Originally Posted by Paul Markham

In the early 90s, there was no online porn and the level which could be legally sold was controlled in a very clever way. Once the government realised getting a conviction for selling porn was a lot harder than they wished. The accused showed the video, read the terms the law deemed would make it illegal.



Then ask the jury if they had been depraved and corrupted?

Some did get convicted. Those selling straight porn couldn't be. So the BBFC were a new power, they would license videos and the most they would allow was bare breasts. Even too much "eroticism" was deemed too much for videos. Stills could go as far as they liked, movies were controlled.

Those who took the risk of getting caught, faces a stiff penalty.



This was not for selling porn, or anything the establishment didn't like. It was for failing to get a video intended licensed. Even if it was the local school fete intended for sale to the villagers. It had to be licensed. This was a great way for the Government to censor what the public was able to view.

I went beyond the tits only guidelines and made a lot of money. So from 1984 to 1996 every knock on the door had me thinking. Is this the police?

Sometimes it was. The first time was in the 70s. A man had sent me pictures of an Asian girl who was clearly underage offering her as a model to model with him. I phoned the local police and a day later DC Ray Turner knocked on my door. We decided I should write back and tell him to bring her to my place on a set day. Ray and few others got there earlier to set up a recording device. The man and girl turned up, she was underage, he wanted me to take pictures of them having sex for his own personal use. Enter Ray and his crew. Man in handcuffs and charged, girl into care and I get a pat on the back. The guy got convicted, the girl was the daughter of his Thai Bride Wife and they divorced.

I would pass over any letter from anyone looking for images of children to Ray.

Rarely did the police enter my porn life with such a positive result. There's another one I should share today.

Fairly ordinary day, the girls I employed in the office were busy bagging videos for the post. I was editing and "Not to be Disturbed". So when the bell rang my secretary answered the door to tell me, two men wanted to speak to me. Went to the stars to see two men in suits walking up and waving Police IDs at me. Announcing "Are you Paul Markham?". Yes, I replied. They replied "We're from Streatham Murder CID, there's nothing to be worried about.

This is like your doctor telling you he's discovered a dark spot on your lungs, but don't worry. It could be nothing!!!

At this point, they're polite and accept an offer of tea. Then they turn off the charm and turn on the heat. They know I go by a lot of different names. I did this to monitor phone calls from potential models to provide stats on which adverts worked the best. I was monitoring traffic before there was traffic to monitor!! What can I tell them about "Susan Smith", can't recall her name so that will suffice for now. When did I last meet here, what did we do and more. Susan Smith meant nothing to me and I told them so. Adding when I meet girls they could use a different name until I shoot them. So they showed me a photocopy of four pictures of, what I thought, were three different girls. I asked which one is Susan, they said they were all of Susan. Which one's did I take.

Susan is North of 35, not attractive and of no use to me as a model. And I told them so. They told me I was paying her for sex, £50 to be precise for phone sex. Now it's getting confusing, I have a lot of girls coming through the studio who are far more attractive and fucking for the thrill of it and don't need to pay for phone sex.

This went on for another 20 minutes until the bell rang and my present GF walked in and they decided I wasn't going to pay for sex, and most certainly not phone sex. They drop the third degree and tell me what this is about.

Susan is on the game out of her Streatham flat. She's been murdered. She has written down, in memo pads, every single phone call she has received or made as she "does business" and they had a lot of memo pads to go through. One of my pseudonyms and phone number turned up with the added not of "Phone Tuesday for £50". And it was their job to check me out. I told them they had a mountain to climb.

They knew what I did for a living after phoning the local police. Not their concern. Murder was their field.

Months later they phoned to tell me the boyfriend had been changed and confessed.