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The Comeback That Never MaterializedJust over a year ago, Lizzo appeared on Saturday Night Live, announcing a new album called Love in Real Life in grandstanding style. Wielding an electric guitar, clad in a Trump-baiting T-shirt that read Tariffied, she performed its title track and two other new songs, Still Bad and Don't Make Me Love U. As with her appearance earlier the same week on a late night talkshow – during which she ran into the audience to high-five fans who were yelling "we love you Lizzo!" – it looked very much like a defiant comeback, fit to drag her out of the controversy that erupted at the end of her hugely successful 2023 world tour. Three former backing dancers and a costume designer filed lawsuits against the singer alleging harassment and discrimination: damaging claims given how Lizzo's songs have preached a message of inclusivity, body positivity and self-confidence. Some of the allegations were dismissed by a judge but others are ongoing; Lizzo has refused to settle out of court, saying: "I'm fighting the case because I know that it's not true."The Album That Never WasBut the Love in Real Life single, a pivot towards rock that owed a little to Tom Petty's American Girls – or the Strokes' American Girls-indebted Last Nite if you prefer – failed to make the charts, a far cry from the period between 2018 and 2022 when Lizzo's singles seemed to go multi-platinum as a matter of course. The same fate befell Still Bad, a track much more in the vein of her big hits, prompting a rethink. The album was pulled, Lizzo apparently taking control of her own destiny – "I need to do shit my way". A mixtape that returned her more-or-less to where she started, before pop stardom came calling – punchy hip-hop, albeit tricked out with guest appearances from Doja Cat and SZA – appeared in its place: My Face Hurts from Smiling received mixed reviews and underwhelming streaming figures.A Career at a CrossroadsAll of which means that Bitch, her fifth album proper, lands at a deeply peculiar juncture in Lizzo's career. Given that the public apparently don't want her going rock, nor rapping in the style of her 2013 debut Lizzobangers, nor indeed making the kind of music they were buying in their millions three years ago, the question of what they actually do want has presumably hung heavy over its making.Musical Identity CrisisLizzo hasn't come up with a definitive answer. Bitch tries a bit of everything, from pastiching Tame Impala on Happy 2 Be to making clipped new-wave rock decorated with Cure-like guitars on She Stole My Man; Sexy Ladies is a girls-night-out-soundtracking reiteration of the old body positivity message. This scatter-gun approach makes Bitch a disjointed listen.The Subdued ToneMoreover, there's something oddly subdued about its tone, whether it's dabbling in 80s retro – Don't Make Me Love U brings to mind the arena-rousing keyboard hook from Tina Turner's The Best, but renders it into a distant, affectless backing vocal – or delving into jazzy R&B; on Too Nice. The vibraphone-heavy beat on the latter is fantastic, rich in small-hours atmosphere, but the actual song feels nondescript: it only really comes to life in its dying moments, when Lizzo stops singing and starts playing a flute solo. The title track interpolates the chorus from Meredith Brooks' 1997 pop-grunge hit of the same name, but somehow flattens it in the process. Crooned over smooth, G-funky R&B;, it feels stripped of its fiery power, less of a snarl and more of a shrug.Equivocal LyricsThe lyrics often seem similarly equivocal. You don't want for apparent references to Lizzo's recent woes – "I hope it makes you happy to hurt somebody else", "the thing about depression, you think your life is over", "you'd still be working at the mall if it wasn't for me" – but they ultimately feel neither pugilistic nor racked, just confused and sore: "I have feelings too," she sings on piano ballad A Toast.Highlights Amidst the StruggleNot everything here is underwhelming: Whose Hair Is This is a great southern soul pastiche, home to an impressively raw vocal and a snappy plot twist at the end of the lyrics; That Grrrl employs an old-school Chicago house bassline to energising effect. But what's definitely lacking is an unequivocal pop smash, the kind of thing that Lizzo once seemed to be able to write to order.A Changing Cultural LandscapePerhaps that's inevitable. One of the reasons Lizzo hit so big in the first place was that she made pop music that perfectly captured a zeitgeist, and that zeitgeist has moved on: the era of body positivity has been displaced by the era of Ozempic and Mounjaro; the kind of post-pandemic, post-Trump optimism embodied on 2022's About Damn Time now sounds like a transmission from a distant lost age. We're living in a different world now, and Bitch suggests Lizzo has yet to work out how to respond to it: "I'm doing my best," she sings on A Toast, which feels like the most telling lyric of all.

Lead: A Surge of Online Abuse Targets Two Female MusiciansCMAT and Olivia Rodrigo have each become the focus of a wave of hateful comments about their bodies after high‑profile performances in 2026. The incidents reignite a long‑standing debate over who gets to decide how women should look on stage.BBC Radio 1 Big Weekend Incident Highlights Persistent Body‑ShamingDuring CMAT’s set at BBC Radio 1’s Big Weekend in Sunderland, the broadcaster disabled Instagram comments because of the vitriolic remarks aimed at her size. Smaller‑bodied female performers at the same festival retained active comment sections, underscoring a double standard. CMAT described the experience as "deep sadness" and linked it to a similar episode she endured at the same festival two years earlier.Olivia Rodrigo faced a different but equally hostile reaction when she appeared in a babydoll‑style dress for her new album promotion. Critics called the outfit "pedo bait" and "Lolita," despite her history of performing in more revealing attire without similar outrage.Absence of Quantitative Data Underscores the Qualitative Nature of the OutrageNo specific comment counts or engagement metrics were released by the platforms.The Guardian article relies on anecdotal evidence and artist statements rather than hard numbers.This lack of hard data highlights that the issue is measured more by cultural impact than by statistics.Why This Signals a Wider Cultural Backlash Against Women’s Public ImageThe two cases illustrate a broader conservative retrenchment around femininity, where any deviation from a narrow, youthful ideal is quickly weaponised. Social‑media bots and coordinated campaigns appear to amplify misogynistic narratives, limiting the visual vocabulary available to female artists.Both musicians argue that their sartorial choices are intentional artistic statements—CMAT’s “countrified burlesque” and Rodrigo’s homage to 90s punk‑era “kinder‑whore” aesthetics—yet the public discourse reduces them to objects of scrutiny.What the Future May Hold for Female Artists Navigating the Male GazeIf platforms continue to silence or enable hateful commentary selectively, female performers may feel pressured to self‑censor or conform to safer visual norms. Conversely, heightened visibility of these incidents could galvanise industry allies and push social‑media firms to enforce stricter harassment policies.Ultimately, the trajectory will depend on whether the music community and audiences choose to champion artistic autonomy over entrenched misogynistic expectations.

Lead: Euphoria’s third season as a mirror of a nihilistic generationThe latest season of Euphoria has turned into a relentless feed of meme‑ready moments, from OnlyFans storylines to snake attacks, that echo the outrage‑driven attention economy shaping today’s youth.Season three’s shock‑value tactics and controversial storylinesSet five years after high‑school, the series piles on sensational set‑pieces – pup play, sugar‑daddy deals, mummification fetishes, and a “Thotzilla” rampage – while foregrounding female characters who monetize their bodies for male pleasure. The narrative repeatedly pits empowerment against exploitation, most starkly in Cassie’s descent into viral OnlyFans content and the brutal assault of strip‑club dancer Kitty.Absence of hard metrics but cultural buzz indicatorsNo official viewership figures are cited in the article.The show’s moments have dominated social‑media feeds, spawning memes, discussion threads and “rage‑bait” headlines.Related coverage links to broader cultural debates about the manosphere, Andrew Tate and the Bonnie Blue documentary.Why the show resonates with the attention‑economy generationAccording to the review, the series captures how algorithms strip humanity by rewarding polarising content. Characters chase virality the way real‑world influencers chase followers, reflecting a cohort that grew up on figures like Andrew Tate and the Bonnie Blue documentary – both products of the same attention‑driven ecosystem.What this signals for future teen dramas and media criticismIf Euphoria continues to blend shock tactics with cultural critique, it may set a precedent for teen dramas to confront, rather than merely depict, the toxic mechanics of modern fame. The show’s willingness to expose the commodification of young women could spark deeper industry conversations about responsibility versus sensationalism.

The Rise of AI-Generated Hate OperationsScroll through any Facebook feed in Britain and, between the baby announcements and petty neighbourhood beefs, you're likely to come across an account with a union jack profile picture and a vague, generic name like Britain Today. These accounts – and there are hundreds, possibly thousands of them – present themselves as the work of British patriots. In one typical, AI-generated video, a middle-aged man claims his local cafe "has stopped serving pork, bacon and sausages just to avoid offending people". Another post from the same account includes a sepia-tinted set of images of Victorian London, mourning a time when the city "was English, first-world and beautiful". Alongside this type of reactionary nostalgia, it's not unusual to see memes that call Islam a "cancer", decry Muslims praying in public as an "invasion of the west" or promote the "great replacement theory".The Financial Incentives Behind AI Hate ContentFor the past seven months, I have been investigating who is really behind pages like these. The answer, it turns out, is often young, entrepreneurial men from south Asia. They tend to have zero interest in UK politics, but the content they create often boosts far-right talking points in Britain and contributes to the increasingly hostile atmosphere for immigrants and British Muslims. They're part of a booming cottage industry producing commercial AI slop.The financial incentives for creating this kind of content are huge, particularly for creators in the global south. At the Bureau of Investigative Journalism, we looked in detail at two very successful "sloperations" targeting British audiences from Pakistan and Sri Lanka. They make money from the online ads that Meta places next to high-performing content. Meta shares a proportion of the ad revenue with the creators and also makes direct payments to creators to reward posts that receive a lot of engagement.Once you hone your algorithmic rage bait, there's very good money to be made from slop. The Pakistani creator, a devout Muslim who we are not naming for his own safety, told us he makes $1,500 (£1,119) a month from one of his pages alone; Geeth Sooriyapura, the Sri Lankan creator, claimed to have made $300,000 over the course of his Facebook career. We weren't able to verify these figures, but both men were certainly making many times the average income in their countries.The Economic Impact of AI-Generated PropagandaTheir success represents the seductive promise of "passive income" culture, a pervasive modern gospel that says you should quit your job and make easy money online. The proponents of this philosophy also often sell courses as an additional revenue stream: Sooriyapura claimed that 2,500 people, mainly other Sri Lankans, have graduated from his content academy.Rightwing propaganda and Islamophobia are, of course, not new. But two key structural factors have made it particularly pervasive on social media.The Technological and Policy EnablersFirst, the wide availability of generative AI tools. These are used at every stage of the content creation process: to brainstorm ideas, to write captions and, most importantly, to create compelling images and videos. This is particularly helpful if, like the Pakistani creator, you do not speak English well. In one video we reviewed from Sooriyapura's Facebook course, he told his students that AI-generated videos can help political content go viral up to 10 times faster.Second is Meta's retreat from content moderation. Over the past couple of years, the major social platforms have made mass redundancies on the trust and safety teams that monitored and took down harmful content. This was partly motivated by pressure from the Trump administration, which believed that platforms had engaged in heavy-handed censorship of content during the Biden presidency.Social media companies justify the moderation job cuts by pointing to their use of AI to find harmful content more efficiently. But our reporting shows there is masses of deeply offensive content on there which anyone could find in a few minutes, if they bothered to look.The Future of Online Hate Speech and Platform AccountabilityAfter we spoke to the Pakistani creator, he said it was a "good thing" we had informed him about the nature of his posts and he deleted many of them. Sooriyapura told us that he did not encourage his students to "spread violence" and that he just educates "people on Facebook monetisation and audience-targeting".The Pakistani creator didn't cover his tracks particularly well. It took me a couple of hours and a little help from Osint Industries, a platform that collates information on social media accounts, to definitively confirm that the person who ran the Islamophobic slop account also had personal accounts in his own name sharing verses from the Qur'an. These are actions that Meta easily could have taken itself. But why would it spend good money implementing its own policies when there is so little political or regulatory pressure to do so?When we contacted Meta in both these cases, it took down many of their pages and sent a one-line statement: "We have clear community standards that prohibit hate speech, harassment, harmful misinformation and inauthentic behaviour and we have removed these accounts for violating our policies." I've been a tech journalist long enough to have been through this process with Meta and other social platforms many times before. The Sri Lanka network is, depressingly, back up and running, having faced minimal consequences after a bit of downtime.Meta can, and should, be doing more to take these kinds of accounts down. But as long as its core product is an algorithmic feed that financially rewards content that provokes extreme emotions, others will always appear in its place.

A Childhood Echo: Pettersen’s Dingo Memories Born in the 1940s to a white father and Aboriginal mother, Carol Pettersen grew up deep in the Fitzgerald River bush where the howl of dingoes marked the night. She recalls hearing the calls and spotting the “flicker of red fur” among the mallee heath, a sound she now likens to a song that carries her home. Moort Documentary Highlights Cultural Loss The short film “Moort: Calling Dingo Back to Country” (Moort means “family” in Noongar) documents the disappearance of dingoes from Western Australia’s south‑west and asks what has been lost when an apex predator is treated solely as a pest. The film features Pettersen, other custodians, and the advocacy work of Sonya Takau, founder of Dingo Culture. Filmed in both Western Australia and far‑north Queensland. Screened at the WA Parliament in February 2026. Calls for removal of dingoes from pest classifications and an end to 1080 baiting and strychnine traps. Policy Landscape: Dingoes Classified as Pests Across most of Australia, dingoes are grouped under “wild dogs” in biosecurity law, allowing landholders to kill them to protect livestock. The 5,614 km dingo fence that stretches through Queensland, New South Wales and South Australia exemplifies the entrenched pest‑management approach. Indigenous Advocacy Calls for Coexistence Takau argues that the current framework ignores both ecological benefits—such as controlling overgrazing and reducing feral‑cat pressure—and deep cultural significance for Aboriginal peoples. The campaign, supported by Alix Livingstone of Defend the Wild, proposes practical alternatives: improved fencing, guardian animals, and financial assistance for landholders to coexist with dingoes. Future Outlook: Towards Integrated Dingo Management The documentary has sparked dialogue among policymakers, farmers and Indigenous groups. If the proposed legislative changes pass, Western Australia could become a test case for a model that balances agricultural interests with cultural and ecological stewardship, potentially influencing national dingo policy.

Heartbreaking Announcement: Ted the Fishing Companion Passes AwayBBC announced that Ted, the four‑legged star of Mortimer & Whitehouse: Gone Fishing, has died at 13 years old, prompting an outpouring of grief from fans and co‑hosts alike.Ted’s Journey from Surrey Rescue to Television StarRescued from a dog’s home in Surrey in 2013 when he was just six months old, Ted quickly became a regular on the river‑based adventures of Bob Mortimer and Paul Whitehouse. Over six seasons he turned from a family pet into a beloved on‑screen companion, known for stealing Jammie Dodgers and bait.Book Success: “A Pawtobiography” Becomes a Sunday Times BestsellerIn 2024, Ted released A Pawtobiography, which climbed the Sunday Times bestseller list, cementing his cultural impact beyond television.What Ted’s Loss Means for ‘Gone Fishing’ and Its AudienceThe canine’s departure leaves a noticeable gap in the show’s dynamic. Both Mortimer and Whitehouse paid heartfelt tributes, highlighting how Ted was more than a pet – he was a “species all of his own.” Viewers are expected to feel a deeper emotional connection to the upcoming episodes.Looking Ahead: The Ninth Series and Ted’s Enduring LegacyAlthough Ted will appear for the final time in the forthcoming ninth series slated for later this year, his legacy will likely influence future storytelling, merchandise, and perhaps a commemorative segment honoring his contribution to the show’s charm.

On Monday 29 April 1996, Newcastle United’s 1‑0 win at Leeds set up a dramatic finale to the Premier League season. Manager Kevin Keegan exploded on live TV, declaring he would “love it” if Manchester United slipped, a line that has become folklore in English football. The 1996 Newcastle‑Leeds Showdown and Keegan’s Live Retort Newcastle’s victory, courtesy of Keith Gillespie, moved them three points behind Manchester United with two games left. Before the match, Sir Alex Ferguson had hinted that Leeds and Nottingham Forest would not try as hard against Newcastle as they did against United, planting a psychological seed. In the post‑match interview with Sky Sports’ Richard Keys and Andy Gray, Keegan seized the bait, delivering the now‑legendary tirade. Keegan’s exact words: “I will love it if we beat them. Love it.” The interview was recorded in a cramped broadcast hut plagued by a foul smell, only salvaged by a player’s deodorant. Fans outside Elland Road reacted by honking horns and shouting “Love it!” as the clip aired. Points, Positions and the Title Race Math The standings after the Leeds game were: Manchester United: 84 points (already crowned champions after beating Middlesbrough 3‑0). Newcastle United: 81 points, with a final‑day draw against Tottenham leaving them on 82. Leeds United: 81 points after a 1‑1 draw with Newcastle. Even if Newcastle had won their last two fixtures, United’s superior goal difference would have kept them ahead, but the psychological edge gained from Keegan’s outburst is argued to have contributed to the team’s inability to clinch the title. Psychological Warfare: Ferguson’s Mind Games vs Keegan’s Fury Ferguson’s pre‑match comments were a classic example of “dark arts” mind‑games, aiming to sow doubt in Newcastle’s confidence. Keegan’s fiery response turned the tables, exposing the tension between the two managerial styles. Former players recall the interview energising the fanbase but also adding pressure on the squad. Gillespie later said the passion showed “absolutely brilliant reaction”. Keegan later dismissed the incident as “nothing to do with mind games”, blaming Ferguson’s habit of finding excuses. Legacy of the ‘Love It’ Moment in Modern Football Culture Three decades on, the phrase is invoked whenever a rival club’s fortunes waver. It has become a cultural touchstone for passionate, outspoken managers and is frequently referenced in media retrospectives. Keegan, now 75 and recovering from cancer treatment, continues to appear at events, reminding fans that the spirit of that night endures. Looking ahead, the episode underscores how media moments can amplify on‑field narratives, a lesson modern managers heed in an era of instant‑share social platforms.

The Formation of The Primitives and 'Crash' The Primitives formed in the summer of 1984 with a singer called Keiron, who brought PJ Court in to write songs. When Keiron left, the band pinned up an advert in Coventry library and Tracy Tracy, who PJ had met before on a Youth Opportunity Programme, answered. Initially, they sounded more like the Birthday Party or the Gun Club, but PJ wrote three new songs – Through the Flowers, Across My Shoulder and Crash – to test a more pop direction. The Initial Reception and Live Performances 'Crash' was simple and noisy, with a basic guitar line that became the 'Na na na' hook. It was in their live set but dropped quickly as they thought they already had enough bubblegum, Ramones-style songs. A live review at the time stated: 'If their new single Crash is anything to go by, this band are finished.' The Resurgence of 'Crash' In 1987, their producer Paul Sampson suggested they revisit 'Crash' as bait to generate interest from record companies. The song was released again as 'Crash (The '95 Mix)' – about 40 seconds longer, with a repeated chorus and added layers of ukulele, steel guitar, organ, and percussion – and became a worldwide hit after being featured in 'Dumb and Dumber'. The Impact on The Primitives' Career The band appeared on Top of the Pops, The Roxy, and Saturday Live. PJ recalls a memorable performance on the ITV show No. 73, where his fuzz box wasn't plugged in, making his guitar sound like a banjo. The Legacy of 'Crash' PJ believes the song has stood the test of time because it's got all the ingredients: a great melody, catchy lyrics, and a perfectly timed pop song. The song has been covered by several artists, including Belle and Sebastian and Matt Willis, though some get the lyrics wrong.

The LeadWhen FIFA awarded the 2026 World Cup to a joint bid by the United States, Mexico, and Canada, the promise was one of unity, accessibility, and meaningful impact. Nine years later, that vision has been replaced by a capitalist hellscape of skyrocketing prices, political tensions, and corporate greed that stands in stark contrast to the original 'United 2026 bid' vision.The Broken Promises of the United BidThe original bid document promised 'the power of unity, the promise of certainty, and the potential of extraordinary opportunity' while emphasizing a 'shared commitment to human rights.' FIFA's own Guide to the Bidding Process specifically promised to make tickets available 'at affordable prices' to as many football fans as possible.What has emerged instead is a bait-and-switch operation that has alienated fans and strained relations between host nations. The political landscape has shifted dramatically with Donald Trump's return to the presidency, threatening to make Canada the 51st state and sending US soldiers to Mexico to attack drug cartels—positions that were unimaginable when the bid was won in 2017.The Soaring Costs of FIFA's CommercializationThe most glaring betrayal of the original vision is in ticket pricing. A single ticket to the World Cup final now costs a whopping $10,990, up from $1,600 at the Qatar World Cup in 2022. The United Bid book listed the most expensive ticket at only $1,500. After fan backlash, FIFA made available a limited number of $60 tickets, comprising just 1.6% of stadium capacity.FIFA has implemented dynamic pricing—a system designed to extract maximum value from each ticket buyer, similar to surge pricing in ride-sharing services. In the secondary market, while Mexico has capped resale prices at face value, the US and Canada have no such restrictions, with FIFA taking a 15% cut from both buyers and sellers.Other costs have skyrocketed as well:Parking prices range from $175 to $300 per spotPublic transportation costs are exorbitant—$150 for a round-trip train ride that normally costs $12.90Mass transit, which was free at previous World Cups, now requires separate paymentThe Data Collection and Privacy ConcernsBeyond financial exploitation, FIFA is collecting extraordinary amounts of personal data from stadium workers, supposedly for security reasons. The organization has indicated it may share this information with 'law enforcement agencies, intelligence agencies and other departments,' including Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). In Los Angeles, the union representing service workers is concerned this data could be used for immigration enforcement.This data collection raises significant privacy concerns and represents another departure from the human rights commitments made in the original bid.The Economic Imbalance: FIFA's Profits vs. Host Cities' CostsThe Guardian's Jonathan Liew has termed this disparity a 'FIFA premium,' where football's governing body 'siphons off virtually all the tangible profit while loading host cities with virtually all the tangible costs.' FIFA takes all ticket revenue, broadcast revenue, merchandising and concession revenue, and even parking money.Meanwhile, host cities bear all additional infrastructure costs—from fan parks to heightened security measures to police escorts. New Jersey governor Mikie Sherrill highlighted this imbalance, noting that FIFA is making an estimated $11 billion off the tournament while providing '$0 for transportation to the World Cup. Zero.'The Growing Backlash and Future OutlookHost cities are beginning to push back against these exploitative practices. New Jersey has refused to let commuters be 'taken for one,' while Los Angeles service workers represented by UNITE Here Local 11 are considering strike action over contract disputes with stadium operators.The gap between the rosy promises of 2017 and the commercial reality of 2026 has become too wide to ignore. As the tournament approaches, we can expect increased pressure on FIFA to reform its practices, greater resistance from host cities, and potentially fan boycotts of the most expensive elements. The 2026 World Cup may ultimately be remembered not as a celebration of football, but as a cautionary tale about the commercialization of sport and the broken promises of international sporting organizations.