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Game, set . . . and Scottish flag

Andy Murray may be wishing he’d never raised his nationality – but the worlds of tennis and politics

1 In 2008, the Williams sisters declared their enthusiasm for Barack Obama but surprisingly declined to vote for him. As Jehovah’s Witnesses, they insisted, they were barred from voting in any election. Serena explained: “I’m a Jehovah’s Witness, so I don’t get involved in politics. We stay neutral. We don’t vote. So I’m not going to necessarily go out and vote for him. I would if it wasn’t for my religion.” Jehovah’s Witnesses have consistently cited John 17:16, in which Jesus says of his followers: “They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world” as a call to refrain from such lowly matters as the governance of world superpowers.

2 If the British player Buster Mottram had had his way, Wimbledon would have been all-white in more than just dress code. A member of the National Front from 1975 onwards, he once remarked:“I hope Enoch Powell will never die, just as his namesake in the Bible never died.” Mottram subsequently attempted to redeem himself by performing with the black singer Kenny Lynch. But he was shamed again when he was expelled from the UK Independence Party (which David Cameron once described as a “bunch of . . . fruitcakes and loonies and closet racists”) for attempting to form an electoral alliance with the British National Party.

3 The German player Gottfried von Cramm had much to be nervous about ahead of his 1937 Davis Cup match against the American Don Budge, so it hardly seemed worth taking a phone call from Berlin minutes before he strolled out on to the Centre Court at Wimbledon. But as he swatted the phone away, von Cramm feared the unknown identity of the caller would distract him yet further. He turned back, to find Adolf Hitler on the line. Von Cramm was a noted anti-fascist, but after Hitler revealed his fantasies of a victory parade, he was forced to reply through gritted teeth: “Ja, mein Führer.” A pallid, trembling von Cramm emerged on court and lost the match by six sets to eight.

4 Alan Johnson soon came to regret applying tennis analogies to Gordon Brown halfway through last year’s Wimbledon. Speaking shortly after Brown’s first anniversary as Prime Minister, the then health secretary declared that Brown was not “interested in playing on the Centre Court of politics”. Johnson insisted that he’d meant the Prime Minister was “just interested in getting on with the job” – but couldn’t resist adding that Brown would “achieve the results and serve more aces than Andy Murray, whether it’s on the outer courts or whether it’s on the Centre Court”. Given Brown’s recent woes, one doubts that Murray has lost much sleep over the challenge posed by his fellow Scot.

5 Fred Perry, the last British player to win the men’s singles title at Wimbledon, is also the only one to have had a Labour MP for a father. A cotton spinner radicalised by the co-operative movement, Samuel Perry was elected the Co-operative Party’s first national secretary. In 1923 he became the Labour MP for Kettering. Perry fils was himself anti-establishment; Greg Rosen’s book Serving the People: a Co-operative Party History from Fred Perry to Gordon Brown unravels the red thread that links the two men.

6 Burdened by debts of £17.8m last year, Labour was forced to investigate novel means of fundraising, including auctioning off a game of tennis with Tony Blair. The offer helped the cash-strapped party secure at least £10,000 in new funding. Lord Levy, Blair’s usual tennis partner, expressed polite bemusement at the auction, declaring that “desperate times require desperate measures”.

7 Last year, the nine times Wimbledon women’s champion Martina Navratilova announced that she had regained Czech nationality more than 30 years after she fled a communist regime she compared favourably to that of her adopted country, the United States, under President George W Bush. Navratilova was born in Prague; she fled in 1975 after being denied the right to compete in professional tennis in the US, the scene of most serious tennis tournaments. She subsequently became a US citizen. The star, who supports charities devoted to children, animals and gay rights, told the Czech newspaper Lidové noviny: “The thing is that we elected Bush. That is worse. Against that, nobody chose a communist government in Czechoslovakia.”

8 In February, the United Arab Emirates caused controversy when it denied the female Israeli tennis star Shahar Peer a visa for the Dubai Tennis Championships. The world number 48 had been drawn to play the 15th seed, Anna Chakvetadze of Russia, in the first round of the event, which includes the world’s top ten women players. A month before the ban, Peer was the focal point of protests in New Zealand after Israel’s offensive in Gaza. The tournament organisers claimed that they feared public fury over Gaza would threaten Peer’s safety.

9 Tony Blair may have left office with the pay gap between men and women standing at 17.1 per cent, but when it came to Wimbledon he was a consummate redistributionist. Until 2007, the men’s champion was awarded £30,000 more in prize money than the women’s. The All England Club attempted to justify this disparity with reference to men’s best-of-five-set matches compared to women’s best-of-three, but the club finally caved in after Blair “fully endorsed” players’ demands for equal pay.

10 Is he a British champion? Or a Scottish loser? The question of Andy Murray’s national identity may be the source of innumerable jokes, but it is perhaps also a microcosm of the fraught relations between the two members of the Union. As the young star prepares to compete for Wimbledon glory, the bookmakers Paddy Power are holding a survey on whether the public – and especially the English – think Murray is British or Scottish. Speaking for Paddy Power, Darren Haines said: “Middle England has taken a while to warm to Andy but if he serves up a Wimbledon win, they’ll consider him as British as the Union Jack. An early exit, and they’ll consider him Scottish again. And who’s to say Scottish fans won’t vote to keep him for their own?” Here’s one sportsman carrying the weight of a 202-year-old political union on his 22-year-old shoulders.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 29 June 2009 issue of the New Statesman, The Great Escape

Biteback and James Wharton
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“It was the most traumatic chapter of my life”: ex-soldier James Wharton on his chemsex addiction

One of the British Army’s first openly gay soldiers reveals how he became trapped in a weekend world of drug and sex parties.

“Five days disappeared.” James Wharton, a 30-year-old former soldier, recalls returning to his flat in south London at 11pm on a Sunday night in early March. He hadn’t eaten or slept since Wednesday. In the five intervening days, he had visited numerous different apartments, checked in and out of a hotel room, partied with dozens of people, had sex, and smoked crystal meth “religiously”.

One man he met during this five-day blur had been doing the same for double the time. “He won’t have been exaggerating,” Wharton tells me now. “He looked like he’d been up for ten days.”

On Monday, Wharton went straight to his GP. He had suffered a “massive relapse” while recovering from his addiction to chemsex: group sex parties enhanced by drugs.

“Crystal meth lets you really dig in, to use an Army term”

I meet Wharton on a very different Monday morning six months after that lost long weekend. Sipping a flat white in a sleek café workspace in Holborn, he’s a stroll away from his office in the city, where he works as a PR. He left the Army in 2013 after ten years, having left school and home at 16.


Wharton left school at 16 to join the Army. Photo: Biteback

With his stubble, white t-shirt and tortoise shell glasses, he now looks like any other young media professional. But he’s surfacing from two years in the chemsex world, where he disappeared to every weekend – sometimes for 72 hours straight.

Back then, this time on a Monday would have been “like a double-decker bus smashing through” his life – and that’s if he made it into work at all. Sometimes he’d still be partying into the early hours of a Tuesday morning. The drugs allow your body to go without sleep. “Crystal meth lets you really dig in, to use an Army expression,” Wharton says, wryly.


Wharton now works as a PR in London. Photo: James Wharton

Mainly experienced by gay and bisexual men, chemsex commonly involves snorting the stimulant mephodrone, taking “shots” (the euphoric drug GBL mixed with a soft drink), and smoking the amphetamine crystal meth.

These drugs make you “HnH” (high and horny) – a shorthand on dating apps that facilitate the scene. Ironically, they also inhibit erections, so Viagra is added to the mix. No one, sighs Wharton, orgasms. He describes it as a soulless and mechanical process. “Can you imagine having sex with somebody and then catching them texting at the same time?”

“This is the real consequence of Section 28”

Approximately 3,000 men who go to Soho’s 56 Dean Street sexual health clinic each month are using “chems”, though it’s hard to quantify how many people regularly have chemsex in the UK. Chemsex environments can be fun and controlled; they can also be unsafe and highly addictive.

Participants congregate in each other’s flats, chat, chill out, have sex and top up their drugs. GBL can only be taken in tiny doses without being fatal, so revellers set timers on their phones to space out the shots.

GBL is known as “the date rape drug”; it looks like water, and a small amount can wipe your memory. Like some of his peers, Wharton was raped while passed out from the drug. He had been asleep for six or so hours, and woke up to someone having sex with him. “That was the worst point, without a doubt – rock bottom,” he tells me. “[But] it didn’t stop me from returning to those activities again.”

There is a chemsex-related death every 12 days in London from usually accidental GBL overdoses; a problem that Wharton compares to the AIDS epidemic in a book he’s written about his experiences, Something for the Weekend.


Wharton has written a book about his experiences. Photo: Biteback

Wharton’s first encounter with the drug, at a gathering he was taken to by a date a couple of years ago, had him hooked.

“I loved it and I wanted more immediately,” he recalls. From then on, he would take it every weekend, and found doctors, teachers, lawyers, parliamentary researchers, journalists and city workers all doing the same thing. He describes regular participants as the “London gay elite”.

“Chemsex was the most traumatic chapter of my life” 

Topics of conversation “bounce from things like Lady Gaga’s current single to Donald Trump”, Wharton boggles. “You’d see people talking about the general election, to why is Britney Spears the worst diva of them all?”

Eventually, he found himself addicted to the whole chemsex culture. “It’s not one single person, it’s not one single drug, it’s just all of it,” he says.



Wharton was in the Household Cavalry alongside Prince Harry. Photos: Biteback and James Wharton

Wharton feels the stigma attached to chemsex is stopping people practising it safely, or being able to stop. He’s found a support network through gay community-led advice services, drop-ins and workshops. Not everyone has that access, or feels confident coming forward.

“This is the real consequence of Section 28,” says Wharton, who left school in 2003, the year this legislation against “promoting” homosexuality was repealed. “Who teaches gay men how to have sex? Because the birds and the bees chat your mum gives you is wholly irrelevant.”


Wharton was the first openly gay soldier to appear in the military in-house magazine. Photo courtesy of Biteback

Wharton only learned that condoms are needed in gay sex when he first went to a gay bar at 18. He was brought up in Wrexham, north Wales, by working-class parents, and described himself as a “somewhat geeky gay” prior to his chemsex days.

After four years together, he and his long-term partner had a civil partnership in 2010; they lived in a little cottage in Windsor with two dogs. Their break-up in 2014 launched him into London life as a single man.

As an openly gay soldier, Wharton was also an Army poster boy; he appeared in his uniform on the cover of gay magazine Attitude. He served in the Household Cavalry with Prince Harry, who once defended him from homophobic abuse, and spent seven months in Iraq.


In 2012, Wharton appeared with his then civil partner in Attitude magazine. Photo courtesy of Biteback

A large Union Jack shield tattoo covering his left bicep pokes out from his t-shirt – a physical reminder of his time at war on his now much leaner frame. He had it done the day he returned from Iraq.

Yet even including war, Wharton calls chemsex “the most traumatic chapter” of his life. “Iraq was absolutely Ronseal, it did exactly what it said on the tin,” he says. “It was going to be a bit shit, and then I was coming home. But with chemsex, you don’t know what’s going to happen next.

“When I did my divorce, I had support around me. When I did the Army, I had a lot of support. Chemsex was like a million miles an hour for 47 hours, then on the 48th hour it was me on my own, in the back of an Uber, thinking where did it all go wrong? And that’s traumatic.”

Something for the Weekend: Life in the Chemsex Underworld by James Wharton is published by Biteback.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 29 June 2009 issue of the New Statesman, The Great Escape