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Across Iraq, public gatherings and street celebrations have erupted as the United States and Iran announce a two‑week ceasefire, initiating the first formal halt in their recent conflict. The pause, set to begin immediately, has been welcomed by Iraqis who view it as a hopeful step toward regional stability. While details of the agreement remain limited, the visible optimism among the Iraqi population underscores the broader desire for de‑escalation in the Middle East.

President Donald Trump warned on Tuesday that a U.S. attack on Iran could cause "a whole civilization to die tonight," a statement that sparked immediate backlash from climate icon Greta Thunberg. The Swedish activist, known for her outspoken stance on climate change and the Gaza crisis, described the president’s remarks as a normalization of genocide and urged the public to reject such rhetoric. In an Instagram video posted shortly before a cease‑fire was announced, Thunberg lamented the "muted" reaction to the threat, asking, "What the f*** is anyone even doing at this point?" She emphasized that the world has become accustomed to "total annihilation of entire peoples" and the "systematic destruction of the biosphere," urging viewers to demand an end to these narratives. Poll data reveal a stark generational split on the war. A Pew Research Center survey released Tuesday showed that while 67 % of Republicans aged 65+ believe the conflict will curb Iran’s nuclear ambitions, only 25 % of Republicans aged 18‑29 share that view. When asked about the war’s impact on Iranians, just 7 % of older Republican voters said they would be worse off, compared with nearly 28 % of younger voters. Among Democrats, the age gap is less pronounced but still significant: 60 % of young Democratic respondents (18‑29) think the war will harm Iranians, versus 48 % of those over 65. Similar patterns emerge in other surveys. Emerson College found that 75 % of respondents under 50 fear a new world war within four years, compared with 54 % of those over 50. A Politico poll of self‑identified “MAGA Republicans” showed that only 49 % of those under 35 believe Trump has a concrete plan for the Iran conflict, versus 70 % of older supporters. These findings echo a broader historical trend: younger Americans, many of whom grew up in the shadow of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, display a more isolationist outlook. A December 2025 Pew poll indicated that only 39 % of 18‑29‑year‑olds consider active U.S. involvement in global affairs important, compared with 73 % of seniors. The generational divide also extends to attitudes toward Israel. The same Tuesday poll reported that 84 % of young Democrats and 57 % of young Republicans hold an unfavorable view of Israel, whereas older respondents are considerably less critical. Thunberg’s criticism of Trump aligns with her longstanding activism on Middle‑East issues. Last year she joined a humanitarian flotilla bound for Gaza, only to be detained and deported by Israeli forces. Her latest condemnation underscores a growing sentiment among Gen Z that calls for accountability and an end to war‑like rhetoric. In summary, the controversy surrounding Trump’s Iran threat has amplified existing generational tensions in the United States, with younger citizens increasingly questioning the efficacy and morality of U.S. military interventions while demanding a shift away from language that normalizes mass violence.

An Iranian musician has staged a bold protest at a local power station, highlighting growing tensions between Iran and the United States under the leadership of former President Donald Trump. The protest comes amid a backdrop of heightened US-Iran relations, with Trump's administration imposing significant sanctions on Iran.The musician's actions reflect a broader discontent within Iran against US threats and policies. While details of the protest and the musician's identity remain scarce, the event underscores the complex dynamics at play in the region.This development is a testament to the ongoing challenges in US-Iran relations, with both countries navigating a delicate balance of power and diplomacy.

U.S. crude futures tumbled about 16.5% to $94 a barrel after President Donald Trump declared a two‑week ceasefire with Iran. The announcement sparked a broad market rally: S&P; 500 futures jumped over 2%, the dollar weakened across the board, and 10‑year U.S. Treasury futures rose roughly 15 ticks. Investors welcomed the prospect of resuming oil and gas flows through the strategic Strait of Hormuz, a chokepoint that carries roughly one‑fifth of global petroleum shipments. The ceasefire, which Trump said would halt U.S. attacks for two weeks, is being coordinated with the Iranian Armed Forces, and Tehran has pledged to cease its own strikes if the United States does the same. Since the U.S. and Israel launched attacks on Iran at the end of February, markets have been volatile. The conflict forced Iran to effectively close the Strait, contributing to the . The new de‑escalation offers a potential relief valve for inflation‑sensitive economies and could restore confidence in energy‑intensive sectors. "Markets have been predicting that Trump was looking for an off‑ramp in Iran," said Jamie Cox, managing partner at Harris Financial Group. "Today, he got one and took it." The sentiment was echoed by analysts who see the ceasefire as a "good start" that may pave the way for a more permanent reopening of the waterway, though many uncertainties remain. Asian equity futures also pointed higher, reflecting the global impact of lower oil prices on regional markets that have been battered by the war and soaring energy costs. Meanwhile, the dollar's retreat underscores its recent role as a safe‑haven currency during the turmoil. Trump added that the United States had received a "10‑point proposal" from Iran, which he described as a workable basis for negotiations toward a long‑term peace settlement. While the ceasefire is limited to two weeks, analysts such as IG's Tony Sycamore caution that "lots of ifs still to work out" before a durable resolution can be achieved.

In a revealing glimpse of the club’s ironclad exclusivity, a 2019 iMessage exchange shows Jeffrey Epstein pleading with Steve Bannon to secure a membership for Paul, Weiss partner Brad Karp. Bannon dismissed the request, describing Augusta’s governing families as "crackers" from the Old South who distrust lawyers and bankers, underscoring the club’s cultural gatekeeping. That anecdote illustrates a broader truth: money alone cannot buy entry to the Masters. Even former President Donald Trump has never been able to force his way onto the Augusta grounds, a rarity among high‑profile U.S. sporting events. Traditionally, most tickets are allocated to lifelong local patrons, a practice that has been frozen since the 1970s. The only official avenue for the public is an annual lottery, where the odds are so slim they make Tiger Woods’ chances of a sixth Green Jacket look generous. In practice, however, a lucrative secondary market emerged, with scalpers selling tickets for up to 50 times face value and operating just outside the 2,700‑foot anti‑scalping boundary mandated by Georgia law. Last year’s Masters turned into a "bloodbath" for the resale industry. An executive from a local hospitality firm reported that around 200 ticket holders were denied entry after the club began rigorously enforcing its anti‑scalping policy. Patrons were sometimes escorted to a room, asked for identification, and interrogated about how they obtained their tickets – a process likened to a police stop. According to insiders, the club’s four‑day tickets now contain RFID chips that allow staff to track each badge’s location nightly. The embedded barcodes allegedly store the buyer’s address, enabling staff to pinpoint resale activity. Some reports claim the club is even purchasing resale tickets en masse to uncover the identities of sellers, then sending a politely worded letter that permanently bans the recipient from the grounds. Ticket platforms have felt the impact. StubHub has introduced a new contract that makes sellers fully liable for any fees or charges if a buyer is turned away, while SeatGeek has ceased offering Masters tickets altogether. This decisive move by Augusta National signals a broader shift in how elite sports events manage secondary markets. Ultimately, the crackdown serves a dual purpose: protecting the club’s brand integrity and reinforcing its reputation as an institution that remains untouched by even the most powerful political figures. As the Masters approaches, the message is clear – the only way onto Augusta’s hallowed fairways is through its own tightly‑controlled channels, not through the influence of money, politics, or the resale trade.

BBC Two’s three‑part series ‘Michael Jackson: An American Tragedy’ attempts to map the arc of the King of Pop from a Midwestern child prodigy to a global phenomenon whose legacy is still contested. Released ahead of the family‑approved biopic Michael, the documentary does not promise fresh revelations; instead, it seeks to place the singer’s meteoric fame, legal controversies and post‑mortem financial empire within a single narrative. The first episode, titled Fame, foregrounds Jackson’s musical genius while also exposing the fraught dynamics of his family life. Interviews with siblings and childhood acquaintances depict a household where “six bunk beds in one room” were the norm, and where fear of their father, Joe Jackson, loomed large. La Toyia Jackson’s recollection that “Michael had a fear of my father – we all did” underscores the pressure that shaped his early years. In The Reckoning, the series shifts to the period of criminal investigations and media scrutiny. Former spiritual adviser Rabbi Shmuley Boteach describes the tragedy as a man who, despite unparalleled attention, remained “utterly lonely.” Prosecutor Ron Zonen argues that the sheer scale of the Jackson enterprise eclipsed the pursuit of justice, noting the obviousness of the abuse allegations in his view. The episode also revisits the 2003 Martin Bashir documentary, which Boteach recalls as a “shock” that contributed to the star’s eventual downfall. The final installment, The Resurrection, examines the attempts to revive Jackson’s career, his sudden death, and the ripple effects of the 2019 Leaving Neverland documentary. The review notes that the allegations have reshaped public perception to the point where many, including the reviewer, find it difficult to engage with his music. The series concludes that the ongoing legal battles—seven alleged victims are currently suing the estate—represent “the most extraordinary effort to uncancel someone in history.” While the documentary assembles an extensive roster of interviewees—family members, former managers, record executives, and even Donald Trump—it occasionally suffers from an overly broad brushstroke that blurs moral clarity. The reviewer acknowledges the valiant effort to strike a middle ground but questions whether such balance is sufficient for a story marked by “wild extremes.” Overall, the series provides a comprehensive, if not groundbreaking, overview of Jackson’s complex narrative, serving as a timely companion piece to the upcoming biopic and a reminder that the conversation around his legacy remains far from settled. Michael Jackson: An American Tragedy is currently streaming on iPlayer.

Stephen Fry opened his appearance on ITV’s The Assembly with a startling question: “You tried to kill yourself a couple of times. Are you happy to be alive now?” The boldness set the tone for a conversation that veered far from the usual celebrity‑friendly script.The programme distinguishes itself by placing a well‑known guest in front of a panel of young adults with neurodivergence or learning disabilities. Free from the conventional safeguards of mainstream talk shows, the panel asks questions that are simultaneously unconventional and deeply human, prompting guests to respond without the usual rehearsed veneer.For Fry, the format proved liberating. Known for translating complex ideas into accessible language, he used the platform to discuss suicidal ideation, likening the experience to the lingering memory of a broken limb—painful yet now distant. This candidness allowed him to reaffirm why he remains a cultural touchstone.One of the most memorable moments came when a participant asked, “I read that you are bipolar. One of my family has that. How can I help them?” Fry responded with a vivid analogy, describing bipolar disorder as a “rainstorm raging inside you—eventually the sun returns, and it’s the weather, not the person, that changes.” This explanation resonated as both compassionate and educational.The interview oscillated between gravitas and levity. Fry fielded whimsical queries such as “Can you help me meet Céline Dion?” and “How much have you spent on cocaine?” alongside the probing “Are you a top or a bottom?” The juxtaposition amplified the emotional weight of the serious topics.At one point, a young panelist named Luca chose not to ask a question, instead performing William Wordsworth’s poem “The World Is Too Much With Us” with theatrical flair—a rare blend of poetry and performance that underscored the show’s experimental spirit.Another highlight involved Jacob, a panel member who brandished a list of Fry’s past advertising gigs—Heineken, Twinings, Honda, and more—before delivering the punchline, “Is there anything you wouldn’t do for money?” The extended joke built a collective laugh that softened the subsequent, more probing inquiries.Critics have likened the show’s tone to a hybrid of Radio 4’s In the Psychiatrist’s Chair and the cheeky, irreverent style of classic British comedy interviews such as those with Dame Edna Everage or Mrs Merton, creating a unique space where vulnerability and humor coexist.The episode concluded with Nina Simone’s “I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free” playing as Fry reflected on his experiences with antisemitism and bipolar disorder. Moved by the music, he rose and danced, offering a visual testament to the therapeutic power of the format.The Assembly aired on ITV1 and is now available for streaming on ITVX.

In the spring of 2002, the modest Free Butt pub on Brighton’s seafront buzzed with a restless energy. Future stars such as Natasha Khan, then a university art student, danced atop the bar while the Yeah Yeah Yeahs thundered through their first UK dates. Behind the scenes, band frontmen like Guy McKnight of Eighties Matchbox B‑Line Disaster served pints, and budding engineers like Steve Ansell of Cat on Form fine‑tuned the sound. The atmosphere felt like a rite of passage, where any performer could slip from a cramped stage to national attention.Unlike the neatly branded scenes of New York’s garage‑rock revival or London’s Libertines‑driven hype, Brighton’s early‑2000s scene resisted a single aesthetic. Rock groups emerged from rehearsal rooms and tiny clubs with wildly different looks and sounds, creating a cultural mosaic rather than a monolithic movement.Electrelane’s guitarist recalls recording their debut Rock It to the Moon in a studio once owned by the Levellers, and crafting their sophomore effort inside a former public toilet. These unconventional spaces proved surprisingly fertile, underscoring the city’s DIY spirit.By the turn of the millennium, the big‑beat dominance of Fatboy Slim and Skint Records had faded, making way for a grassroots rock surge. Sea Power relocated from Reading to Brighton, drawn by the city’s “dilapidated charm and fresh sea air”. Their self‑organized Club Sea Power nights at the Lift offered a chaotic yet liberating platform that eventually caught Rough Trade’s attention.Women played a pivotal role in shaping the scene’s infrastructure. Promoters Lisa Lout and Anna Moulson, both still active, booked seminal shows—including the Strokes’ first UK gig at the Lift in 2001—and helped launch the Great Escape festival. Their efforts ensured that bands such as the Pipettes, Electrelane and Bat for Lashes could share stages and media coverage.Artists recall the city’s palpable sense of belonging. Rose Dougall of the Pipettes describes a landscape where “alternative culture was on every street, from vintage shops to the colour of the houses,” and where “small venues made it feel attainable to launch a project.” Similarly, Brakes frontman Eamon Hamilton contrasts Brighton’s walk‑able, collaborative vibe with London’s darker, more competitive energy.Music journalism mirrored the scene’s intensity. Everett True and photographer Steve Gullick launched Careless Talk Costs Lives in 2002, a deliberately short‑run magazine that championed female writers and bands at a time when the industry was still heavily male‑dominated.As rents surged through the 2010s, many of the cheap flats, rehearsal rooms and iconic venues that underpinned the scene vanished. The Free Butt closed, independent record stores shuttered, and the once‑abundant low‑cost infrastructure dwindled, prompting a migration of creative energy down the coast to places like Margate, Ramsgate, Folkestone and Shoreham.Nevertheless, the remnants of Brighton’s network continue to nurture new talent, from the Kooks to Dream Wife and Gazelle Twin. The city’s strength lies not in a singular sound but in its capacity to host a “constant collision of wildly dissimilar bands,” allowing artists to develop authentically and fearlessly.

Ballon d’Or prospects are wider than ever after more than a decade dominated by Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo. This season’s Champions League quarter‑finals could tip the balance as the 103‑day run‑in to the World Cup final approaches. Harry Kane leads the conversation, having netted 54 goals across club and country – a tally that includes Bayern Munich’s recent 2‑1 win over Real Madrid. A Champions League triumph with Bayern and a World Cup victory with England would make him the first English Ballon d’Or winner since Michael Owen in 2001. Other candidates include Kylian Mbappé, currently the top scorer in both the Champions League and La Liga, and teenage sensation Lamine Yamal, whose creativity for Barcelona and Spain adds a different flavour to the race. The field remains open enough that a surprise performer – perhaps an Arsenal double‑winner or a PSG‑Portugal combo – could leapfrog the traditional favourites. Folarin Balogun’s USMNT future is under scrutiny. The 24‑year‑old Monaco striker has scored in five consecutive Ligue 1 matches, highlighted by a spectacular chip against Marseille that showcased his peak form. Yet head coach Mauricio Pochettino opted to start Christian Pulisic at centre‑forward in the final warm‑up against Portugal, limiting Balogun’s chance to cement his role. While Pulisic displayed moments of flair, his hold‑up play was described as “more like a winger than a No 9”, underscoring the coach’s dilemma. Balogun’s club form, however, argues that the United States already possess a striker capable of leading the line. Roberto De Zerbi faces a seven‑game deadline at Tottenham Hotspur. Signed on a five‑year deal, the Italian tactician inherits a side that struggled to adapt to his possession‑based philosophy under previous managers. Tottenham rank 12th for touches inside the opposition box and 14th for big chances created (Opta), indicating a lack of the creative outlets De Zerbi favours. He achieved his first win at Brighton after six games and impressed at Marseille with four wins in five, but both successes came after a full pre‑season and targeted transfers – luxuries Tottenham lack at the moment. The upcoming Sunderland clash will be his first real test of whether his style can be implemented quickly enough to steer the club away from relegation danger. In summary, the next three months will decide not only who lifts the 2026 Ballon d’Or, but also whether Balogun can secure a starring role for the USMNT and if De Zerbi can reverse Tottenham’s fortunes before his contract’s short‑term clause expires.