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Jon McClure, the Sheffield‑born frontman of Reverend and the Makers, has taken a seat on the board of Sheffield FC – the world’s oldest football club – after joining a new minority‑ownership group with David Bianchi. The move marks the first time the musician has taken on a formal role in a football institution.McClure, a lifelong Wednesday supporter, first approached the club eight years ago but felt he wasn’t yet “in a mature enough position” to steward a cultural landmark. Since last month he has been actively reviewing the club’s operations and seeking ways to modernise a team that currently competes in the ninth tier of English football.The appointment comes as Sheffield FC enjoys a surge in interest, having recorded a club‑record league attendance of 1,172 spectators for a recent defeat to Tadcaster. The side will host the same opponents again in a Northern Counties East League playoff semi‑final after finishing third in the division.Unlike the high‑profile takeovers at Dagenham & Redbridge or Wrexham, McClure insists his approach will be “more considered”. He acknowledges the club’s history of “years of dysfunction” and warns against “putting rocket boosters on a three‑wheeler”, emphasizing a need for steady stabilisation before growth.Founded in 1857, Sheffield FC’s claim to fame is its role in codifying the modern game – a narrative McClure says is “still under‑told”. The club boasts the first football kit, the first recorded derby and a unique FIFA order of merit shared only with Real Madrid, offering “global IP opportunities”, according to the chair.To translate heritage into footfall, McClure has introduced free entry for children, hoping to lift typical matchday crowds from 300‑400 to larger numbers. He also highlights a logistical hurdle: the club’s “Home of Football” ground sits in Dronfield, Derbyshire, outside Sheffield’s city limits, prompting a long‑term ambition to relocate to a multi‑purpose venue in the city centre.McClure’s celebrity connections are already bearing fruit. He invited Sheffield music legend Richard Hawley to a recent fixture and maintains a friendly rapport with Sheffield United manager Chris Wilder, despite the historic rivalry between the city’s clubs.In a nod to modern digital culture, McClure’s brother Chris created the viral persona “Steve Bracknall”, the fictional assistant manager of the Royal Oak. When the Royal Oak played a real match at Sheffield FC, the event drew over 2,000 fans on the ground and half a million online viewers, including Robbie Williams, branding it “the biggest game in Sunday league history”.Looking ahead, McClure is keen to expand the club’s junior and women’s programmes, envisioning an “1857 Academy” that could scale globally if built on the right foundations. While a leap to the Northern Premier League is the realistic target, the broader goal is to cement Sheffield FC as a thriving community hub that honors its status as the birthplace of football.

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.

Health‑service workers have voiced strong unease after it emerged that engineers from the controversial US tech firm Palantir were issued NHS.net email accounts. Those accounts unlock a directory containing contact details for as many as 1.5 million NHS staff members, as well as access to SharePoint file‑sharing and Microsoft Teams groups used by the service. Palantir’s engineers are supporting the rollout of the Federated Data Platform (FDP), a £300 million contract awarded in 2023 to link patient records across disparate NHS systems. The government touts FDP as a cornerstone of its plan to "reinvent the NHS" by moving from analogue to digital, promising faster diagnoses, better appointment allocation and more personalised treatment. While the use of NHS email accounts by external suppliers is not unprecedented, Palantir’s reputation for AI‑driven surveillance and military‑grade technology has amplified staff, patient and human‑rights concerns. Rory Gibson, a resident doctor, warned that his personal contact details should not be accessible to a company that also works on drone‑strike systems. The Guardian has identified at least six Palantir engineers who have been given NHS.net credentials. In response, a Palantir spokesperson argued that such access is "normal practice for government suppliers" and cited official guidance that government systems are more secure than external alternatives. Palantir claims its software has already yielded measurable benefits: 110,000 additional operations, a 15.3% reduction in discharge delays and a 6.8% rise in cancer diagnoses within 28 days of referral. The company stresses that it merely provides software, with data usage remaining under NHS control and subject to strict contractual confidentiality. David Rowland, director of the Centre for Health and the Public Interest, acknowledged that granting NHS email addresses may not breach rules but highlighted the "deep ethical concerns" that Palantir’s profit‑driven model clashes with NHS values. He called for a comprehensive review of which private firms receive public‑sector funding. Some NHS staff reported being placed in virtual Teams meetings with Palantir personnel who joined using NHS credentials, without any disclosure of their employer – a practice that further eroded trust. Under the NHSmail access policy, "independent sector organisations" delivering health and social‑care services nationally may use NHSmail. An unrestricted NHS.net account can reveal staff roles, locations, workplace details and even grant access to commercial "Blue Light" discounts. Palantir’s technology is already deployed by UK police forces and the Ministry of Defence, prompting critics to warn that its "drag‑and‑drop" interoperability could facilitate state overreach, including a potential British analogue of the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency. The firm’s founders include US businessman and former Trump supporter Peter Thiel and CEO Alex Karp, both known for advocating aggressive surveillance tools. Its UK arm is led by Louis Mosley, grandson of historic British fascist leader Oswald Mosley. An NHS spokesperson reiterated that all suppliers, including Palantir, operate strictly under NHS instruction, with data access governed by robust contractual confidentiality obligations.

At 75, Suzi Quatro is still rocking with the same energy and passion that defined her glam era. Her signature scream, which has been thrilling audiences since she was a kid playing dance halls around Detroit, was on full display during her recent concert at Glasgow. The Suzi Q scream is a defining sound of the glam era, a holler of swallow-the-world desire that leaves the audience galvanized.While the opening hour of the concert was entertaining and well-paced, the second set was a bit of a mess, with tedious solos and drawn-out introductions of her eight-piece band. The highlight of the evening came when Quatro played Can the Can and Devil Gate Drive back to back, delivering a pure pop rush. However, the concert could have benefited from a few cuts, as Quatro seemed to struggle with pacing.Despite some minor issues, Quatro's performance was still thrilling, and her infectious energy was palpable throughout the evening. As she told the Glasgow crowd, 'I can still scream just as loud,' and she proved it with her powerful vocals.

Arthur Rosenfeld, 73, and Meryl Tankard, 70, open the performance by introducing themselves as “sprightly old geezers,” setting a tone of candid humor that runs through the evening. The production, ‘Kontakthof – Echoes of 78,’ is a fresh staging of Pina Bausch’s iconic 1978 work, now re‑imagined by Australian choreographer Meryl Tankard. Unlike the 2010 London run that split the piece between teenagers and senior amateurs, this rendition features the eight surviving members of the original cast—all now in their late sixties to early eighties—performing the very roles they created half a century ago. A ninth dancer was absent due to illness. Their live movements are mirrored on a large screen by the black‑and‑white film of the 1978 performance, creating a visual palimpsest where past and present dance together. The choreography, set to 1930s dance‑hall songs, remains a wry commentary on courtship, power dynamics and consent. Tankard’s direction emphasizes the passage of time, allowing audiences to witness the same steps executed by bodies that have aged, yet retain a striking vitality. Dancers such as Josephine Ann Endicott, now in her seventies, glide across the stage in silk dresses, their frames more fragile but their confidence undiminished. Moments of poignancy arise when the film shows cast members who have since passed away. Onstage, John Giffin reaches for his late partner’s face, only to grasp empty air—a visual metaphor for loss that resonated deeply with the audience. Personal revelations punctuate the performance: Beatrice Libonati, 71, describes herself as “paranoid and a misanthrope,” while Tankard admits, “I wish I’d had children; I miss my mother every day,” underscoring the undercurrent of longing that runs through the piece. Beyond its narrative, the production offers a meditation on continuity. Bausch’s signature walking patterns—slow circles and linear traverses—are repeated, suggesting that despite changing bodies, the human species continues to tread familiar social routes. The music, unchanged from the original, carries on until the final dancer pauses, symbolising the inevitable end of the dance of life. The show runs at Sadler’s Wells, London through 11 April, offering a rare glimpse into how art can bridge generations and celebrate the endurance of the human spirit.

Time‑Sensitive OfferThe discount window closes on April 10 at 11:59 p.m. PT. Early registrants can save up to $482 per pass, and groups can claim an additional 30% off bundle passes. If the standard pass price is $1,200 (typical for prior years), the $482 reduction equates to roughly a 40% discount, a significant cost saving for startups and investors alike.Event OverviewDates: October 13–15, 2026 (core conference) with side events October 11–17.Location: Moscone West, San Francisco.Attendance: 10,000+ founders, tech leaders and VCs.2025 Highlights: 20,000+ curated meetings, 10,000+ Expo Hall attendees.Key OpportunitiesStartup Battlefield 200: 200 selected early‑stage startups compete for $100,000 equity‑free funding and direct access to tier‑one VCs.Sector Tracks: AI, scaling, fintech, climate and more, delivering 200+ on‑stage conversations.Exhibitor Showcase: Over 300 startup exhibitors in the Expo Hall, providing high‑traffic exposure.Networking Tech: New targeted matchmaking tools to improve connection efficiency.Financial Impact of Early RegistrationAssuming a baseline pass price of $1,200, the $482 early‑bird discount reduces the cost to $718, freeing capital that can be redirected to product development or runway extension. For a team of five, the collective saving reaches $2,410, enough to cover a modest marketing campaign or a short‑term hiring boost.Action StepsRegister before the deadline to lock in the lowest rate of the year.Consider bundle passes for teams to capture the additional 30% group discount.Apply for Startup Battlefield 200 or nominate a peer startup.

Joe Eszterhas, the swaggering pitchman of 80s and 90s Hollywood, has lived a life of excess and creativity. He wrote hits like Jagged Edge and co-scripted Flashdance, earning a then-record $3m for his Basic Instinct screenplay.Eszterhas's life story is a harrowing, rollicking immigrant's tale that whisks its hero from his birth in war-torn Hungary through the refugee camps of Allied-occupied Austria to the US rust belt. He covered the Kent State massacre as a cub reporter and interviewed Charles Manson in prison.Now 81, Eszterhas is plotting a Hollywood comeback with a rebooted Basic Instinct. He received a reported $2m from Amazon MGM studios for his script and stands to make a further $2m if and when it is filmed. The new story juggles copycat serial killers with elements of the supernatural.Eszterhas has always relished a good public scrap, and his reboot is described as anti-woke. This has sparked concerns that he may be co-opted and become a political football. However, Eszterhas insists that he is not afraid of controversy and sexuality.Despite his past struggles with drinking and drugs, Eszterhas has been clean and sober for decades. He has written a 750-page memoir, Hollywood Animal, and told his Tinseltown war stories on a recent multi-part media podcast, Ugly, Irresponsible, & Childish.

Vicky López, now 19 years, 8 months and 12 days old, has already etched her name in Barcelona’s history books, featuring in over 120 matches and netting 32 goals for the club.She joined Barcelona in July 2022 at just 16, making her first‑team debut under manager Jonatan Giráldez and instantly setting a series of age‑related records – the youngest player ever to appear at Camp Nou, in the Champions League and in an el clásico. The following campaign she became the club’s youngest scorer in that iconic derby.This season López has featured in 36 games, contributing 10 goals, a tally that already matches her previous year’s output. Barcelona need a maximum of three points from their remaining five Liga F fixtures to clinch a fourth league title – which would also be López’s 11th trophy with the club – while simultaneously preparing for a Champions League semi‑final against Bayern Munich.Despite being a senior figure, López admits younger teammates such as Clara Serrajordi and Aïcha Cámara often turn to her for guidance, though she defers more complex advice to veterans Alexia Putellas and Patri Guijarro.Putellas, the two‑time Ballon d’Or winner, praised López last summer, saying, “I see myself reflected in her – her passion, drive to win and endless ambition.”López’s rise is underscored by personal tragedy; her mother succumbed to a brain tumour in 2018 when López was 11. She honors her mother after every goal, pointing skyward, a ritual that mirrors Putellas’ own tribute to her late father.After a season with Madrid CFF, where she became Liga F’s youngest ever player, Barcelona secured López on a five‑year deal. She continues to dedicate each goal to her mother’s memory.In her debut campaign at Barcelona she logged 13 appearances and scored two goals. “I never imagined playing so many matches in my first year,” she recalled, thanking Giráldez for the trust he placed in her.Initially shy, López admitted, “I wasn’t fully myself in the first training sessions, but it was a dream to train with the world’s best.”She believes the blend of youthful exuberance and veteran experience is Barcelona’s greatest asset: “I bring joy, youth and playfulness,” she said, emphasizing the importance of a balanced squad.Often likened to male prodigy Lamine Yamal, López and Yamal both sport the number 19 and light up the wing with their creativity.On the international stage, López earned her first senior cap at 17 in the Nations League and featured in Spain’s 2025 European Championship final against England. The only time she missed a national‑team camp was in May 2024, when she sat her “selectividad” exams.Looking ahead, López acknowledges she will soon carry the mantle as Barcelona transitions away from legends like Putellas and Aitana Bonmatí. “I’m still working to become the player I aspire to be, but above all I enjoy playing football and spreading happiness to fans,” she affirmed.