for the rest of the day. Freedom in this world, I’d discovered, is when you’re not wearing a microphone pack…
That evening though it was back to the cam room.
Jess was fascinated with the idea of my ‘Feti$h Casino’ – the dice game I play on occasion with my viewers, and she and Mobeen had asked if I’d be willing to host it that night on cam for them.
It was, again, a little tricky playing the game in such a small space, but I designated myself one hour and just got on with it. They’d asked to see a bit of showmanship from me, so I gave them what they wanted.
“Welcome to my fetish casino!” I announced grandly, “Who’s feeling lucky?”
Things felt much less awkward this time around, being filmed by the crew while I cammed. I hadn’t promoted my show half as much as I had the one that took place the night before, so my viewing figures were naturally a little lower, but I felt comfortable with that. I was more in control of my audience, and although I didn’t earn as much as the previous night – the equivalent of £40 or so I think by the end of it, once I was done there were no weird feelings of awkwardness. It was – for now, as they say in film and television, a wrap!
NINE – Cross country marathon!
Gazing over the filming schedule Jessica and I had devised together, Saturday 5th December was the date I was dreading the most, purely because of all the planning and travelling it involved. I had a photo shoot booked with professional fetish photographer Matt Spike the following day in Central London, where I’d be staying in a pre-booked Travel Lodge overnight. This meant I had to pack an overnight bag, as well as a suitcase full of fetish wear and accessories that he may or may not want to incorporate into the shoot. The plan was to be all packed and ready for 9.30am so that Jess, Mobeen and I could hit the road nice and early.
If it had just been a straightforward road trip to London I don’t think I’d have felt under quite so much pressure – despite my obvious anxieties about revisiting a city that had come so close to breaking me, but that wasn’t the plan…
Firstly we had to head to Bristol (that in itself a good hour’s drive from my family home), to a location that Jess and Mobeen had arranged in advance but that none of us had ever set foot in before – The Mud Dock café.
From there we had a table reserved for 11 where Steve would be joining us – filmed from the back as he’d had negotiated into his contract with them, and he and I would be ordering lunch whilst talking things over casually – or as casually as one can be when there’s a mic-set in your back pocket, a café filled with other customers looking on with curiosity, and a camera penetrating you throughout.
If I’d have been properly organised like I should have been and made sure I got a good nights sleep on Friday it might’ve taken some of the weight off my shoulders, but I was up until the early hours of Saturday still fretting over what to pack and what to wear. I worked myself into a right old frenzy with it all, and when my phone alarm went off at 8.30am, having only caught about four or five hours sleep at best, frankly I just wanted the ground to swallow me whole.
Jess and Mobeen arrived in the kitchen looking all bright eyed and bushy tailed at 9am, my mum having invited them in.
“Hey Joseph!” Mobeen said cheerfully.
“Looking forward to today?” Jess asked, all smiles.
“It’s gonna be great!”
‘Oh fuck off,’ I thought, pouring myself a strong cup of coffee.
I’d just gotten out of the shower by this point, hair still dripping wet – and was darting all around the house from one room to the next, watching the minutes race by (far too quickly for my liking!), chugging down my coffee like no tomorrow and puffing on Pall Mall cigarettes in a mass panic to be ready to leave with them on time.
When I finally emerged back downstairs – hair styled, bags packed, and all ready to go, my demeanour was a little less stony and it felt only right to apologise to Jess and Mobeen for largely ignoring the both of them. Luckily they’d had my mum to chat to so it wasn’t as if I’d just fucked off upstairs and left them alone, but “Sorry guys, I’m not a morning person” doesn’t quite cut it when it’s any later than 8. The rest of my family are all up between 6 and 7am for their jobs and they don’t make a big deal out of it the way I do.
“You’d never cut it in the real world,” my brother and dad have both said to me on separate occasions.
Though I object to their wording and consider camming as ‘real’ a job as any, I’m inclined to agree that an early rising 9 to 5 job would probably never work out well for me.
I said my farewells to my mum and loaded my luggage in to the boot of Mobeen’s car, which was already pretty full from the amount of bags they’d been travelling around with themselves – rucksacks full of cameras, tripods, battery packs, and a shitload of other heavy equipment, none of which I could identify by name if you’d asked me to.
I was still feeling drowsy by the time we made it to Bristol, and pulled up in to the car park, having arrived at The Mud Dock Café.
The café itself is situated above a mountain bike showroom with a view overlooking Bristol’s harbour through perfectly round porthole shaped windows, the kind you’d find on a ship. I’ll never forget how windy it was that morning as the three of us made our way inside.
There were a fair few customers already seated at the neighbouring tables. I sat self consciously at the ‘reserved’ table by myself, while Mobeen prepared for shooting the scene, and Jess had the café manager sign the release form that gave the BBC permission to use any footage taken on location there in the documentary.
We had about 15 minutes time to kill before Steve was set to arrive and the cameras would be rolling, so I ordered a cappuccino to sip on whilst I anxiously waited. I knew Steve well enough not to bail on me at the last minute, but I also knew how big of a deal this was for him agreeing to do, so I was particularly nervous for him in the build up to his arrival. I took a Valium to steady my own nerves, though it was he that probably could’ve done with it more than anyone.