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The musical Avenue Q has returned to the West End, bringing with it its unique blend of provocative puppetry, satire, and catchy songs. The show, which first debuted 20 years ago, has been updated to include modern references to AI, OnlyFans, and Spotify.Directed by Jason Moore, the production features a cast of actor-puppeteers, including Noah Harrison and Emily Benjamin, who bring to life a cast of lovable but flawed characters. The show's puppet designer, Rick Lyon, has created a cast of furry, Sesame Street-inspired characters that are both cute and subversive.The show's songs, written by Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx, are a highlight of the production, with numbers like If You Were Gay and Everyone's a Little Bit Racist tackling taboo subjects with humor and wit. The show's book, written by Jeff Whitty, has been updated to include modern references, adding to the show's timeless satire.While the story itself may not be especially strong, the production's sweet/subversive/manic charms make up for it. The show ends on a hopeful note, with a message that this too will pass, even for Trump.The production is running at the Shaftesbury theatre in London until 29 August.

Sanaa, Yemen – At 7 a.m., 14‑year‑old Qasim wakes, grabs a one‑metre‑by‑half‑metre white sack and heads out to collect plastic bottles, hoping to fill it by 11:30 a.m. A full sack can bring in up to 1,500 Yemeni riyal (≈ $3), which the family uses for daily meals. When Qasim returns home, he can briefly be a child again, playing football with neighbours. By evening, his 12‑year‑old brother Asem takes over the bottle‑collecting, selling the haul at night to cover dinner costs. For the siblings, school is a luxury they cannot afford. "I was in fourth grade in 2024, but I stopped because I needed to help my family," Qasim told Al Jazeera, wiping his cheeks. "Sitting in a classroom would not feed me," he added. The conflict that began in 2014 between Iran‑backed Houthis and the Saudi‑backed government has devastated Yemen’s education system. UNICEF estimates that 3.2 million school‑aged children are out of school, with another 1.5 million displaced children at risk of permanent dropout. Even though a cease‑fire was declared in April 2022, the war’s economic fallout persists. During the fourth Riyadh International Humanitarian Forum, Yemen’s Minister of Planning Waed Badhib said the war has cost the national economy **over $250 billion** and pushed unemployment to **35 %**. Parents like Qasim’s father, 48‑year‑old daily‑wage worker Abdu, no longer see education as a viable path. "Seeing a hungry child hurts more than seeing a child drop out," he said, noting that many university graduates now work as construction guards or porters. Experts warn that this short‑term coping strategy harms long‑term prospects. Mahmoud al‑Bukari, a Taiz academic, explained that forcing children into work “creates further social and economic problems for both individuals and society.” Sociology professor Afrah al‑Humaiqani stressed that denying education violates children’s rights and breeds anxiety, undermining future economic development. Infrastructure damage compounds the crisis: more than 2,400 schools are destroyed, partially damaged, or repurposed (Save the Children). Remaining classrooms are overcrowded, and teachers—many unpaid for years—are demotivated, leading to a decline in teaching quality. Fatima Saleh, a teacher in Sanaa, described educators as the "engine" of learning. "When that engine falters, students lose interest and drop out," she said, noting that unpaid salaries force many teachers to quit or seek other work. Journalist Mohammed Abdu al‑Samei argues that the cease‑fire alone cannot revive education without addressing the underlying economic collapse. International aid has also dwindled, leaving a critical funding gap for programs that once kept children in school. For Qasim, returning to a classroom is no longer realistic. He now aims to acquire a trade—painting, carpentry, or welding—to earn a living, saying, "I will not return to the classroom, but I will learn a skill that helps my family."

Big Mood returns for a second season on Channel 4, aiming to blend a serious look at bipolar disorder with broad‑scale comedy. Lead actress Nicola Coughlan reprises Maggie, now emerging from a harrowing episode of lithium poisoning that left her hallucinating and confused. The debut series introduced Maggie in the throes of a manic episode, followed by a depressive crash after she stopped her medication to protect her creative output. While the first season earned praise for its insightful depiction of mental illness, the new installment quickly pivots toward slapstick scenarios – from a militant maid of honour to a secret‑husband extortion plot – that dilute the original emotional weight. Central to the drama is Maggie’s strained bond with best friend Eddie, played by Lydia West. Their friendship, already intense in season one, becomes increasingly implausible as Eddie abandons London for California without explanation. In season two, Eddie resurfaces under the control of a dubious wellness guru named Whitney, who has siphoned her finances and seeks to erase any lingering connection with Maggie. Rather than deepening the exploration of mental health, the series now focuses on a far‑cical showdown between the two women. Maggie, now in a “stable girl” routine of retinol and Hello Fresh meals, obsessively attempts to expose Whitney as a fraud, enlisting Eddie’s friend Will – a character described as “incorrigibly nice” yet treated with contempt by both protagonists. The tonal shift raises questions about the show’s core ambition. While Coughlan delivers an empathetic performance that captures Maggie’s inner turmoil, the surrounding plotlines feel disjointed and at times toxic, especially in the portrayal of the once‑intoxicating platonic romance that now appears more destructive than supportive. Humor, inherently subjective, may still resonate with viewers who appreciate the series’ millennial‑centric chaos. However, the blend of “knockabout farce” with moments of genuine drama feels uneven, suggesting that the show’s initial promise of a heartfelt, realistic bipolar narrative has been eclipsed by over‑reaching comedic contrivances. In conclusion, Big Mood season two struggles to reconcile its dual aims. The ambitious premise that once offered a nuanced look at mental illness now feels buried beneath a barrage of gimmicks, leaving audiences to wonder whether it’s time for the characters – and perhaps the series itself – to move on.

After Bournemouth’s 2‑1 triumph over Arsenal at the Emirates on Saturday, manager Andoni Iraola celebrated with a broad smile, acknowledging the win as the third victory in four encounters with the league leaders and a clear sign that his project is gaining momentum. Having risen from administration to the Premier League under Eddie Howe, the Cherries have long been viewed through the lens of Howe’s legacy. Iconic moments such as the 2019 4‑0 demolition of Chelsea cemented that era. Following Howe’s 2020 relegation, a succession of domestic appointments – Jason Tindall, Jonathan Woodgate, Scott Parker and Gary O’Neil – produced mixed outcomes, with O’Neil’s dismissal after a respectable finish highlighting the club’s desire for a new direction under owner Bill Foley. Iraola arrived from Athletic Bilbao, where he amassed over 500 appearances, bringing a philosophy that blends Bilbao’s directness with a British‑style width. Early on, his tenure appeared rocky: the first nine league games yielded no wins and left Bournemouth in 19th place, punctuated by a heavy 6‑1 loss to Manchester City. Yet a narrow victory over Burnley sparked a turnaround, culminating in a seven‑match unbeaten run that added 19 crucial points. Statistically, the Cherries have become more than occasional spoilers. While they previously earned just 0.42 points per game against the traditional ‘big six’, under Iraola they have improved to 1.5 points per game in both the 2024‑25 season and the current campaign, recording nine wins and seven defeats against top opposition. Their current 11th‑place standing reflects a blend of competitive resilience and entertaining football built on athleticism, work rate and on‑ball daring. The club’s on‑field evolution has translated into a remarkable transfer market windfall. Key departures include Dominic Solanke to Tottenham for £55 million, Dean Huijsen to Real Madrid for £50 million, Illia Zabarnyi to Paris Saint‑Germain for £54.5 million, Milos Kerkez to Liverpool for £40 million, Dango Ouattara to Brentford for £42 million and Antoine Semenyo to Manchester City for £62.5 million. Collectively, these sales amount to a staggering £304 million, underscoring Bournemouth’s emergence as a premier talent factory alongside clubs like Brighton and Brentford. Looking ahead, Iraola is set to depart at the end of the season, with speculation linking him to high‑profile roles at Manchester United, his native Athletic Bilbao or other continental giants. Bournemouth’s board has already identified Marco Rose – renowned for his high‑intensity approach that benefitted Erling Haaland and Jude Bellingham – as a potential successor, signaling a commitment to maintain the club’s dynamic style. In the broader context, Bournemouth’s transformation illustrates how a mid‑table Premier League side can leverage strategic coaching, a clear playing identity and savvy player development to generate both on‑field success and substantial financial returns, effectively moving beyond the shadow of Eddie Howe.

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.

Massive Attack has returned with their first single in a decade, 'Boots on the Ground', featuring the iconic voice of Tom Waits. The song is a seven-minute track that showcases the band's signature dark and experimental sound.The song's release marks a significant event in the music world, especially given Massive Attack's influential history in shaping the trip-hop genre with their debut album Blue Lines in the 90s. The band's music has since evolved to incorporate more abstract and disquieting elements, as evident in 'Boots on the Ground'.The track features a haunting intro and coda with Tom Waits's labored breathing, creating an unsettling atmosphere. Waits's vocals are unmistakable, and his presence elevates the song to a new level of intensity. The lyrics are surreal and disturbing, tackling themes of violence and authority.The song's accompanying video features the work of a documentary photographer, showcasing powerful images of Black Lives Matter protests, ICE raids, and homeless veterans. This visual component adds to the song's impact, making it a thought-provoking and timely release.'Boots on the Ground' is a fitting addition to Massive Attack's discography, reflecting the band's continued ability to push boundaries and create music that resonates with the current times. The song's dark and ominous tone, combined with Tom Waits's haunting vocals, makes it a standout track in the band's oeuvre.

Mahdieh Esfandiari, an Iranian national who was detained in France for over a year, has returned to Iran following what officials describe as a reciprocal release of French citizens held in Tehran. The University of Lyon graduate, who worked as a translator in France since 2018, was arrested in February 2025 on accusations of “promoting terrorism” after posting online comments supporting Palestine and the 2023 Hamas attack on Israel. She was sentenced to one year in prison and released on bail in October, before being transferred back to Iran in mid‑April 2026. Speaking to Iran’s state television, Esfandiari condemned the French judicial process, stating, “There is no freedom of speech in France; the court’s ruling was very unjust.” Her release coincides with the recent freedom of two French nationals, Cécile Köhler (41) and Jacques Paris (72), who had been imprisoned in Iran for more than three years on espionage charges denied by their families. Köhler and Paris were arrested in May 2022, transferred to the French embassy in Tehran after their November 2025 release, and subsequently flown to Paris via Azerbaijan. French President Emmanuel Macron’s office credited a “long‑term effort” for their liberation, noting that recent diplomatic pressure linked to the US‑Israel conflict with Iran accelerated negotiations. While French authorities have not formally confirmed a swap, Iran’s state‑run IRNA agency reported that Tehran reached an agreement with Paris to exchange the French detainees for Esfandiari. The episode underscores the delicate balance of Iran‑France diplomatic ties and highlights how geopolitical tensions can influence individual human‑rights cases. Analysts suggest the exchange may set a precedent for future negotiations involving political prisoners, illustrating both the leverage of diplomatic channels and the ongoing challenges faced by activists and foreign nationals caught in broader geopolitical disputes.

Just a decade ago, cord‑cutters imagined a utopia where any game could be streamed on any device for a single, affordable price. Today, that vision has morphed into a bewildering web of platforms, blackouts and fees that strain even the most devoted fans. Major League Baseball illustrates the chaos. The Yankees’ local market now requires fans to juggle seven different providers, from traditional broadcasters to Apple TV and niche apps. A season‑long Gotham Sports App pass costs $119.99, while Amazon’s Prime Video charges $14.99 per month (or $139 annually) for exclusive rights to 21 Wednesday games. Netflix, at $19.99 per month, aired the opening‑night matchup between the Yankees and Giants. Adding these together, a die‑hard fan could face a bill of roughly $800 to watch every Yankees game this year, according to a calculation by The Athletic. Even Apple’s own streaming chief, Eddy Cue, admitted the market has regressed: “You used to buy one subscription, your cable subscription, and you got pretty much everything they had. Now, there’s so many different subscriptions, so I think that needs to be fixed.” MLB commissioner Rob Manfred proposes centralising local rights by 2028, hoping to curb the splintered landscape. Yet legacy broadcasters and tech giants continue to chase lucrative deals. The NBA’s recent 11‑year, $76 billion media contract with Disney/ESPN, Amazon and NBC underscores how high the stakes have become. Rights fees are increasingly volatile. ESPN reportedly paid $550 million annually for Sunday Night Baseball, only to see MLB strike a $10 million per‑year deal with Roku for the same slot. Netflix is said to spend $50 million per season for three years to air marquee events such as Opening Night and the Home Run Derby. The NFL, the most valuable league, embraces fragmentation as a revenue strategy, distributing games across CBS, Fox, NBC, ESPN/ABC, Prime Video, the NFL Network, YouTube and Netflix. By packaging boutique game bundles for streamers, the league extracts “significantly more money” beyond its core media rights. Beyond cost, the viewer experience is eroding. In‑game advertising now blankets pitches and ice rinks, while “hydration breaks” at the World Cup will feature mandatory ad slots. Streamers counter with ad‑free premium tiers, but those come at a premium comparable to airline baggage fees. Financial pressures are evident. Peacock added 44 million paying subscribers in Q4 2025, yet reported a staggering $552 million loss, largely due to expensive NBA and NFL rights. Dazn, another global sports streamer, has accumulated billions in operating losses since launch. Industry analysts warn that over‑commercialisation could alienate casual viewers, especially younger audiences with shrinking attention spans who prefer short‑form clips on platforms like TikTok. As Anthony Palomba of the University of Virginia notes, “The prospect of watching a three‑hour game versus getting bite‑sized highlights on TikTok is difficult.” Data‑driven, AI‑powered programmatic ads promise higher monetisation, turning moments—like Steph Curry’s game‑winning three‑pointer—into instant shopping opportunities. Amazon, for example, leverages its ecosystem to track the full consumer journey from view to purchase. One potential remedy is a consolidated “one‑stop‑shop” that bundles multiple sports feeds, aiming to reverse the so‑called “enshittification” of streaming services—a term coined by Cory Doctorow to describe platforms that sacrifice quality for profit. While nostalgia for the era of a single cable package persists, experts caution against romanticising the past. As former NBA commentator Jon Lewis observes, “The old days were complicated in their own ways; today’s challenge is to balance revenue with a sustainable, fan‑friendly experience.”

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.