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A customer who invested in solar panels through Ikea's website is now £3,000 out of pocket after the collapse of the European operation of Soly, the installer's partner. The customer had signed up for the solar panels late last year, confident in the partnership with a well-known company like Ikea. Ikea had partnered with Soly to offer solar panels to customers, advertising the service on its website and promising 'Ikea pricing'. However, in February, the customer emailed Soly to check on the installation status and received an out-of-office notification. Subsequent emails bounced back, and phone numbers were no longer working. The customer discovered that Soly's European operation had gone bust, but Ikea's website still advertised the partnership, and agents assured them that Soly's UK division was still operational. However, the UK arm had entered liquidation in January, and Ikea quietly removed Soly from its website without informing customers who had paid deposits. The customer has contacted Ikea multiple times for help but received no reply. Ikea's silence has been criticized given the fanfare with which it launched its solar partnership last September. Customers were encouraged to invest in a 'better future life at home' in 'five easy steps' by applying for a free quote via the Ikea website. Soly's administrators, S&W; Group, have advised customers to register a claim, but the chance of a refund is uncertain. Unfortunately, the customer paid the deposit by bank transfer, making it unlikely that they will see their money again.

PCK Dance’s latest double‑bill, “Into the Light,” opens with a palpable tension: dancers inhale as if grasping something costly, their gazes unfixed, brows furrowed, signalling an emotional gravitas that the production amplifies with dark lighting and portentous music.Choreographers James Pett and Travis Clausen‑Knight, both alumni of Company Wayne McGregor, demonstrate why their pedigree matters. Their movement language is slick, finessed and relentlessly precise, with legs whipping to extreme angles and sequences that cascade like the “chatter of a motoring brain.” The duo’s fluency in form lets them forgo the heavy‑handed theatrical cues that often drown subtler expression.The centerpiece, the duet “In the Absence,” features Pett and Clausen‑Knight alongside third dancer Isabelle Evans. Their interplay oscillates between closeness and disconnection, tension and tenderness, hinting at loss. Evans’s decisive gestures—flexed wrists, expressive hands—act as declarations, while a striking passage sees the choreographers literally throwing her body between them, creating a kinetic flash that feels both chaotic and meticulously crafted.Music, composed by Pett with co‑composer Greg Haines, emerges live from a bank of stage‑side technology. The piano interludes give way to pitch‑less textures that evoke a “joyless, end‑of‑days” ambience. This soundscape reinforces the programme’s suggestion that the work grapples with survival in an AI‑driven future, casting the performance as a low‑key apocalypse rather than a conventional dystopia.By marrying razor‑sharp choreography with a minimalist, tech‑infused score, PCK Dance asks a vital question: in a world increasingly mediated by algorithms, what does it mean to remain truly human? The answer, if any, lies in the fleeting connections forged on stage—moments where bodies speak louder than the surrounding machinery.

Roberto De Zerbi arrived on the pitch barely half an hour before kick‑off, his black padded gilet pulled up to the neck against a biting Wearside wind. By the final whistle the chill had eased, but Tottenham’s morale had plummeted.Sunderland’s 1‑0 victory not only cemented the visitors’ place in the league’s bottom three, it also lifted Régis Le Bris’s side to 10th place with six matches left in the campaign.Facing his third managerial appointment in a single season, De Zerbi urged his squad to rediscover the high‑risk attacking ethos of former boss Ange Postecoglou – a vision that remained frustratingly out of reach on a day dominated by low‑tempo play.Long‑time Tottenham midfielder Antonin Kinsky made a rare return after his brief, infamous cameo in a 5‑2 Champions League loss to Atlético Madrid. His comeback was cut short when a second‑half head clash forced his substitution for the inexperienced Brandon Austin.Goalkeeper Guglielmo Vicario, still recovering from hernia surgery, was expected to be tested. Sunderland’s Granit Xhaka delivered a sharply inswinging corner, but Kinsky calmly palmed the ball over the bar, keeping Spurs in the game.A potential penalty for Tottenham was overturned after VAR review; replays showed Omar Alderete had won the ball cleanly, while Randal Kolo Muani’s appeal proved unfounded.Richarlison offered brief flashes of quality but failed to convert his chances, and Dutch striker Brian Brobbey – described as a “human bulldozer” – was unable to capitalise on Enzo Le Fée’s incisive passes, despite a lone fine save from the Sunderland keeper.De Zerbi’s frustration was palpable. After Dominic Solanke’s weak finish allowed Sunderland’s Robin Roefs to deny a golden‑chance in stoppage‑time, the manager pulled his gilet up over his eyes, perhaps to shield himself from the disappointment.Mid‑second‑half, former Paris Saint‑Germain defender Nordi Mukiele, back from injury, struck a 20‑yard shot that deflected off centre‑back Micky van de Ven. The ball’s change of direction left the goal‑mouth ambiguous, sparking a debate over whether the goal should be credited to Mukiele or recorded as an own‑goal.The match’s physical intensity escalated when Brobbey’s challenge led to a painful collision between Kinsky and Cristian Romero, forcing both players off – Romero in tears with a leg injury. De Zerbi also expressed anger that Brobbey, already booked, escaped a second yellow card.Despite a flurry of substitutions, Tottenham struggled to pose serious questions to Sunderland’s defence, leaving the club’s relegation hopes hanging by a thread as the season draws to its final stretch.

The play 'My Uncle Is Not Pablo Escobar' showcases creative ambition in its exploration of the experiences of Latinx women in modern London. The production features striking visuals, blending elements of a pop concert with techno beats and census data, highlighting the absence of Latinx representation in official categories.The narrative takes a fictional turn, loosely inspired by the 2012 HSBC scandal, centering on Ale, a young woman juggling her A-levels with shifts as a bank cleaner, and her investigative journalist sister Cata. Together, they recruit Lucia to go undercover and investigate the bank's exploitative practices.Despite inventive uses of props and moments of tension, the play feels like a mesh of ideas rather than a fluid narrative. The involvement of five writers and occasional voiceovers may contribute to this disjointedness. The play touches on themes of sibling tension, identity crisis, and immigration, but these elements seem somewhat disconnected.The production at Brixton House in London until May 3rd, serves as a reminder of the importance of Latinx stories on stage, particularly given the growing Latinx population in the UK. However, 'My Uncle Is Not Pablo Escobar' ultimately lacks a unifying focus, causing its message to get lost in the narrative.

Malina Lee, a 31‑year‑old wedding baker from San Antonio, joined TikTok in 2020 to pass the lockdown‑induced boredom and promote her business. Four years later, an anonymous commenter called “PickleFart” noticed an asymmetrical neck in one of her videos and suggested she check for a goiter.The tip proved accurate: doctors confirmed thyroid cancer. Lee received prompt treatment and, within a year, was declared cancer‑free. She told the outlet that her oncologist was amazed at how early the disease was caught, crediting the TikTok comment as the catalyst.Lee’s experience is part of a growing trend where TikTok’s hyper‑targeted algorithm surfaces health‑related content that resonates with users’ unnoticed symptoms. In several cases, community members have flagged potential conditions that clinicians initially missed.The “PickleFart” persona belongs to Billie Jean Tuomi, who calls herself the “thyroid avenger.” A thyroid‑cancer survivor herself (diagnosed in 2012), Tuomi now scans videos for neck asymmetry and gently advises creators to seek a thyroid panel—a blood test measuring hormone levels and antibodies. The American Thyroid Association recommends adults start routine thyroid testing at age 35, or annually for high‑risk individuals.Tuomi estimates she has flagged dozens of videos, with at least four confirmed serious thyroid issues, including Lee’s. She stresses she does not claim to diagnose, merely urges viewers to consult a physician. After a viral comment, she received a flood of private messages with neck photos, prompting her to change her username.Lee, inspired by Tuomi’s intervention, has begun commenting on other users’ videos, helping one individual discover an enlarged thyroid that required removal. She describes the process as a “domino effect” of community‑driven health awareness.Medical professionals acknowledge the double‑edged nature of this phenomenon. Craig Mittleman, director of emergency services at Lawrence + Memorial Hospital, notes a rise in patients arriving with self‑diagnoses sourced from social media. While this can empower patients to ask informed questions, it also burdens clinicians with debunking misinformation.Gender disparities amplify the issue: research shows women are more likely to seek health information online, often after feeling dismissed by traditional providers. TikTok user Tori Mosser, a 23‑year‑old filmmaker, credits a direct message suggesting chronic appendicitis for prompting surgery that resolved her chronic vomiting episodes.Both Lee and Mosser emphasize the therapeutic value of finding a supportive community on TikTok, especially for invisible or chronic illnesses that are frequently minimized in clinical settings.

After serving in Afghanistan, Army Ranger Jesse Gould developed PTSD and turned to drinking to cope. Seeking an alternative to lifelong medication, Gould discovered psilocybin in Peru, which significantly alleviated his symptoms.Gould founded the Heroic Hearts Project, a non-profit hosting ayahuasca and psilocybin retreats for veterans. The organization has helped over 1,500 veterans and their spouses without any psychotic episodes.State lawmakers are taking notice of psilocybin's potential health benefits, with Colorado, New Mexico, and Oregon legalizing it for therapeutic use. At least eight states are considering similar legislation, despite some arguing that the FDA should approve it first.Research suggests psilocybin can be safe and effective when administered with psychological support. A 2025 study found it was associated with symptomatic improvement in adults with PTSD. Clinical psychologist Joseph Zamaria notes that psilocybin can disrupt the brain's default mode network, allowing people to detach from harmful narratives.However, some experts, like Albert Garcia-Romeu, are skeptical about state-led legalization without FDA approval, citing potential unknown risks. Gould counters that the suicide rate among veterans is a pressing issue, with 35 deaths per 100,000 people in 2023, more than double the general population's rate.

This week Anthropic revealed that its latest AI system, dubbed Mythos, is so powerful that the company will not make it publicly available, arguing that the potential risks outweigh commercial incentives.U.S. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent convened senior banking executives to discuss the implications of the model, underscoring growing governmental concern over advanced AI capabilities.In the United Kingdom, Reform MP Danny Kruger wrote to the government urging an immediate dialogue with Anthropic, warning that Claude Mythos could pose "catastrophic cybersecurity risks" to the nation.Critics such as AI researcher Gary Marcus questioned the hype, suggesting that Anthropic’s co‑founder Dario Amodei may possess strong technical skills but is "graduated from the same school of hype and exaggeration" as OpenAI’s Sam Altman.Beyond the policy debate, Anthropic has mounted a striking media offensive. The startup secured a 10,000‑word profile in the New Yorker, two feature pieces in the Wall Street Journal, and a Time magazine cover that placed founder Amodei alongside the Pentagon and U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth.Co‑founder Jack Clark and Amodei appeared on separate New York Times podcasts, fielding questions about machine consciousness and the model’s potential to "rip through the economy." Their "resident philosopher" even discussed with the WSJ whether Claude, Anthropic’s commercial product used for cryptocurrency trading and missile‑target designation, possesses a "sense of self."Anthropic’s public‑relations lead, Danielle Ghiglieri, celebrated the coverage on LinkedIn, describing the Time cover as a "mad dash" that finally let the company tell its own story.However, the company’s PR triumphs have not been without missteps. In early April, Anthropic inadvertently released part of Claude’s internal source code, though it assured that no customer data or credentials were exposed.Experts remain skeptical about the unverified claims surrounding Mythos. Dr. Heidy Khlaaf of the AI Now Institute warned that the vague marketing language could be an attempt to attract investment without substantive scrutiny.Cybersecurity specialist Jameison O’Reilly acknowledged the model’s novelty but downplayed Anthropic’s assertion of discovering "thousands of zero‑day vulnerabilities," noting that in a decade of offensive operations, zero‑days were rarely needed to achieve objectives.Anthropic also faces operational constraints. The firm has imposed usage caps on its popular Claude model and now requires customers to purchase additional compute capacity for third‑party tools, suggesting that infrastructure limitations may be a practical reason for withholding Mythos.As the race to dominate the emerging AI market intensifies, Anthropic’s strategy appears to blend genuine safety concerns with a calculated publicity push, positioning Mythos as a strategic signal that the company remains "open for business" while keeping the technology under tight control.

Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban is facing a critical election that could determine the future of his 16-year rule. For the first time in his tenure, Orban's position appears uncertain, with many Hungarians seeking change.The election on Sunday will see around eight million voters choose between stability under Orban and a potential shift in power. Peter Magyar, Orban's centre-right, pro-European Union contender, has been attracting large crowds of supporters, with polls indicating his Tisza party is comfortably ahead of Orban's Fidesz.A visit by US Vice President JD Vance to Budapest and an endorsement by President Donald Trump did not seem to boost Orban's chances. Instead, public frustration over issues like the Iran war and rising prices may have cost him votes.Orban's campaign rhetoric, which includes warnings that Hungary could be dragged into the Ukraine war, has started to lose traction with long-time Fidesz supporters. Marta Bognar, a former Fidesz supporter, expressed her discontent, stating, 'We need change. If there is no change, I believe there could even be a civil war.'The opposition cites widespread corruption and a feudal system built by Orban as reasons for their support for Magyar. The outcome of the election remains uncertain due to Hungary's complex electoral system, which could favour the ruling party.

The online prediction market platform Polymarket has seen a surge in users betting on global events, including war and politics. With over $500,000 staked on whether Russia will capture Kostyantynivka, Ukraine, and millions more bet on the US-Iran conflict, the platform's influence is growing.Users, often anonymous and operating in groups on messaging apps like Discord, debate and strategize on how to profit from these events. Some critics argue that this gamification of war is immoral and can lead to manipulation of broader markets.Polymarket views itself as a source of truth, providing data on the future by allowing the public to bet on it. The platform has gained attention from major investors, including the Intercontinental Exchange, which has invested up to $2bn.However, concerns arise about the platform's decision-making process, which relies on an anonymous group of people holding a cryptocurrency token called UMA. This has led to disputes over the outcome of events and accusations of corruption.Experts warn that Polymarket's influence could extend beyond the platform, potentially manipulating larger markets and affecting institutions and pension funds.