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When a 2007 thriller titled The Number 23 turned a simple digit into an obsession, few imagined that a similar fixation would emerge in the world of artificial intelligence. Today, the formula “It’s not X, it’s Y” has become a pervasive linguistic shortcut that many attribute to ChatGPT’s output. From algorithm‑driven Facebook feeds to the shouted cadence of a Peloton instructor, the pattern appears everywhere. Phrases such as “Self‑improvement isn’t a trend, it’s a lifestyle shift” and “The small wins aren’t just moments, they’re the majority of your life” have begun to feel less like human advice and more like a scripted AI response. Experts note that this construction is an AI mainstay. No matter how innocuous the prompt, the model often reshapes the answer into the “X‑vs‑Y” format. Ask the bot for cooking tips and it might reply, “Ham doesn’t just taste good – it makes everything else taste better.” Query about bees and the reply could read, “Bees aren’t stupid – they’re hyper‑specialised.” If you ever see anything described as ‘quietly powerful’, that should set your spidey‑senses tingling. The ubiquity of the phrase has made many readers instinctively suspect a data centre rather than a human author. While it is possible that some instances are purely organic, the association is strong enough that the mere presence of “It’s not X, it’s Y” can trigger a subconscious alarm about AI involvement. Historically, the construction predates ChatGPT. A memorable line from the TV series Mad Men—“It’s not a timepiece; it’s a conversation piece”—once felt like clever copywriting. Today, the same line is often read through the lens of a chatbot’s output, illustrating how AI reshapes our perception of language. Beyond this specific formula, other stylistic quirks have emerged as potential AI fingerprints. Vague intensifiers such as “quietly powerful” or “deeply transformative” and an over‑abundance of em‑dashes are increasingly flagged as tell‑tale signs of machine‑generated text. For writers, the constant vigilance has become exhausting. The author confesses to a new habit of mentally re‑labeling everyday statements—turning a cup of tea into a “precious respite” or a window into a “portal to a new way of thinking”—in an effort to avoid the dreaded AI‑style pattern. Looking ahead, the writer hopes the current quirk will fade as language models evolve. Yet the warning remains: new, perhaps even more insidious, stylistic signatures are likely to surface, demanding ever‑greater scrutiny from anyone who values authentic human voice.

Becoming a parent reshapes every facet of daily life—the late‑night outings fade, responsibility expands, and the role shifts from being cared for to becoming a caretaker. This profound transition forms the emotional core of Jess Brodie’s new play, Gush. The playwright deliberately zeroes in on the moments before birth, a period she describes as a “still point” where reflection and anticipation collide. Rather than dramatizing labor itself, Brodie explores the inner landscape of a woman on the brink of motherhood. At the centre of the piece is Ally, a pregnant woman whose bulging belly becomes a visual reminder of her mounting anxieties. She grapples with sleepless nights, dietary restrictions, and the looming deadline of maternity leave, while also confronting an unfinished personal identity that must now accommodate the role of “mum”. Beyond the familiar pressures of pregnancy, the monologue delves into Ally’s quest for self‑realisation. The impending birth is portrayed as a ticking time‑bomb, intensifying her doubts about a middle‑class existence shared with a neurotic, controlling partner. The narrative questions whether she should finally honour the sexual desires she has long suppressed. Critics may note the play’s narrow focus—its politics are largely self‑absorbed, and its feminist themes risk sounding solipsistic. Nevertheless, Brodie’s script is laced with wit and unexpected turns, keeping the audience firmly engaged. In Becky Hope‑Palmer’s meticulously crafted production, the set—half stark white surface, half inviting cushion pool—mirrors the tension between alienation and comfort. It is Jessica Hardwick’s performance that elevates the piece. Her voice, both resonant and precise, navigates Brodie’s rapid tonal shifts—from irony to panic, embarrassment to eroticism, fury to humor—with remarkable sensitivity. Hardwick’s portrayal makes Gush a must‑see, even for those who might otherwise overlook the play’s limited thematic scope. The production runs at the Traverse Theatre in Edinburgh until 25 April.

The literary world was recently abuzz with the news that critically acclaimed author Helen DeWitt had declined a $175,000 Windham-Campbell prize due to its onerous promotional requirements. The prize, which aims to give recipients the financial freedom to focus on their work, came with obligations that DeWitt found unsustainable, including six to eight hours of filming.This decision has ignited a fierce debate about the pressures of self-promotion in the publishing industry and the challenges faced by authors who are unable to meet these demands due to disability, chronic illness, or other personal circumstances. DeWitt's stance has been praised by some as a principled refusal to play the self-promotion game, while others have criticized her as entitled or spoiled.The Windham-Campbell prize is one of the most prestigious literary awards, recognizing eight writers each year for their life's work. This year's winners include Gwendoline Riley, an author known for her nuanced explorations of family relationships. Riley's win is a testament to the prize's ability to shine a light on talented writers who may have been overlooked.The controversy surrounding DeWitt's decision highlights the precarious nature of a literary career. With average author earnings plummeting and the industry becoming increasingly professionalized, many writers are finding it difficult to make a living from their work. The emphasis on self-promotion can be particularly challenging for authors who are neurodivergent or have disabilities, as it can exacerbate existing difficulties.DeWitt's experience has sparked a wider conversation about the need for greater inclusivity and support in the publishing industry. As one author noted, the art world is ahead of publishing in terms of facilitating access and assistance for artists with disabilities. The industry must adapt to accommodate writers with diverse needs and ensure that opportunities are accessible to all, regardless of their abilities.In a surprising twist, DeWitt has since announced that she has received a $175,000 grant from a conservative university thinktank with no strings attached. This development has raised questions about the role of philanthropy in supporting literary talent and the complexities of author promotion in the modern publishing landscape.

A Chinese national has been sentenced to one year in prison and fined by a Nairobi court for attempting to smuggle thousands of ants out of Kenya, a lucrative trade in east Africa that was exposed last year.The insects are mostly destined for China, the US, and Europe, where they become pets and can be worth about $100 each.Ant smuggling made headlines last year when two Belgian teenagers were arrested in possession of nearly 5,000 ants, mostly stored in small test tubes. They were fined about $7,700.Zhang Kequn, who evaded capture until his arrest on 10 March, had been linked to another case involving two people, one Vietnamese and one Kenyan.More than 2,200 ants – including 1,948 prized Messor cephalotes – were found in test tubes in Zhang’s luggage at Nairobi’s international airport that was destined for China.He was initially charged with wildlife trafficking without a permit and conspiracy, which carries a seven-year sentence, his lawyer said. He pleaded guilty after latter charge was dismissed.At the court in Nairobi, the judge, Irene Gichobi, described Zhang as lacking in remorse and “not an entirely honest person”.She said he would be fined 1m Kenya shillings ($7,700) and handed down a one-year jail sentence, after a 14-day appeal. She said he would then be “referred to his home country”.“There is need for a stiff deterrent sentence,” she said, noting the “rising cases of dealing in large quantities of garden ants and the negative ecological side-effects”.

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.

Ron Timehin's photograph, taken at Labadi, a popular tourist resort in Accra, Ghana, offers a unique glimpse into the lives of the local community. The image features five Ghanaians, a ruined farm building, and an elegant horse, which adds a touch of majesty to the scene. Timehin aimed to capture the community's daily life, traditions, and cultural heritage in a collaborative way, allowing the subjects to present themselves as they wanted to be seen. The photograph showcases the community's pride and resilience, highlighting their strong sense of identity and connection to their heritage. The community, centered on fishing, is known for its strong sense of unity and mutual support. Timehin was drawn to the way they look after each other and take pride in their community. The photograph also features a Ghanaian flag, symbolizing national pride and cultural identity. Timehin's project began when he was approached by a charity called My Runway Group, which organizes cultural exchange programs. The project allowed him to document the community and share some culture between the UK and Ghana. His work has been shortlisted for the Sony World Photography Awards 2026, and an exhibition of his images will be held at Somerset House in London.

The Dutch insurer Aegon has agreed to sell its historic UK operation to Standard Life for a total consideration of £2 billion. The package includes a cash payment of £750 million and the issue of 181.1 million new Standard Life shares to Aegon. By merging Aegon's UK business—home to 3.7 million customers and 2,000 employees—with Standard Life, the combined group will serve 16 million customers and manage roughly £480 billion of assets under administration, creating the largest retirement‑savings and income platform in the United Kingdom. Aegon, which traces its UK roots back to the 1831 founding of Scottish Equitable, first acquired the business in 1998 and rebranded it in 2009. The sale is part of a broader restructuring that will see Aegon's headquarters relocate to the United States and the company rebrand as Transamerica. Following the transaction, Aegon will become Standard Life's biggest shareholder, holding a 15.3% stake and securing the right to appoint one non‑executive director to the board. Standard Life CEO Andy Briggs described the deal as a catalyst for the group's ambition to become the UK's leading retirement‑savings business. He outlined a plan to realise approximately £110 million of cost savings over the next three years, noting that only half of these efficiencies are expected to materialise in the initial period. Briggs also addressed potential job impacts, stating that while there will be some redundancies, the effect will be "more modest" compared with other recent industry consolidations. The transaction follows Standard Life's own recent evolution: Phoenix Group acquired the former Standard Life Aberdeen insurance arm for £3 billion in 2018, rebranded the business as Standard Life, and has since seen Aberdeen reduce its stake to around 10%. Analysts view the deal as a strategic win‑win: Aegon accelerates its pivot to the US market, while Standard Life gains scale, a broader customer base, and a stronger balance sheet to compete in a highly consolidated UK pensions market.

Nicole Kidman has announced her latest venture: training as a death doula, a professional who provides support to individuals nearing the end of life. The Australian actress revealed this during a speech at the University of San Francisco, sharing her personal experience of losing her mother, Janelle Ann, in 2024. Kidman's decision to become a death doula was motivated by her mother's lonely and isolating experience at the end of her life. With her sister and herself managing their careers and families, Kidman expressed a desire for impartial support during this difficult time. She noted that death doulas can offer solace and care to both the dying and their families. Death doulas, also known as end-of-life doulas, have become increasingly recognized in recent years. They provide emotional, physical, and psychological support to individuals approaching death, similar to how traditional doulas assist during childbirth. This role has gained attention, with even celebrities like Oscar-winning director Chloé Zhao pursuing similar training due to her own fears about death. Kidman's journey into this field follows her recent achievements, including winning the best actress award at the Venice film festival in September 2024 for her role in Babygirl. Her personal life has also seen significant changes, having lost her father, Antony, in 2014. By training as a death doula, Kidman aims to expand her understanding of end-of-life care and provide meaningful support to those in need. This new role reflects her commitment to helping others during life's most challenging moments.

The new Apple TV series 'Margo's Got Money Troubles' marks a significant milestone in Michelle Pfeiffer's career renaissance. The show, a comedy-drama created by David E Kelley, is based on the 2024 bestselling novel by Rufi Thorpe and directed by Dearbhla Walsh.Elle Fanning stars as Margo, a young woman who becomes pregnant after having a relationship with her English professor. Her mother, Shyanne, played by Pfeiffer, also got pregnant at a young age and has been struggling to make ends meet. The series explores their complex relationship and the challenges they face.Pfeiffer delivers a powerful performance, particularly in a scene where she expresses her grief and disappointment at Margo's pregnancy. “Will I love him? Of course. Just as I loved you from the moment you were born … But this life as you know it – this life that you never got to know – is over. I can’t rejoice in that.” This scene showcases Pfeiffer's talent and adds depth to the show.However, the series remains a David E Kelley production, which means it stays light and firmly on the side of the angels. The drama avoids exploring darker themes in depth, making it a cosy commentary on family and relationships.The show also stars Greg Kinnear as an Episcopalian minister and Nicole Kidman as a former wrestler turned lawyer. Despite its talented cast, the series could have been more impactful with a more nuanced approach to its themes.'Margo's Got Money Troubles' is now available on Apple TV.