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Chris Evans’ attempt to resurrect the 1990s chatshow juggernaut TFI Friday began quietly on Virgin Radio’s YouTube channel earlier this year. The lo‑fi series, titled TFI: Unplugged, featured a handful of high‑profile guests – Danny Dyer, Chris Hemsworth, Bono and Noah Wyle – and quickly attracted enough viewers for Channel 4 to commission six late‑night episodes. While the media spotlight has been on Claudia Winkleman’s foray into celebrity interviewing, Evans’ revival arrives with far less fanfare and pressure. The new format is deliberately stripped back: a cramped studio, casually dressed staff, and a budget that Evans himself jokes is “only 1% of the original”. Channel 4 commissioning editor Cimran Shah pitched the show as “personality‑led, stripped‑back chat”, positioning it as a precursor to today’s visual podcasts. In practice, the production feels more like a video‑recorded audio interview than a full‑blown TV spectacle. The episode lineup mixes legacy and fresh talent. Vintage performances from Sleeper, The Cure and Garbage provide a nostalgic soundtrack, while contemporary guests such as Jack Savoretti – who Evans repeatedly hails for a recent chart‑topping album – and Indian star Shreya Ghoshal, who covers Coldplay’s “Fix You”, aim to broaden appeal. A promised appearance by Gemma Arterton and Peter Capaldi never materialised; instead, singer‑songwriter Sam Ryder appeared despite having lost his voice. One of the few moments that truly harkens back to the original is a splice of Evans’ 1999 interview with David Bowie, in which the legendary musician bizarrely claims to have contracted gastroenteritis from eating monkey meat. The clip underscores Evans’ desire to remind viewers of the show’s storied past, even if the anecdote feels more odd than iconic. Critics note that the new Unplugged version lacks the “laddish, often cruel humour” that defined the 1990s TFI Friday, including infamous segments like the “Fat Lookalikes”. The original’s chaotic energy and Britpop‑fuelled vibe have been replaced by a more restrained, if still frenetic, studio atmosphere. In terms of relevance, the series appears out of step with current trends. Unlike interview podcasts that create an intimate, off‑camera feel, Evans’ format retains the sweaty, over‑the‑top live‑TV aesthetic without delivering the depth or novelty that modern audiences expect. Overall, TFI Friday Unplugged may not reshape the UK chatshow landscape or outshine Winkleman’s high‑profile debut, but it does carve out a modest niche for nostalgia‑driven viewers. Its inexpensive production model proves sustainable, even if the show remains a modest footnote in the broader revival of British talk‑show culture.

Olivia Rodrigo returns with “Drop Dead,” a single that instantly grabs listeners with a razor‑sharp lyric about online stalking and instant infatuation. The opening couplet—“One night I was bored in bed / And stalked you on the internet”—sets a tone of modern romance that feels both playful and unnervingly catchy.The 23‑year‑old, who burst onto the global stage in 2021 after a Disney Channel stint, has built a reputation for “acute, obsessive” love songs that balance self‑awareness with raw emotion. Her debut “Drivers License” cemented her as a heartbreak anthem, while the pop‑punk edge of her first album Sour and the riot‑grrrl‑infused follow‑up Guts displayed her versatility.“Drop Dead” marks a decisive pivot from the punk‑kiss‑off expectations that surrounded her recent breakup. Instead of a straightforward revenge track, the song delivers a “gorgeous rush of romantic intensity,” aiming to freeze a fleeting moment before plunging back into it with relentless momentum.The track’s production, helmed by longtime collaborator Dan Nigro, layers lush strings and bright power‑pop guitars, creating a sound that feels “one bauble short of festive.” Critics note a vocal delivery that stays in Rodrigo’s highest register throughout the chorus, with melodic bends that echo both Chappell Roan’s maximalism and Taylor Swift’s signature style.Visually, the music video—directed by Petra Collins and filmed at the Palace of Versailles—portrays Rodrigo as a runaway figure reminiscent of Sofia Coppola’s “Marie Antoinette” and Emma Corrin’s Diana in “The Crown.” The lavish setting amplifies the song’s theatricality.Adding a rock pedigree, the single includes a subtle nod to Rodrigo’s friendship with The Cure’s Robert Smith, referencing his classic “Just Like Heaven.” Their rapport, highlighted in a recent Vogue cover story, underscores Rodrigo’s expanding artistic circle.Overall, “Drop Dead” blends maximalist pop production, romantic lyricism, and rock‑infused credibility, delivering a track that feels both instantly addictive and deliberately chaotic—mirroring the messy emotions it portrays.

Israel has escalated its attacks on medical workers in Lebanon, with a recent 'quadruple tap' killing four medics and wounding six others. The attacks, which have been condemned by the Lebanese health ministry and the World Health Organization, have left healthcare workers in Lebanon feeling vulnerable and under attack.The 'quadruple tap' occurred when Israeli forces targeted an initial airstrike site, then hit the ambulances and medical workers who responded to the scene, and finally struck again twice more. This tactic has been criticized as a blatant violation of international humanitarian law, which protects medical workers and facilities.The Lebanese health ministry has accused Israel of deliberately targeting ambulance crews, stating that 'paramedics have become direct targets, pursued relentlessly in a blatant violation that confirms a total disregard for all norms and principles established by international humanitarian law.'The attacks have resulted in the deaths of 91 healthcare workers and the wounding of 214 others in Lebanon since the Israel-Hezbollah war started on March 2. The World Health Organization has called for the immediate protection of healthcare facilities, health workers, ambulances, and patients.The Israeli military has not provided justification for its repeated attacks on medical infrastructure and workers, apart from accusing Hezbollah of using ambulances and hospitals to transport fighters and weapons, without providing evidence for the claim.

The government touts the British industrial competitiveness scheme (Bics) as "bold action" to sharpen the United Kingdom’s industrial edge, offering up to a 25% reduction in electricity bills for firms operating in eight "modern" sectors of its industrial strategy. Union leader Gary Smith of the GMB immediately challenged the claim, warning that gas‑intensive industries such as ceramics and brickmaking have been "shamefully ignored" and left out of the support package. At a cost of roughly £600 million a year for 10,000 companies, the scheme is widely viewed as a modest drop in the ocean. While the rollout has been broadened from the originally announced 7,000 firms and now includes a back‑dated claim period starting in April 2025, the financial scale remains limited. Eligibility is deliberately intricate: firms must belong to a "frontier" or "foundational" industry and meet strict electrical‑intensity thresholds for specific product lines. Those that qualify receive relief from three policy charges on their electricity bills, including two green levies, amounting to up to £40 per megawatt‑hour. Two broader observations emerge. First, the programme marks the clearest governmental admission to date that the UK’s business energy costs – the highest among developed economies – are eroding competitiveness. The stated ambition is to bring electricity prices for the targeted sectors in line with European averages. Second, policymakers are beginning to untangle the web of levies that inflate bills. The carbon price support mechanism, a charge on generators passed through to consumers, is slated for abolition by April 2028, after it helped phase coal out of the grid. Nevertheless, the £600 million figure underscores a deeper debate about how to fund the energy transition and new grid infrastructure. Countries such as Germany absorb a larger share of policy costs through general taxation to keep industry competitive, whereas the UK has traditionally shifted those costs onto electricity bills. The Bics announcement signals a tentative shift toward rebalancing, but the scale remains modest. In an ideal, fiscally unconstrained scenario, a broader scheme could run into the billions and target a wider swath of industry. Treasury officials, however, remain skeptical that a larger outlay would generate sufficient long‑term growth and tax revenue to justify the expense, a view reportedly shared by Chancellor Rachel Reeves. Ultimately, Bics can be seen as an unsatisfactory stopgap. It acknowledges that soaring electricity prices are a structural problem but confines the remedy to a narrow slice of the economy, leaving the broader competitiveness challenge largely unaddressed.

Aaron Pierre delivers a storming, almost hypnotic performance as Randle P. McMurphy, instantly igniting the stale atmosphere of a 1960s American psychiatric ward. His swagger‑filled stride and sudden, childlike scampers create a compelling contrast that keeps the audience on edge.From the opening moments, McMurphy clashes with the authoritarian Nurse Ratched (Olivia Williams), provoking the other patients to rebel, play, and celebrate life beyond the ward’s walls. Pierre’s physicality—alternating between boisterous hugs and a frantic, vulnerable laugh—captures the character’s chaotic charisma.Director Clint Dyer, fresh from his acclaimed 2022 Othello, reshapes the narrative by casting the inmates almost entirely with Black actors. This choice injects a fresh political dimension, turning the patients into “pawns in a system designed to disempower.” Each time Ratched addresses them as “boys,” the line feels like an implicit sneer.While the script does not overtly discuss race—apart from Chief Bromden’s (Arthur Boan) Indigenous background—the production foregrounds the systemic misogyny embedded in both the novel and the 1963 Dale Wasserman adaptation. McMurphy’s mantra, “I fight and fuck,” teeters between liberated individualism and a problematic reclamation of alpha‑male tropes.Olivia Williams, who stepped into the role of Nurse Ratched late in rehearsals, gives the character a “ramrod spine and starched smile.” Her performance underscores the unchecked cruelty of a regime where the doctor (Matthew Steer) is a peripheral, snickering figure, leaving Ratched’s authority unchecked and increasingly vicious.Ken Kesey’s own experience as a government‑run LSD guinea‑pig informs the play’s visceral critique of psychiatry. The production’s lighting, designed by Chris Davey, erupts in scarlet and blue hues that echo the anti‑psychiatry movement of the 1960s, while the depiction of medication, group therapy, and electroconvulsive therapy feels deliberately brutal.Staged in the round at the Old Vic, the audience becomes a “ring of often appalled observers.” Ben Stone’s set design, with its white and pond‑green tiles beneath a soaring ceiling, creates a claustrophobic floor that simultaneously aspires upward—mirroring the characters’ yearning for freedom.The ensemble, led by Giles Terera’s refined Dale Harding, adds subtle layers of tension through nuanced tics and gestures. Dyer bookends the show with a reference to Congo Square in New Orleans, a historic site of Black and Indigenous resistance, framing the play’s cruelty through a lens of cultural resilience—though the production remains largely filtered through a male gaze.The production runs at the Old Vic until 23 May 2026, offering London audiences a bold, politically charged reinterpretation of a classic American drama.

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.

"Bloody unacceptable" – those were the words of UN humanitarian chief Denise Brown as she condemned the failure to halt a war that has now entered its fourth year. The conflict, which began with rival generals overthrowing Sudan’s civilian leadership, has eclipsed global crises in Ukraine, Gaza and Iran, yet remains largely ignored. The Berlin‑hosted international conference aims to inject urgency into a situation where tens of thousands have been killed, four million have fled abroad, and millions more are internally displaced. Roughly 30 million Sudanese – more than half the population – now face acute food insecurity, and large swathes of Khartoum lie in ruins. Violence has not abated. The paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF), led by Gen. Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, have established a rival administration in western Sudan. In the siege of El Fasher, an estimated 10,000 civilians were massacred – a UN mission described the atrocity as bearing the hallmarks of genocide. Both the RSF and the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) under Gen. Abdel Fattah al‑Burhan have deliberately targeted civilians, carried out summary executions, tortured detainees and increasingly employed drones to devastate urban areas. Gen. Burhan, whose government enjoys international recognition, refuses any compromise, insisting the RSF must first disarm and retreat to camps before any national dialogue. The RSF, meanwhile, demands a new federal system and the removal of Islamist elements – a stance that directly challenges Burhan’s coalition. In September, a US‑led mediation team that included Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates and Egypt outlined a tentative roadmap: a humanitarian truce leading to a cease‑fire and subsequent political talks. Yet the United States has shown little appetite to prioritize Sudan, and the plan sidestepped the most contentious issues. The deeper scandal, according to diplomats and analysts, is the role of external actors in sustaining the war. Despite denials, the UAE is widely reported as the principal backer of the RSF, while Saudi Arabia and Egypt back Burhan’s forces. Recent Yale research points to Ethiopian collusion with the RSF, raising fears of a broader regional conflagration. European states, which previously funded Sudanese security to curb migration, have inadvertently strengthened the RSF and supplied weapons now used on the battlefield. The ongoing Iran‑Israel conflict further hampers relief efforts, inflating costs and limiting aid deliveries. Community kitchens that once fed countless families are disappearing – more than 40 % have closed in the past six months. The Berlin delegates must therefore boost support for Sudan’s grassroots mutual‑aid networks, but humanitarian assistance cannot replace a durable peace. Pressure on the UAE and other geopolitically motivated actors is essential if the international community hopes to halt the suffering of millions of Sudanese.

Endless Cookie arrives as a daring, hand‑crafted animation that immerses viewers in the everyday chaos of a Canadian Cree household in the remote Shamattawa First Nation. The project, conceived and voiced by half‑brothers Seth and Peter Scriver, took nine years to complete, a fact the film humorously acknowledges through its meta‑narrative and frequent self‑parody. The visual style feels like a cross between Cheech and Chong antics and the digressive storytelling of Tristram Shandy, with scenes that oscillate between vivid surrealism and grounded family moments. From a post‑apocalyptic Toronto backdrop to a sprawling story map described as “bulging like a distended colon,” the animation pushes the boundaries of conventional indie filmmaking. Beyond its eccentric humor, the film tackles weighty themes with a wry yet respectful tone. It shines a light on police racism and historic land theft, while celebrating ancestral continuity and community resilience. The narrative deliberately sidesteps the Scrivers' own cultural positions, allowing the Indigenous perspective to remain front and centre. Key vignettes include a chaotic caribou stakeout, a punk‑era flashback to 1980s Toronto, and a bizarre encounter with a clingy snowy owl—each episode underscored by the presence of the family’s twelve dogs, two of which are humorously named Cheech and Chong. The film’s funding source even appears as a talking slide rule, adding another layer of self‑referential comedy. Critics have likened the animation’s energy to a “SpongeBob SquarePants episode after an afternoon of smoking DMT,” while also noting its lineage to the counter‑cultural spirit of Fritz the Cat. The result is a work that feels both hallucinatory and deeply affectionate toward its subjects. Endless Cookie becomes available for streaming on Mubi starting 17 April, offering audiences a rare glimpse into a vibrant, self‑determined Indigenous narrative that challenges mainstream cinematic conventions.

In a fresh University of Massachusetts and YouGov poll of 1,000 U.S. adults conducted in early April, country‑music legend Dolly Parton emerged as the most favorably viewed global figure, securing a 70% favorable rating and only 5% unfavorable, translating to a net favorability of +65%. Former President Barack Obama ranked second with a net favorability of +14% (50% favorable, 36% unfavorable). Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy followed closely, posting a net favorability of +12% after 35% of respondents expressed a favorable view and 22% an unfavorable one. Other political figures fared poorly: former President George W. Bush earned a modest +5% net score, while Donald Trump and Joe Biden registered negative net favorabilities of ‑18% and ‑19% respectively. Pop star Taylor Swift managed a modest +3% net rating, and Russian President Vladimir Putin landed at the opposite extreme with a stark ‑65% net favorability. Parton’s dominance is notable not only for the size of the margin—over 50 percentage points ahead of her nearest rivals—but also because she is the only figure, aside from Obama, for whom a majority of respondents expressed a favorable opinion. Analysts attribute Parton’s success to her deliberately apolitical public persona and extensive charitable work. In a 2017 interview, she emphasized, “Everybody knows I don’t play politics,” a stance that has helped her maintain a broad bipartisan fan base. Her philanthropic impact is substantial. The Dollywood Foundation’s Imagination Library has donated more than 270 million books to children under five across the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, Ireland, and Australia. Additional contributions include a $1 million gift to Vanderbilt University Medical Center that supported the development of the Moderna COVID‑19 vaccine, over $12 million to families displaced by the 2016 Tennessee wildfires, and ongoing funding for pediatric infectious‑disease research. Parton’s charitable achievements were recognized with the Carnegie Medal of Philanthropy in 2022**, and she was highlighted by Time as one of the most influential philanthropists of 2025. The poll’s findings suggest a public appetite for figures who embody generosity and cultural resonance without entanglement in partisan politics, underscoring a broader trend of voters gravitating toward non‑political icons in an era of heightened polarization.