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Fuel‑price protests have erupted across the Republic of Ireland, described by observers as the most serious civil unrest since the state’s founding in the 1920s. Demonstrators, largely farm contractors and hauliers, have staged "go‑slow" convoys on motorways, blocked ports and even targeted the country’s sole oil refinery at Whitegate, County Cork. The unrest mirrors France’s Yellow Vests movement in its focus on carbon taxes and fuel duties, but unlike the French case it is being triggered by an external shock: the closure of the Strait of Hormuz after the United States and Israel launched a military campaign against Iran in late February 2026. The strait carries roughly 20% of global oil and LNG shipments, and its blockage has precipitated a sharp rise in fuel costs in Ireland – diesel up about 28% and petrol by 25%. By the weekend, around 40% of Irish petrol stations were empty, leaving many motorists stranded. In response, the Dublin coalition government ordered the army to clear blockades and authorised the police (An Garda Síochána) to make arrests, though the total number of detainees has not been disclosed. To quell the crisis, the government unveiled a package of concessions worth nearly $600 million. The measures include a 10% discount on diesel and petrol and a postponement of a planned carbon tax, aimed at both motorists and the broader food‑production sector (farming and fishing). The Taoiseach and Tánaiste have appealed for an end to the protests and urged dialogue through representative bodies. Public sentiment is split. A poll by the Sunday Independent found that 56% of respondents initially backed the protesters, but growing disruption – such as the cancellation of scheduled surgeries and travel difficulties for the elderly – appears to be eroding that support. Analysts highlight deeper structural issues in Ireland’s agri‑economy. Patrick Bresnihan of Maynooth University warned that the protests expose “deep inequalities and contradictions” in a system dominated by export‑oriented dairy and beef production, where many workers face precarious, seasonal contracts. While the protests have not ignited a comparable far‑right surge seen in parts of Europe, commentators caution that the unrest could provide fertile ground for populist narratives. Right‑wing groups in Germany, Spain and France have previously linked agricultural grievances to broader anti‑EU sentiment, though such movements remain marginal in Ireland. In Northern Ireland, planned blockades largely failed to materialise. Minor “go‑slow” convoys caused brief diversions, but no major infrastructure was seized and only a handful of fines were issued. Experts, including Queen’s University Belfast anthropologist Dominic Bryan, suggest the limited turnout reflects a lack of cohesive demands and organizational capacity north of the border. Political fallout in Dublin includes a confidence vote survived by the coalition after Sinn Féin’s challenge, and the resignation of junior minister Michael Healy‑Rea, who was cheered by protesters outside Leinster House. Overall, the fuel‑price protests underscore how a regional conflict in the Middle East can cascade into domestic unrest in Europe, intertwining energy security, rural economics and political stability.

Warner Bros' new take on The Mummy, directed by Lee Cronin, has been met with criticism for its grandiose approach and lackluster execution. The film's attempt to distance itself from Universal's upcoming return to the franchise and capitalize on the current trend of auteur-driven horror films has been seen as unearned and indulgent. Cronin, an Irish filmmaker with only two previous films under his belt, has been praised for his visual talent, but his Mummy has been criticized for being absurdly overlong at 134 minutes and tonally unsure. The film's attempt to blend elements of classic monster movies with modern horror tropes has resulted in a messy and unoriginal product. The film's plot, which revolves around a creepy kid who returns from the dead with a malevolent presence, has been compared to other horror films such as The Exorcist and The Omen. However, the execution falls short, with rubbery prosthetics and an exhaustingly loud finale that fails to deliver scares. Despite its bold ambition and stunning visuals, the film ultimately feels like a lesser imitation of other horror films. The lack of character development, suspense, and logic makes it difficult to become invested in the story. The Mummy is set to release in Australian cinemas on April 16 and in the US and UK on April 17.

Moya Brennan's voice was a remarkable instrument that captivated audiences worldwide, particularly with Clannad's hit song Theme from Harry's Game, which reached No 5 in the charts in 1982, sung in Irish Gaelic.Her distinctive voice, described as light as a leaf, provided a sacred counterpoint to the band's layered harmonies and Prophet 5 synthesiser sounds, guiding them to new musical territories.Brennan's impact extended beyond music, influencing the transportive possibilities of traditional music in film and TV soundtracks, including Robin of Sherwood, Titanic, and the King Arthur film adaptation.Her singing and harp-playing, nurtured in her parents' remote tavern in County Donegal, formed the foundation of Clannad's unique sound, characterised by 'blood harmony' with her siblings and uncles.Brennan's legacy paved the way for global success of artists like Enya and influenced Kate Bush's The Ninth Wave and The Beloved's The Sun Rising.Throughout her career, Brennan collaborated with various artists, including Bono, Bruce Hornsby, and the Blue Nile, and continued to perform and record music until her terminal diagnosis with pulmonary fibrosis.Her final performance, an a cappella rendition of Clannad's Gaoth Barra Na dTonn on a RTÉ show, was profoundly moving, showcasing her enduring spirit and vocal talent.

The Leeds Song Festival, a top-tier celebration of the vocal arts, continues to push the envelope with its innovative performances. Director Joseph Middleton's determination to think outside the box while honoring the festival's roots in traditional recitals is evident in two vastly different concerts.The first, 'Haiku', premiered last year in Minnesota and features eight poems taken from a collection of haiku written by Japanese Americans interned during World War II. Baritone Roderick Williams and pianist Iain Burnside brought these distilled musical morsels to life, exploring themes of exile, detention, and deportation.Williams, a master storyteller, breathed life into the songs with his warm vocal embrace and expressive physicality, bringing pain and pathos, wit and wisdom to a kaleidoscopic array of songs. Burnside was his equal, providing a generous and supportive piano accompaniment.The program included highlights such as Gerald Finzi's setting of Thomas Hardy, 'Waiting Both', and Joan Trimble's 'My Grief on the Sea', a delicate Irish love song. The evening ended with Maria Grever's rumba-inflected 'What a Diff'rence a Day Made', a perfect laid-back note.The second concert, 'Dunwich', a festival commission, stretched the idea of a traditional recital to the limit. This haunting soundscape combined field recordings made at the site of Dunwich's last remaining gravestone with Martin Iddon's shape-shifting writing for piano. The piece featured slyly sinister accounts of local ghost stories, delivered by speaker Gillian Jane Lees, and eerie black-and-white videos by Adam York Gregory.

The Italian comedy-drama Diamanti is set in a costume atelier in 1970s Rome and features a predominantly female ensemble. While it may be light on comedy, the drama is decidedly on the melo end of the scale, making it a sumptuously soapy dramedy. The film's strength lies in its luscious-looking period costumes, which specialize in 18th-century silhouettes and 1970s prints.Director Ferzan Özpetek brings his love and sincerity to the film, which is inspired by his visits to costume studios around Rome in the 80s. The story follows sisters Alberta (Luisa Ranieri) and Gabriella (Jasmine Trinca) as they run a studio staffed by dozens of seamstresses. The film's framing device features Özpetek himself gathering his cast for a read-through, where one character describes the female assemblage as a “vaginodromo”.The film explores various subplots, including girl-on-girl tension among the staff, a battered wife urged to defy her husband, and a political protestor with a gift for passementerie and decoupage. The costumes designed by Stefano Ciammitti convince throughout, and the film's 135-minute runtime feels breathless, never draggy.Diamanti is set to release in UK and Irish cinemas from 17 April. With its stacked cast and Özpetek's direction, this film is sure to delight fans of period dramas and costume films.

The Blue Trail, directed by Gabriel Mascaro, is a captivating and thought-provoking film that defies easy categorization. Set in the remote north-west of Brazil, the movie follows Tereza, a 77-year-old widow played by Denise Weinberg, as she navigates a dystopian future where older citizens are forced into 'colonies'. This chilling premise serves as the backdrop for a film that explores themes of rebellion, freedom, and the patronization of older people.The film's narrative is characterized by its meandering pace, reminiscent of a road movie or river movie, as Tereza encounters a series of characters who aid her in her escape. These encounters are woven together with fascinating visual compositions, showcasing the Amazonian landscape in a way that is both breathtaking and haunting.One of the most striking aspects of The Blue Trail is its exploration of gerontocide and the dehumanizing treatment of older citizens. The 'wrinkle wagon', a special prison vehicle for errant oldsters, and the humiliating, compulsory adult diapers issued to those being transported to 'colonies' are potent symbols of this theme.Tereza's journey is marked by moments of defiance and resilience, as she forms connections with a riverboat captain, Cadu (played by Rodrigo Santoro), and a woman named Roberta (played by Miriam Socarras), who becomes her friend and potential love interest.The film's use of symbolism adds depth to its narrative, particularly in the form of the 'blue drool snail', whose ecstatic visions offer a glimpse into a world beyond the dystopian reality. This blend of tones, from the bittersweet to the subversive and disquieting, makes The Blue Trail a generic mashup that is both captivating and thought-provoking.The Blue Trail is set to release in UK and Irish cinemas on April 17, making it a must-watch for fans of dystopian fiction and those interested in exploring the complexities of ageism and rebellion.

The Fallen by Louise Brangan offers a meticulously researched portrait of the Magdalene laundries, the most notorious component of Ireland’s 20th‑century network of correctional institutions. The review notes that, at their peak in 1951, the country held 70 women per 100,000 in these laundries compared with 27 men per 100,000 in prisons, underscoring the laundries as the primary carceral system for females. Although established under state authority, the facilities were operated by Catholic nuns. Girls as young as nine and women into their eighties were compelled to work six days a week, without wages, on arduous, often hand‑operated machinery. Discipline was severe, and any minor infraction could trigger harsh punishment. The book illustrates how women were funneled into the system with little justification. Brangan recounts the case of a 15‑year‑old named Eileen, who vanished in February 1954 after being approached by members of the Legion of Mary—a lay group tasked with policing Ireland’s moral standards. She was taken to a gated house marked “Saint Mary Magdalen’s Asylum,” stripped of her identity, and assigned the number “60.” The narrative emphasizes that many detainees were simply “wayward or unwanted”—homeless, abused, or otherwise marginalized—rather than having committed any serious crime. Brangan draws a stark parallel between the Catholic Church’s grip on Irish society and the Communist Party’s control in Eastern Europe before 1989, suggesting both operated as pervasive, authoritarian forces. The laundries, though conspicuously situated among ordinary businesses, were largely ignored by a public that chose not to confront the “tall, locked iron gates” and the suffering behind them. The review situates the laundries within a broader context of institutional abuse, referencing the mother‑and‑baby homes that saw an estimated 56,000 women and girls pass through, with roughly 57,000 babies born, most notably at the Bon Secours home in Tuam. Investigations by Catherine Corless uncovered a mass grave of nearly 800 infants, highlighting the systemic nature of the tragedy. Financial redress has been slow. To date, the Irish government has disbursed more than €33 million to survivors of the laundries, while most religious orders have refused to contribute. A survivor’s testimony, quoted by Brangan, captures the lingering impact: “There’s always something in my life that will remind me of my past… I’ll never heal.” The review concludes by noting that the book, published by Bodley Head at £22, serves both as a harrowing testament and a call to remember a dark chapter of Irish history that continues to shape the lives of those who endured it.

On O’Connell Street, a lime‑green CLAAS tractor arrived with a 19‑year‑old driver named Dylan, who explained that his convoy was the second to join a city‑wide fuel blockade that halted traffic for nearly a week. The protest, organized by farmers, hauliers and fishermen, highlighted the impact of a 60% increase in fuel duties and taxes on everyday Irish life. Dylan warned that the surge in fuel costs would eventually ripple through food prices, threatening household budgets across the nation. He and his companions, two teenagers, had endured cold nights inside the tractor, underscoring the desperation felt by many workers. The unrest, described by the Irish president as an "illegal war on Iran," has laid bare Ireland’s dependence on fossil fuels and the lack of a coherent transition strategy toward renewable energy. During six days of action, protestors blocked motorways, ports, the country’s sole oil refinery in County Cork, and fuel depots in Limerick and Galway. By the end of the week, petrol stations began to run low, prompting the justice minister to consider deploying the army. Yet on the streets, public sentiment was largely supportive; a recent poll indicated that 56% of respondents backed the demonstrators. Historical symbolism filled the scene: tractors flew the Irish tricolour beside buildings still scarred by the 1916 Easter Rising, while a lorry bore a painted coffin with the words "RIP Ireland" and a banner reading "Easter 2026". Critics on national radio questioned the tactics, citing concerns for vulnerable patients unable to reach medical appointments. Nonetheless, the direct‑action approach succeeded in drawing international attention and pressuring the government. When mounted police units arrived on Sunday morning, the convoy withdrew peacefully. Shortly thereafter, the coalition of Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael announced a €500 million concession package, augmenting an earlier €250 million relief plan with cuts to excise duty and a postponement of the next carbon‑tax increase. Despite the financial concessions, a looming no‑confidence vote appears unlikely to topple the centre‑right coalition, even as public trust in traditional parties wanes. Dylan, too young to have voted in the last election, expressed little confidence in the political establishment. The protests have also been infiltrated by far‑right elements, with some speakers promoting anti‑immigrant conspiracies and misogynistic rhetoric. One spokesperson was found to have prior convictions for animal cruelty, and the Muslim Sisters of Éire reported being told to "go home" by flag‑waving agitators, highlighting a surge in xenophobic discourse. Beyond the immediate fuel price surge—up roughly 20% in a single month—the demonstrations raise broader questions about Ireland’s reliance on volatile global markets. The nation imports over 80% of its fruit and vegetables, while its data‑centre sector now consumes more electricity than all urban households combined, underscoring the tension between economic growth and sustainable energy policy. Analysts argue that lasting change cannot be achieved by pushing working people to the brink while catering to corporate interests. Ireland is expected to lobby the EU for a pause on carbon‑tax increases and to join calls for an EU‑wide tax on oil and gas profits, similar to measures advocated by Spain. In sum, the Dublin fuel blockade has forced the government to concede significant fiscal relief, exposed deep structural vulnerabilities in Ireland’s energy and food supply chains, and sparked a contentious debate over the role of grassroots protest, social cohesion, and climate justice.

Nicky Henderson, 75, has spent nearly five decades shaping British racing, yet the saga of his star gelding Constitution Hill still makes him pause. After a sun‑lit afternoon in Lambourn, the trainer watched the usually placid horse stroll into his stable, a stark contrast to the drama that has defined the horse’s recent career.Henderson, speaking alongside owner Michael Buckley, emphasized the personal bond they share with the animal, calling him “more a pal than a beast” and noting his unique appeal to the public.Constitution Hill burst onto the scene with a ten‑race winning streak, highlighted by a dominant 2023 Champion Hurdle victory at Cheltenham. Experts briefly hailed him as one of the greatest hurdlers of all time, lauding his speed and precision over obstacles.That dominance vanished almost overnight. The gelding began to experience what Henderson likened to a golfer’s “yips”, falling in three of his last four hurdle races. Even a race at Punchestown where he stayed upright ended in a “disconcertingly tame display”, according to Timeform, which had previously ranked him the best hurdler of recent decades.Plans for a Cheltenham return were scrapped, and the team pivoted to flat racing. Constitution Hill delivered two striking victories at Southwell and Kempton in early 2026, drawing crowds of all ages. Henderson said the flat races felt like a “glorious celebration”, and the horse’s performance on the flat has been “brilliant”.His newfound flat success has sparked global interest. Henderson received invitations from racetracks worldwide, though he dismissed wild speculation about the Melbourne Cup as “the least likely of the lot”. Instead, a more measured approach is being considered, with the John Porter Stakes at Newbury on the agenda if the ground suits.“It’s not everybody’s idea of the most sensible race for him,” Henderson admitted, but added that a second year of racing could still be on the cards. He stressed that the horse’s safety and public enjoyment remain paramount.When asked why Constitution Hill lost his jumping confidence, Henderson cited several factors, including the introduction of new padded hurdles, which the horse disliked. He also mentioned a series of well‑meaning consultants—from Australian “gurus” to renowned equestrian coach Yogi Breisner—none of whom could reverse the decline.Despite the setbacks, the horse’s flat form has been a commercial boon. Henderson reported an 800% surge in ticket sales at Southwell compared with the previous year, illustrating the public’s fascination with the “ridiculous horse that can’t stand up”.Looking ahead, Henderson is entertaining a range of international options: the French Prix du Cadran, the Irish St Leger, and even potential programs in Germany and the United States. Yet he remains realistic about travel logistics, noting that Constitution Hill requires companion horses for long trips.In the trainer’s words, “You’ve got to have fun,” and with Constitution Hill’s current trajectory, the aim is to bring that joy back to racing while navigating the horse’s unique needs and the sport’s evolving landscape.