18 Fantastic photos of 'stig of the dump' Frocester craftsman

From his workshop in Frocester where the rafters are lined with bundles of pipes he salvages, designs and constructs furniture using perhaps the humblest of materials in a builder’s arsenal: copper.

When I arrive at the Wonky Donkey Warehouse, there are no donkeys, metallic or otherwise, in sight.

Instead, among tools and shavings glisten iridescent candlesticks, lamps, baskets, racks, even toilet roll holders, all exuding a uniquely industrial chic. 

One of Paul's fantastic creations - view the photo gallery above to see more

For Paul, it had all been very accidental.

An area sales manager for 20 or so years - and, he emphasises, an “uncreative” one at that - he quit the rat race to try his hand at property development.

“I’ve always liked DIY,” he confesses. But copper only blipped on Paul’s metal detector when a friend who was downsizing homes needed a smaller table.

Paul at work on one of his brilliant creations

It was his first time building from scratch - and he was instantly hooked.

Anyone who has worked with copper knows just how awkward it can be.

You must continually race against time, or, more precisely, against oxygen.

To achieve the rose gold finish his customers adore, Paul is always one step ahead of copper’s propensity to rust.

He must polish, then construct, then polish again, and so on.

In a matter of 24 hours a shining piece of metal risks becoming dull, blotched with black spots.

Not that an aged look is undesirable - Paul speculates some may prefer more “antique” looking versions of his wares - but it is only until a final coating of gloss is applied does Paul win out against the air around him.

Paul also battles geometry. While copper pipes are critical for ensuring your taps work, they are less apt for structural use.

One of Paul's fantastic creations - view the photo gallery above to see more

Predominantly working with joints angled at 90 or 45 degrees may suit a plumber, able to hide gracelessness behind walls, but Paul must work at the limits of what essentially amounts to water Lego.

The flipside is his creations are surprisingly lightweight - he asks me pick up one side of a bathroom unit; I overcompensate and nearly wonk myself in my asinine face.

Why, then, copper? “It’s vogue,” Paul first retorts. He is a businessman as well as a craftsman, and he is not dogmatically wedded to his current medium of choice; where trends head, Paul will follow.

Brass may be next, he suggests - though he visibly grimaces at working with an even softer, fussier material.

But, moreover, Paul revels in the elegance of his designs.

One of Paul's fantastic creations - view the photo gallery above to see more

Copper forces him to not only be pragmatic, but parsimonious, and the most striking features of his creations are their ingenuity.

Paul, like a Dr Frankenstein with a predilection for metal over flesh, delights in revealing that a set of lamps that glow with the warm hues of their gas ancestors actually make use of classic Kilner jars.

With sadness he shows me a failed prototype of a mug tree, copper’s angular constraints meaning its branches did not give the cups enough room; with determination he assures me he will try again.

Paul’s also enjoys the juxtaposition between old and new.

Take his iPad stand, for instance, which houses one of the 21st century’s most iconic gadgets in a Victorian - some might say steampunk - frame. Again, Steve meets Stig.

This is Paul’s work in a nutshell - the art of reclaiming, repurposing - of salvage. His days are spent perusing flea markets, both online and offline, for the next relic to revitalise.

One of Paul's fantastic creations - view the photo gallery above to see more

“Research and development,” as Paul calls it, currently takes up the bulk of his time. Etsy and Pinterest in particular are this skewed mule’s muses - but he is not rehashing just any old kitsch crap.

He walks me over to a classic Singer sewing machine which, if he can find a twin, he will turn into a table, underpinned by the two iconic frames.

At the moment Paul’s digital presence is limited to Facebook.

Throughout our conversation he repeatedly underlines his business is still nascent, as he only went all-in with alloys at Christmas. By and large, trial and error remains his working method, and he is no stranger to going back to the drawing board.

His chief employee is his 18 year old son who, though initially sceptical, regularly helps build at the Warehouse. But Paul’s ambition is palpable. He expects his website - and a thriving high income client base - to be up and running shortly.

In the meantime, Paul’s work is on display in the Malt House Emporium in Ashchurch, Tewkesbury, just off M5 Junction 9, where 70 dealers, united in applying modern thinking to vintage sensibilities, curate their wares under one roof.

One of Paul's fantastic creations - view the photo gallery above to see more

Paul’s own home also acts as a lived-in showroom.

Before I leave, there’s one question I can’t resist asking Paul: “if you were a metal, would you be copper?” “No,” he replies flatly, “I am too flexible”.

Paul Kilmister, the uncreative salesman, is long gone. In his place stands an adaptable designer, just as much shaped by copper and its constraints as he shapes it.