Former Radio 1 DJ pleads not guilty to a total of 15 charges at Southwark crown court

Tim Westwood has pleaded not guilty to four counts of rape, nine counts of indecent assault and two counts of sexual assault.

The former DJ stood in the glass dock with his hands clasped in front of him as he was arraigned on all 15 counts, at Southwark crown court.

Continue reading...

Former Radio 1 DJ pleads not guilty to a total of 15 charges at Southwark crown court

Tim Westwood has pleaded not guilty to four counts of rape, nine counts of indecent assault and two counts of sexual assault.

The former DJ stood in the glass dock with his hands clasped in front of him as he was arraigned on all 15 counts, at Southwark crown court.

Continue reading...

Former Radio 1 DJ pleads not guilty to a total of 15 charges at Southwark crown court

Tim Westwood has pleaded not guilty to four counts of rape, nine counts of indecent assault and two counts of sexual assault.

The former DJ stood in the glass dock with his hands clasped in front of him as he was arraigned on all 15 counts, at Southwark crown court.

Continue reading...

Linbury theatre, London
An alter ego of the Nirvana frontman is hounded by a stream of fans, friends, Jehovah’s Witnesses, deliveries and even a private investigator

We first see him clambering around, slowly, under the scaffolding that supports his crumbling home (part doll’s house, part squat). He mutters constantly. In one scene he falls suddenly out of a kitchen cupboard. In another, he pulls his lurid green coat closed over his head, childlike in his efforts to disappear.

Blake is the deeply troubled protagonist of Oliver Leith and Matt Copson’s 2022 opera Last Days, based on Gus Van Sant’s film of the same name . With his 90s grunge-icon blond hair and baggy jeans, Blake is unmistakably the alter ego of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain: these imagined last days are his. But it is what we hear in Leith’s operatic version, revived for the first time at the Royal Opera’s Linbury theatre, that transforms this depiction of a person undone into something truly disturbing.

Continue reading...

Linbury theatre, London
An alter ego of the Nirvana frontman is hounded by a stream of fans, friends, Jehovah’s Witnesses, deliveries and even a private investigator

We first see him clambering around, slowly, under the scaffolding that supports his crumbling home (part doll’s house, part squat). He mutters constantly. In one scene he falls suddenly out of a kitchen cupboard. In another, he pulls his lurid green coat closed over his head, childlike in his efforts to disappear.

Blake is the deeply troubled protagonist of Oliver Leith and Matt Copson’s 2022 opera Last Days, based on Gus Van Sant’s film of the same name . With his 90s grunge-icon blond hair and baggy jeans, Blake is unmistakably the alter ego of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain: these imagined last days are his. But it is what we hear in Leith’s operatic version, revived for the first time at the Royal Opera’s Linbury theatre, that transforms this depiction of a person undone into something truly disturbing.

Continue reading...

Linbury theatre, London
An alter ego of the Nirvana frontman is hounded by a stream of fans, friends, Jehovah’s Witnesses, deliveries and even a private investigator

We first see him clambering around, slowly, under the scaffolding that supports his crumbling home (part doll’s house, part squat). He mutters constantly. In one scene he falls suddenly out of a kitchen cupboard. In another, he pulls his lurid green coat closed over his head, childlike in his efforts to disappear.

Blake is the deeply troubled protagonist of Oliver Leith and Matt Copson’s 2022 opera Last Days, based on Gus Van Sant’s film of the same name . With his 90s grunge-icon blond hair and baggy jeans, Blake is unmistakably the alter ego of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain: these imagined last days are his. But it is what we hear in Leith’s operatic version, revived for the first time at the Royal Opera’s Linbury theatre, that transforms this depiction of a person undone into something truly disturbing.

Continue reading...

The use of airport lounges is soaring, born of a desire to feel a bit special. The reality is we’re all going to end up crammed into the same awful, environmentally disastrous metal tube

The New Yorker has published a deliciously fact-stuffed long read on the airport lounge : there are more than 3,500 worldwide, of which 37 are in Suvarnabhumi airport in Bangkok. American Airlines opened the first in 1939 and called its VIP members “admirals”.

There are almost more admirals than ordinary seamen now (a weird metaphor in an air travel context, yes; blame American Airlines). The “mostly low- and mid-tier” lounge network Priority Pass saw a 31% increase in usage last year , including me: my credit card came with this seemingly seductive perk. I was thrilled to join the global elite in what I imagined would be a cashmere and champagne cocoon, saved from the usual three hours (my husband is one of those travellers) crouched by a bin in the purgatorial wasteland of Manchester Terminal 3, nursing a half-frozen Boots falafel wrap.

Continue reading...

When abuse occurs, the first instinct is too often containment. We know this pattern because we have seen it ourselves

For years, Jeffrey Epstein conjured a kind of grotesque fascination: the private island, the powerful friends, the whispered allegations. But focusing on the lurid details of his life and eventual death obscures the far more unsettling truth his case lays bare. Epstein’s story is not really about one man’s depravity. It is about a system – legal, cultural, and institutional – engineered to protect the powerful through silence. His crimes thrived not because they were hidden, but because the people who knew were coerced, encouraged, or more than willing to shut up.

Silence was not incidental to Epstein’s success. It was central to it. And in this, he was hardly unique.

Gretchen Carlson is a journalist, bestselling author and internationally recognized advocate for women’s rights. Julie Roginsky is a champion of women’s rights and political consultant. Carlson and Roginsky co-founded the nonprofit Lift Our Voices, dedicated to eliminating silencing mechanisms like forced arbitration and NDAs for toxic workplace issues

Continue reading...

When abuse occurs, the first instinct is too often containment. We know this pattern because we have seen it ourselves

For years, Jeffrey Epstein conjured a kind of grotesque fascination: the private island, the powerful friends, the whispered allegations. But focusing on the lurid details of his life and eventual death obscures the far more unsettling truth his case lays bare. Epstein’s story is not really about one man’s depravity. It is about a system – legal, cultural, and institutional – engineered to protect the powerful through silence. His crimes thrived not because they were hidden, but because the people who knew were coerced, encouraged, or more than willing to shut up.

Silence was not incidental to Epstein’s success. It was central to it. And in this, he was hardly unique.

Gretchen Carlson is a journalist, bestselling author and internationally recognized advocate for women’s rights. Julie Roginsky is a champion of women’s rights and political consultant. Carlson and Roginsky co-founded the nonprofit Lift Our Voices, dedicated to eliminating silencing mechanisms like forced arbitration and NDAs for toxic workplace issues

Continue reading...