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Jared Gordon says he “maybe” made the wrong decision to fight Rafa Garcia at UFC Noche on Saturday a day after being hit by a car.

The American lightweight, 37, was stopped in the third round by Mexican-American Garcia following a succession of elbows on the ground in San Antonio, Texas.

Gordon fought with a sleeve covering his knee before later revealing he had sprained a ligament a day earlier after being hit by a car.

“Two hours after weigh-ins I was standing in the street while a car was backing out behind me, I was looking down the street away from the car,” Gordon wrote on X., external

“The front end of the car started turning, and the right wheel ran my right foot over as the bumper started turning and buckled my knee inward, spraining my MCL (medial collateral ligament).

“I thought about pulling out, but decided not to. Was it the wrong decision? Maybe so. After a hard, good camp I didn’t wanna pull out. It is what it is. I’ll move forward. Sorry to all my fans for the performance.”

Gordon has fought 17 times in the UFC, winning nine bouts since debuting in the promotion in 2017.

Good Morning Britain has seen a string of changes recently, and one star has now made an announcement that has sparked concern among viewers.

It appears that some Good Morning Britain viewers are concerned that a familiar face might be departing the programme, amid the sweeping shake-ups at ITV.

The popular breakfast show, which recently witnessed presenter Susanna Reid praising an ITV legend live on air, revealed plans to extend their broadcast by an additional 30 minutes starting January 2026.

Additionally, the programme will be produced by ITV News at ITN from their London headquarters and created by a team operating within ITV News at ITN.

Nevertheless, it seems one Good Morning Britain presenter has strong ties to ITN, having initially joined the organisation back in 1999 before returning to their studios this weekend to present ITV news bulletins.

Charlotte Hawkins, who regularly hosts Good Morning Britain, posted on social media on Saturday, sharing a snap of her old ITN security pass alongside a more current photograph, reports Wales Online.

She wrote: “Do not adjust your sets.. a guest appearance from me presenting the @itvnews this weekend! I was first here at ITN back in 1999, working on ITN Radio, and then this security pass is from when I worked on the ITV News Channel.

“A lot has changed over the years.. including the hair! Next update is just after 10pm see you then.”

Yet her appearance sparked confusion amongst some viewers, with one person wondering what this means for her Good Morning Britain future, following a series of budget cuts.

One fan commented: “You will be there all the time soon when GMB becomes part of ITN.”

One fan queried: “Wow this is amazing Charlotte watched u this afternoon u were superb. Will we see u do more weekends in future occasionally.”

Former Good Morning Britain director Erron Gordon commented: “A much more palatable time of day for a change. Love to see this!!”

To which Charlotte responded: “Yes, bit of a change to having an early alarm!! Thanks Erron xx.”

On X, one viewer asked: “Are you leaving @gmb for @itvnews??? Was a nice surprise when I put the news on.”

Another viewer remarked: “It was lovely to see you on the early evening news, Charlotte. I thought I’d missed a career change!”

While another person noted: “It could confuse some people, imagine going for a nap, waking up and seeing you on you would think how long was I sleep.”

Good Morning Britain is available to watch on ITVX.

NEW YORK — Howard Stern, the popular and highly paid radio host, returned to SiriusXM’s airwaves Monday after trolling listeners into thinking he had departed his long-running show.

Stern, 71, who evolved from his shock jock origins to become a respected interviewer, enlisted a seemingly flustered Andy Cohen at the top of “The Howard Stern Show” to pretend to be his successor. “This was supposed to be a cleaner hand off. I’m kind of winging it,” said Cohen.

Stern then came on the air and thanked the Bravo personality, who has his own SiriusXM show and podcast, for agreeing to do the bit. The stunt was the culmination of weeks of promos that promised a big reveal, following swirling speculation that Stern’s show would be canceled. “The tabloids have spoken: Howard Stern fired, canceled,” one promo video said. “Is it really bye-bye Booey?” The speculation grew after Stern postponed his return from a summer break last week.

While he did return Monday, Stern did not announce that he had reached a new contract with SiriusXM. His current deal expires at the end of 2025.

“Here’s the truth: SiriusXM and my team have been talking about how we go forward in the future. They’ve approached me, they’ve sat down with me like they normally do, and they’re fantastic,” Stern said.

Stern joining what was then Sirius Satellite Radio Inc. in 2006 made him one of the highest-paid personalities in broadcasting and was a game-changer for both the company and the nascent satellite radio industry. His importance was highlighted on the SiriusXM homepage — tabs included For You, Music, Talk & Podcasts, Sports and Howard.

SiriusXM in the years after Stern joined has become home to top podcasts “Call Her Daddy,” “SmartLess,” “Freakonomics Radio,” “Last Podcast on the Left,” “99% Invisible” and “Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend” and features such personalities as Trevor Noah, Kevin Hart and Stephen A. Smith.

But SiriusXM’s subscriber base has been slowly contracting, with the company reporting 33 million paid subscribers in the second quarter of 2025, a net loss of 68,000 from the first quarter and 100,000 fewer than the same period in 2024. It is a battling a saturated satellite market and competition from free, ad-supported platforms like Spotify.

Stern extended his contract with SiriusXM twice before, in 2010 and again in 2020 with a five-year, $500 million deal, Forbes reported. He’s recently had newsy and intimate chats with Lady Gaga and Bruce Springsteen.

“He’s been with me and the company going on two decades, and so he’s pretty happy, but he’s also able, like many great artists, to stop whenever he wants,” SiriusXM president and chief content officer Scott Greenstein told The Hollywood Reporter in 2024. “Nobody will ever replace them. We would never try to replace them.”

Stern, who has liked to call himself the King of All Media, rose to national fame in the 1980s during his 20-year stint at the then-WXRK in New York. At its peak, “The Howard Stern Show” was syndicated in 60 markets and drew over 20 million listeners. Stern was lured to satellite radio by the lucrative payday and a lack of censorship, following bruising indecency battles with the Federal Communications Commission and skittish radio executives. His past on-air bits had included parading strippers through his New York studio and persuading the band then known as The Dixie Chicks to reveal intimate details about their sex lives.

His 1997 film “Private Parts” became a box office hit and offered a raw, humorous look at his rise to fame. He has also authored several bestselling books and served as a judge on “America’s Got Talent” from 2012 to 2015.

Kennedy writes for the Associated Press.

England all-rounder Jacob Bethell said he “probably should have played a bit more” during his testing first home summer in international cricket.

Bethell, 21, impressed in his first Test series last winter but has only played a bit-part role this summer.

Having missed the one-off Test against Zimbabwe while at the Indian Premier League, he lost his place in England’s Test XI and was the spare batter across the first four matches against India before coming in for the fifth.

He only played one County Championship match for Warwickshire in-between and as a result has only faced 387 balls in all formats this summer compared to 1,480 in 2024, leading to questions around England’s management of the talented left-hander.

“If I’m honest, when I wasn’t playing in those Tests, I should probably have played a bit more [in domestic cricket],” Bethell told Sky Sports.

“But I’ll take that on and learn from it. I’ve got a lot of cricket ahead now so maybe that gap was quite nice for me.”

Among the herd of aspiring actors who move to Los Angeles to pursue their Hollywood dreams, Manny Jacinto was sure to set modest expectations for himself.

“In my head, I was going to come here a few times,” says Jacinto, who grew up in Richmond, Canada. “I was going to try pilot [season] once, fail, come back next year, fail again, and I was going to repeat that pattern probably for the next five years until hopefully, fingers crossed, I landed something.”

In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.

But just a few months after relocating to L.A. in 2016, he nabbed a starring role in NBC’s “The Good Place,” alongside Ted Danson and Kristen Bell, and “it just changed my life,” says Jacinto, who played the lovable but not-so-bright Jason Mendoza.

Since that breakout performance, Jacinto has racked up several more acting credits including “Nine Perfect Strangers,” “Top Gun: Maverick” and “The Acolyte.” His latest film, “Freakier Friday” — the sequel to the hit 2003 film — hits theaters today.

“Little Manny, who was waking up on a Sunday [and] watching cartoons, would have never thought he’d be acting opposite Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan,” says Jacinto, who plays Eric Reyes, Lohan’s British fiancé in the film.

We caught up with Jacinto to talk about his perfect day in L.A., which he would spend with his wife and best friend, Dianne Doan. On the agenda is an intense morning workout, dinner with loved ones at a Filipino restaurant that reminds him of home and enjoying boba at the park.

This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

9 a.m.: Wake up and meditate
Ideally, I’d get up at 9 a.m. to get enough enough sleep, but also get some things done for the day. I’ll try to meditate for 10 minutes using the Calm app or just by myself. I typically don’t really eat until after 11 a.m., but if I need something in my stomach, I will make a shake. It could be as basic as protein powder, collagen and a greens powder or it can be as elaborate as all the berries, hemp seeds, beet powder and spinach.

11 a.m.: Work up a sweat
I will try and hit up some sort of workout class to get my body active. I’ve been going to this place in Glassell Park called Ganbatte Fitness and it’s a good community of people. It’s also Asian-owned and it kicks my butt. It’s probably the hardest workout that I’ve ever done in my life — not even just in L.A., like around the world. Or I’ll hit up a hot yoga class. CorePower is always a go-to. I’ll do the C2 hot power yoga class and get my sweat in.

1 p.m.: Find the best sandwich in L.A.
Afterward, I’d have my first proper meal. For some reason, I’ve been scouring L.A. for the best sandwich spots. I’ve ran into a few. One of them is Mamie. It’s an Italian sandwich spot in West Hollywood. The last sandwich that I had is the Viale Di Parma, which has fig jam. It’s really good. There’s also Bodega Park [near] Silver Lake. Their spicy chicken Caesar is solid. Then there’s a place in Frogtown called Wax Paper and it’s basically in a shipping container on a corner of the street. They have really solid sandwiches.

3 p.m.: Sip on boba at the park
We might do some retail therapy. There’s this store in Silver Lake that I found called Anonymous Ism. They have a lot of Japanese clothing, just a lot of unique and quality pieces that you don’t really see often. If I’m not doing that, I’ll go hang out at a park. Our dog, Henry, passed away in November. He, Dianne and I used to get bubble tea and hang out at Lacy Park. That would be our afternoon chill out time. We haven’t been to that park in a while partly because we would really go because of Henry. It was a tough one to get over, but we’ll definitely be back. We’d get boba from Bopomofo Cafe and I always get the strawberry corn milk. Some people think it’s weird because of the corn, but it reminds me of a Filipino or Vietnamese dessert.

7 p.m.: A meal that ‘reminds me a bit of home’
It feels like I’m just eating constantly, but I love an early dinner so we’d have dinner with friends after the park. I really love this place called Lasita in Chinatown. They’re really good people, there’s really great vibes and the food is always on point. Because I’m Filipino and it’s a Filipino restaurant, it just reminds me of a bit of home. They are always switching up the menu, but the pork belly lechon is a go-to. Either that or we’d go to one of my other favorite restaurants, which is Majordomo in the Arts District.

9 p.m.: Wind down with ‘Mario Kart’
I am 50 years old at heart, so I’m ready to pack it up. I love an early dinner and I love ending my night with “Mario Kart.” It’s a random thing that I started picking up during the pandemic. It’s kind of like my wind down. They recently released the [Nintendo] Switch 2 and it’s wild because I’ve been seeing all these articles saying that “Mario Kart” is the most stressful game to play. It raises your heart rate by like 50% or something like that, but it’s so calming to me just taking my mind off of things for a little bit. I usually play with Dianne or a group of friends online or people from around the world online.

11 p.m: Get some shut–eye
Then we’d get into our night routine. I’ll shower, cleanse, moisturize and all that stuff. I’ll also do 10 minutes of red light therapy and I’ll maybe meditate for a few minutes to calm myself down, then go to bed.

When 2,750 tonnes of ammonium nitrate exploded in Beirut’s port on August 4, 2020, it ripped through the city, killing more than 218 people. Among them was three-year-old Alexandra Naggear.

Five years later, the investigation into who is at fault for the blast has been delayed, and at times derailed, by political interference.

“The most important thing for us is not for the decision, but for full justice to happen,” Tracy Naggear, Alexandra’s mother and a key activist advocating for the blast’s victims, told Al Jazeera by phone. “And we won’t accept a half-truth or half-justice.”

As the fifth anniversary of the tragedy approaches, there is some optimism that the judicial investigation is finally moving in the right direction after facing obstacles, mostly from well-connected politicians refusing to answer questions and the former public prosecutor blocking the investigation.

A decision from the lead prosecutor is expected soon, activists and legal sources familiar with the matter told Al Jazeera. And while the road to justice is still long, for the first time, there is a feeling that momentum is building.

Justice derailed

“You can feel a positive atmosphere [this time],” lawyer Tania Daou-Alam told Al Jazeera.

Daou-Alam now lives in the United States, but is in Lebanon for the annual commemoration of the blast, which includes protests and a memorial.

Her husband of 20 years, Jean-Frederic Alam, was killed by the blast, which was one of the largest non-nuclear explosions in modern history.

Daou-Alam is also one of nine victims suing the US-based company TGS in a Texas court for $250m, claiming it was involved in chartering the Rhosus, a Moldovan-flagged ship that carried the ammonium nitrate into Beirut’s port in 2013.

She told Al Jazeera that the case is more about  “demanding accountability and access to documents that would shed more light on the broader chain of responsibility” than it is about compensation.

The population of Beirut is used to facing crises without government help. Numerous bombings and assassinations have occurred, with the state rarely, if ever, holding anyone accountable.

Frustration and a sense of abandonment by the state, the political system, and the individuals who benefit from it already boiled over into an uprising in October 2019, less than a year before the blast.

In the immediate aftermath of the explosion, residents cleaned up the city themselves. Politicians who came for photo opportunities were chased out by angry citizens, and mutual aid filled the gap left by the state.

The end of Lebanon’s 15-year civil war in 1990 set the tone for the impunity that has plagued the country ever since. Experts and historians say militia leaders traded their fatigues for suits, pardoned each other, awarded themselves ministries and began rerouting the country’s resources to their personal coffers.

Preliminary investigations found that the explosion was caused by ammonium nitrate stored at Beirut port in improper conditions for six years.

They also found that many top officials, including then-President Michel Aoun, had been informed of the ammonium nitrate’s presence, but chose not to act.

Judge Fadi Sawan was chosen to lead the full investigation in August 2020, but found himself sidelined after calling some notable politicians for questioning. Two ministers he charged with negligence asked that the case be transferred to another judge.

A court decision, seen by Reuters, claimed that because Sawan’s house had been damaged in the blast, he would not be impartial.

Replacing him in February 2021 was Judge Tarek Bitar. Like Sawan, Judge Bitar called major political figures in for questioning and later issued arrest warrants for them. Among them are Ali Hassan Khalil and Ghazi Zeiter, close allies of Lebanon’s Speaker of Parliament Nabih Berri, who still refuse to respond to Judge Bitar’s requests and claim they have parliamentary immunity.

Despite much popular support, many of Judge Bitar’s efforts were impeded, with Lebanon’s Internal Security Forces at times refusing to execute warrants and the former Court of Cassation public prosecutor, Ghassan Oueidat, ordering his investigation halted.

A new era

In early 2025, Lebanon elected a new president, Joseph Aoun, and a new prime minister, Nawaf Salam.

In their inaugural addresses, both spoke about the importance of finding justice for the victims of the port explosion.

“The current justice minister seems determined to go all the way, and he has promised that the judge will no longer face any hurdles and that the ministry will provide all help required,” Karim Emile Bitar, a Lebanese political analyst with no relation to the judge investigating the port explosion, told Al Jazeera.

Human Rights Watch reported in January 2025 that Judge Bitar had resumed his investigation, “after two years of being stymied by Lebanese authorities”.

On July 29, Salam issued a memorandum declaring August 4 a day of national mourning. On July 17, Aoun met with the families of victims killed in the explosion.

“My commitment is clear: We must uncover the whole truth and hold accountable those who caused this catastrophe,” Aoun said.

Oueidat, the former public prosecutor, was replaced by Judge Jamal Hajjar in an acting capacity in 2024, before being confirmed as his successor in April 2025.

In March 2025, Hajjar reversed Oueidat’s decisions and allowed Judge Bitar to continue his investigation.

Legal experts and activists have been pleased by the progress.

“Actual individuals implicated in the case are showing up to interrogations,” Ramzi Kaiss, Lebanon researcher at Human Rights Watch, told Al Jazeera. Among them are Tony Saliba, the former director-general of State Security, Abbas Ibrahim, former director-general of the General Directorate of General Security, and Hassan Diab, prime minister at the time of the explosion.

But this is still not enough for those wanting justice to be served after five years of battles, activists and experts note.

“We are asking for laws that are able to protect and support the judiciary and the appointments of vacant judge [posts], so these things will show the government is on our side this time,” Daou-Alam said.

Even with the new government pushing for accountability, some are still trying to disrupt the process.

Hassan Khalil and Zeiter still refuse to appear before Judge Bitar, and a fight has emerged over the country’s judicial independence.

“We can only get justice if the judiciary acts independently so that they can go after individuals and so the security services can act independently without political interference,” Kaiss said.

Time for accountability

The last few years have been a turbulent period of myriad crises for Lebanon.

A banking collapse robbed many people of their savings and left the country in a historic economic crisis. Amid that and the COVID-19 pandemic came the blast, and international organisations and experts hold the Lebanese political establishment responsible.

“The time has come to send a signal to Lebanese public opinion that some of those responsible, even if they are in high positions, will be held accountable,” political analyst Bitar said.

“Accountability would be the first step for the Lebanese in Lebanon and the diaspora to regain trust,” he said, “and without trust, Lebanon will not be able to recover.”

Still, Bitar maintained, progress on the port blast dossier doesn’t mean every answer will come to the forefront.

“This crime was so huge that, like many similar crimes in other countries, sometimes it takes years and decades, and we never find out what really happened,” he said.

Blast victim Tracy Naggear noted that “[our] fight… is mainly for our daughter, for Alexandra, of course”.

“But we are [also] doing it for all the victims and for our country,” she said. ‘[It’s] for every single person that has been touched by the 4th of August, from a simple scratch to a broken window.”

Llandudno, Conwy

Some British resorts are about the beach. In others it’s walking along the prom. The fashionable ones push gastronomy, drink, street art, culture. Others stick to arcades, funfairs, kids’ stuff. Llandudno delivers all of these and a bit more besides – and it does so unpretentiously, warmly and ever so slightly Welshly.

My introduction came in the 1980s, when we – my Lancashire family, or rather, families, as my divorced mum and dad took us separately to Wales – descended from our chalet or static above Abergele and hit Llandudno high street. There, I was bought my first serious football kit – Wales away, yellow with green and red upside down Js. The “shops were better” in Llandudno. They still are, with the main drag, Mostyn Street, boasting chains and independents, Victorian arcades and Clare’s department store – still going after almost a century.

Llandudno was always busy, fun, a little bit upmarket. Perhaps an innate confidence has helped it fare better than other north Wales seaside towns. When I went last year, there were coach parties from Manchester and South Yorkshire. Locals – lots of them “expats” from England – were sunning themselves on benches. It was May, but sweltering, and the ice-cream vendors were scooping frantically, the chippies turning out endless trays of cod and chips. At the end of the pier there’s a pub – a great idea – and the alfresco benches were all taken.

The prom along the main beach, known as the North Shore, is a sweeping beauty of wedding-cake terraces, with a wide walking and cycling path running for almost two miles, shelters to use as shades or suntraps, a paddling pool and an Alice in Wonderland art trail (the real Alice holidayed here). Dylan’s Restaurant is installed inside the former Washington hotel, a stunning corner building by prominent local architect Arthur Hewitt – also responsible for Llandudno’s Winter Gardens and Savoy and Palladium cinemas; the latter survives as a pub.

Llandudno is framed by two limestone headlands – the Little Orme and Great Orme – at either end of town. The latter, mined in prehistoric times for copper and other ores, has a cable-hauled tramway and Kashmiri goats that became famous in 2020 during the pandemic, when they came down to the town centre looking for company, and hedges to eat. You can see the Isle of Man, Blackpool Tower and the Cumbrian fells from the top.

West Shore, below the Great Orme, is backed by dunes and feels a lot more natural. It has lovely sunsets and lively winds, drawing kite-flyers and kite-surfers.

Walking around town, which has sloping streets and narrow nooks to get lost in, you often catch sight of the rocky summits of Eryri (Snowdonia). I don’t know any other major resort in the UK that’s so close to serious hillwalking territory.

Over the years, Llandudno has been declared the daffodil capital, startup capital and fish and chip capital of north Wales. At the top end of the A470 – the Welsh Route 66, which starts in Cardiff – it is arguably the region’s main urban centre, though Wrexham might have a thing or two to say about that. No one, though, disputes Llandudno’s status as the queen of Welsh resorts.

One evening, during my visit last year, a sea fret descended on Llandudno Bay. I was walking along the prom from the pier towards Craig-y-Don – a sometime suburb long ago subsumed by Llandudno – and the Little Orme. Joggers and scooter riders appeared like wraiths out of the dense murk. The Alice in Wonderland statues looked spooky and out of place. The terraces looked grey and ghostly in the dimness. Suddenly, as I progressed east, the mist beat a complete retreat, warm sunlight pervading like an epiphany. Llandudno looked utterly beautiful, as if reborn, or at least rediscovered.

Part of this was no doubt childhood memories flooding back. But it was also a sense of being genuinely taken aback. Llandudno is a major town and a resort, a place to live as well as to holiday, a Welsh location that has always welcomed outsiders, and an urban centre with wild edges. It has endured by maintaining traditions and keeping up. I think it’s special, a little bit magical.
Where to stay: St George’s is a well-preserved seafront hotel dating from the Victorian era, with a great restaurant. Doubles from £114, B&B
Chris Moss

Folkestone, Kent

When I cycle down Folkestone’s Earls Avenue, I can see the sea before I reach the end of the street. I turn left on to the clifftop promenade, the Leas, and the view across the Channel is suddenly expansive. This mile-long stretch is lined with Edwardian and Georgian hotels and modern apartments, in a spectrum that runs from faded to grandeur. Works in progress include another apartment complex and a 1930s toilet block being repurposed into a cafe. I have a drone’s-eye view of the curve of new-build apartments on the beach, but prefer to look across the water, where the stubby silhouette of Dungeness power station appears and disappears with the visibility.

To swim, I can head down to Mermaid Beach, with its easy incline into the water. The Zig Zag Path is the way to get there (at least until the funicular Leas Lift is restored in 2026). The convincing grottos of this 1920s path were hewn from Pulhamite: fake rock with genuine charm, which still fools casual visitors.

Well-heeled Edwardians once paraded on the Leas, and it’s cited as evidence of Folkestone’s glory days that Edward VII frequented the Grand hotel. Our French neighbours once thought Folkestone a prestigious holiday destination, as did many English. Booming summer seasons may have departed with budget flights, but the past two decades have delivered newsworthy regeneration. The logic of the Creative Folkestone foundation – one of the ways through which philanthropist Roger De Haan has pumped tens of millions of pounds into the local economy – has been to make Folkestone a great place to live and work, on the basis that visitors will follow.

The Grand is now private residences, and was crowned in 2014 with a Yoko Ono morse code artwork. There are several subtle contemporary artworks on the Leas, and tens more throughout the town and on its beaches – from an Antony Gormley statue gazing out to sea, to Lubaina Himid’s Jelly Mould Pavilion on the boardwalk. These are the legacy of the Folkestone Triennial, Creative Folkestone’s flagship project since 2008. The open-air exhibition, which returns for summer 2025 (19 July-19 October), has helped transform the town’s fortunes, assisted by a game-changing high-speed rail link to London. To live here is to encounter art, gently and often. The one time I lost my children for a significant length of time, they turned out to be investigating a Mark Wallinger piece.

In recent years, visitor numbers have risen, as have (thornier subject) house prices. In part, that’s down to the buzz of the Harbour Arm, where quirky food and drinks vendors have repurposed train carriages, shipping containers and even the lighthouse. I favour Sail Box, on the very tip of the arm, for the scale of its sea view and pancake stacks. In town, the subsidised Creative Quarter sees independent businesses spill down the Old High Street – where Steep Street coffee offers a Parisian-inspired books-and-cakes combo – to the artists’ studios on Tontine Street.

Folkestone has so many things it didn’t have 10 years ago: the world’s first multistorey skatepark; a New York Highline-inspired garden walkway, leading to the revitalised Harbour Arm; an annual Pride, and LGBTQ+ bookshop; mini golf on the beach. A Labour MP. And, as of spring 2025, a Reform-led council. So, we’ve still got range.

One of my favourite things is not new, it’s simply to linger on the beach whenever seals or porpoises are in the water. One Sunday, a pod of dolphins splashed about for 30 minutes in view of where I sat with friends and kids, beach-bar drinks in hand. It’s really hard to beat Folkestone on a hot day, with dolphins.
Where to stay: overlooking the harbour a short walk from town, the London and Paris Hotel has 11 pretty rooms, doubles from £175, room only
Sophy Grimshaw

Scarborough, North Yorkshire

Scarborough residents refer to visitors as “comforts”, because they have usually “Come for t’ day”, rather than the week, as was once the seaside norm. The negative shift helps explain why Scarborough will receive £20m from the government’s Plan for Neighbourhoods, to fund significant regeneration over the next decade.

The plan is designed for “left-behind” communities. If Scarborough is left behind, it is also majestic, what with the great sweep of the two bays, divided by the verdant castle headland. Most of its main attractions – which tend to be commensurately large-scale – are unaffected by the current regeneration, since the town has been quietly maintaining them for decades, even centuries.

Take the place where it all began, not only Scarborough tourism but seaside holidays in general. Scarborough Spa stands adjacent to a spring, whose salty waters oozing from the base of a cliff were promoted as therapeutic in the early 17th century. The gentry came to drink them, along with other things. “Health is the pretence, dissipation is the end,” wrote one 18th-century visitor, and the spa was the focus of the jollity. A storm destroyed the first spa in 1836. Its replacement burned down in 1876, the present baroque palace arising three years later. Whereas the spa was once associated with dinner-jacketed palm court orchestras, a more characteristic modern bill-topper would be Tony Skingle (who “IS” Elvis). But the vision is consistent: a night out is improved by the proximity of the sea.

Similar doggedness is evident in the history of the nearby South Cliff Lift, opened in 1875. Back then, the power was hydraulic. Today, the system is fully automatic, but the cars are still made of wood, one descending as the other ascends, like floating garden sheds.

They carry passengers up through the near-vertical South Cliff Gardens, recently refurbished and underpinned. Subdivisions include the genteel Rose Garden, which was created in 1883 and has been carefully tended ever since (it’s not easy to grow roses by the sea), including a major restoration in 2015.

On the North Bay, Peasholm Park was opened in 1912, with an oriental theme, which (this being Scarborough) meant an Oriental Garden surmounted by a pagoda and surrounded by a fairy-lit boating lake. Such playfulness did not suit the brash 1970s, and the park went to seed, but a programme of renewal brought a Grade II listing in 1999. The narrow-gauge North Bay Railway also runs through gardens, and has done since 1931, skirting the Open Air Theatre, which closed in 1986 but was triumphantly relaunched in 2010.

Now, let us return to the South Bay and the harbour, where the white lighthouse has stood like a cake decoration since 1806. Well, more or less. The original was destroyed by the German bombardment of 1914, its replacement erected in 1931. The harbour is attractively gritty: at low water, the pleasure boats are slumped in the mud. The kids with their crab lines seem to be emulating the adult fishers, who operate around the Victorian buildings of the West Pier.

The current regeneration does include the West Pier, where a hoarding announces plans for a multimillion-pound refurbishment, “improving amenities for local people and visitors”. But when you ask the local people about this, you encounter eye rolls and dark muttering. Their suspicion is that the pier will become too touristy at the expense of the fishing, and the plans are on hold for consultations. Scarborough has generally polished – rather than recut – the jewels in its crown, so I trust the harbour will not be too drastically “improved”.
Where to stay: Weston Hotel on Esplanade, Scarborough’s poshest street, has doubles from £100, room only
Andrew Martin
To the Sea By Train by Andrew Martin is published by Profile Books on 31 July (£18.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply

Portobello, Edinburgh

A starling skips from wall to floor to table on the Portobello promenade, eager to nick the parmesan from the preposterously large slice of pizza I’ve acquired from Edinburgh institution Civerinos. On the beach to my right, sunbathers battle melting ice-creams, dogs disrupt beach volleyball bouts and kids dig for Australia. Beyond, bobbing heads brave the North Sea chill, knowing the wood-fired Soul Water Sauna is waiting back on the prom if they get a little nippy.

Portobello is a trendy spot these days. The coastal suburb of Edinburgh is only a 30-minute bus ride from the city centre, but “Porty” has its own identity, distinct from the capital.

“I loved growing up here,” says Michael Pedersen, Edinburgh’s makar (poet laureate). “I loved the sea. I loved the arcade. I loved Arthur’s Seat looming in the background like a behemoth bull seal about to enter a brawl. But it didn’t feel like you were in a trendy, chic epicentre of a place. It felt like you were on the outskirts, trying to claw your way back in.”

The neon storm of Nobles – a battlement-themed penny arcade on the promenade – offers a portal to Porty’s past. Portobello was incorporated into Edinburgh in 1896, when it was one of Scotland’s most popular seaside resorts. Cheap tram and train access brought the masses in from Edinburgh and Glasgow, and an open-air pool and pleasure pier awaited them. Both of those attractions are long gone – the rise of package holidays ending the boom – but the Victorian swimming baths (and Edinburgh’s only Turkish baths) remain, council-run. As I backstroke under bunting strung across the pool, the sun shines through the glass roof, illuminating the columns and gallery.

It is not nostalgia that draws people to Porty today, though. It is – as well as veggie eateries such as Go Go Beets and speciality coffee spot Tanifiki – the rebellious flair of the community and what they’ve created. In 2017, for example, a Georgian church in town was due to be sold off. Luxury flats beckoned, but local campaign group Action Porty intervened and led a rare urban community buyout. It’s now Bellfield – home to a community cafe, art classes and ceilidhs.

“When we moved here in the 1990s, Portobello was very down-at-heel,” says Justin Kenrick, chair of Action Porty, as we stroll the promenade. “Newspapers called it dangerous. What we’re trying to fight off now is the place turning into one big holiday let. If there’s no community, there’s no point.”

The town hall was also saved by the community. It hosts regular events, such as Porty Pride’s annual ball, top Scottish comedians and sold-out showcases from Edinburgh’s Discovery Wrestling.

The main draw for many visitors is The Portobello Bookshop, a beloved indie with Corinthian columns. “You see people really warming to anything anybody does that is enhancing the community,” owner Jack Clark tells me. Their exceptional events programme has brought in authors from Eimear McBride to Zadie Smith. Pedersen packed out the bookshop in May to launch his debut novel Muckle Flugga, glimmers of which were inspired by his home town.

Pedersen has seen the Portobello skyline demolished and rebuilt since his childhood. “It’s so important, as independent businesses get successful and the area becomes more affluent, to invest in community groups,” the poet says. “The fact that there are these buildings coming back into community leases and hands retains a lot of the integrity of the area.

“I love Portobello in all its foibles and flaws; all its chintzy glamour; all its new-wave chicness.”

Walk along the promenade, looking across the Firth of Forth to Fife, and it’s easy to see why.
Where to stay: Straven Guesthouse is a traditional, family-run place close to the promenade, doubles from £107, B&B (minimum two nights)
Stuart Kenny

Eric Dane and filmmaker Janell Shirtcliff looked to be in full couple mode Wednesday at the premiere of Prime Video’s “Countdown,” a new series he stars in with Jensen Ackles. Hands were held; smiles and admiring glances were exchanged.

He was definitely not with Rebecca Gayheart, whom he married in October 2004 and just said — on national news, no less — is the person he reaches out to daily for “stalwart” support. Nope, even though Gayheart in early March requested the dismissal, without prejudice, of the 2018 divorce petition she had filed against Dane.

Dane revealed in April that he had been diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, a.k.a. ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s disease. Earlier this week, he revealed that he had lost function in his right arm due to the neuromuscular disease and felt his left arm failing.

So who’s dating whom? Dane’s relationship status is a bit fuzzy.

The “Grey’s Anatomy” alum, 52, has been “in an on-and-off relationship” with Shirtcliff for more than three years, Entertainment Tonight reported Wednesday. The two “care deeply for each other,” the outlet said, citing a source who added, “Eric asked Janell to be there for him during this time, and she wanted to show up for him.”⁠

Shirtcliff, who is a photographer and director, is in pre-production on the film “Generation Angst” and post-production on the horror flick “Triton,” according to IMDb.

But — Dane’s alleged girlfriend, actor Priya Jain, 27, was “blindsided” by his appearance at the event with Shirtcliff, 41, a source told Page Six on Thursday.

Jain and Dane met last summer and became “exclusive” in November 2024, the source said. “They never broke up.” The two have been photographed arm-in-arm in public and have matching tattoos, and she has spent “almost every night” at his house since they coupled up, Page Six said. They reportedly were together last weekend.

This three-way confusion is a tiny bit reminiscent of Dane and Gayheart’s nude 2009 bathtub video with actor Kari Ann Peniche, which Dane discussed in 2019 with Glamour. In the leaked video, the three could be seen bathing together naked — not having sex — and discussing their potential porn names about 15 years into the Gayheart-Dane marriage.

“I don’t necessarily think I was breaking any laws and corrupting anybody. We were just three people taking a bath,” he told the magazine. He added, referring at the time to the entirety of his past — including the bathtub video and his addiction to prescribed painkillers — “I have no regrets nor do I make any apologies for my life experience. It’s my life experience and I am at peace with all of it.”

As for Gayheart, she and Dane remain estranged as husband and wife even though she called off the divorce and they are in frequent contact as co-parents of their two daughters.

“I call Rebecca. I talk to her every day,” Dane said Monday on “Good Morning America,” fighting back tears as he talked about battling ALS. “We have managed to become better friends and better parents. And she is probably my biggest champion, my most stalwart supporter, and I lean on her.”

Brendan Yates says he’s learned innumerable things fronting his band Turnstile over the last decade and a half, not the least of which is that an ambitious musician needn’t move to Los Angeles or New York to make it.

“There’s nothing we haven’t been able to figure out living in Baltimore,” Yates says, and Turnstile’s success suggests he’s right: In 2021, the band — which spent the 2010s steadily rising through the East Coast hardcore scene — scored three Grammy nominations with its breakout album, “Glow On,” a set of fervent yet luscious punk jams laced with bits of funk, dream-pop and electronic dance music. The next year, Turnstile toured arenas as an opening act for My Chemical Romance then did the same for Blink-182. At April’s Coachella festival, Charli XCX ended her main-stage performance with a video message predicting a “Turnstile Summer.”

Even so, the proud Charm City quintet — Yates on vocals along with guitarists Pat McCrory and Meg Mills, bassist Franz Lyons and drummer Daniel Fang — did come to L.A. to record its new follow-up LP, “Never Enough,” setting up a studio in a rented mansion in Laurel Canyon where the band camped out for more than a month.

“We were looking for the experience where you kind of isolate a little bit, and Laurel Canyon has this tucked-away thing,” says Yates, who led the sessions as the album’s producer. “It was such a vibe.” The result extends “Glow On’s” adventurous spirit with sensual R&B grooves, guest appearances by Paramore’s Hayley Williams and Blood Orange’s Dev Hynes, even a flute solo by the British jazz star Shabaka Hutchings; “Never Enough” comes accompanied by a short film that just premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival and will screen in selected theaters this weekend.

Yates, 35, discussed the album over coffee last month in Silver Lake, a few days after Turnstile played a rowdy gig at L.A.’s Ukrainian Culture Center that featured an endless succession of stage-diving fans.

Who did the cooking while you were recording in the house?

We had a couple friends come in and cook meals. And we kept the fridge stocked. “What are we gonna eat?” — you can lose hours out of every day to that.

What’s the advantage of making a record the way you did?

You can kind of break away from normal life for a little bit and just exist in the music. You’re not going to the studio but thinking, “I’ve got to go to the grocery store later.” You wake up, have your little peaceful time in the morning before you get started, then just go right into the living room. We didn’t really need to leave the house for weeks at a time.

In a recent New York Times profile, the writer referred to you as Turnstile’s “workaholic frontman.” A fair characterization?

I wouldn’t describe myself that way, but I understand the sentiment. I’m in a band with people I grew up with — my closest friends — and we’re really passionate about what we’re doing. I give myself to it, but it never feels like work. When I was younger, I always separated music and real life. I thought of music as the thing that I love and real life as going to school and hating it. Even when I went to university, I was like, I’m not gonna do music.

You wanted to protect music from the strictures of school.

I guess so. I was doing these majors that I had no interest in. I started with kinesiology until I realized I suck at science and math. I switched to criminal justice, then I was like, “Wait, what am I doing?” Honestly, I think I was just looking for whatever major I could mentally check out on the most to make more space for music.

Did you graduate?

I left early because I wasn’t interested and I wasn’t doing well, and I got the opportunity to tour with this band that I played drums in. Eventually, years later, I went back and got a communications degree online.

Why?

I ask myself the same question all the time. One thing is, I’d started and I wanted to finish it. I probably wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t for remote schooling. I never went back into the classroom — I was in the back of the van writing essays.

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Did you get tickets to the Turnstile show in L.A. last night?

Does 35 feel old in hardcore years?

It would have seemed ancient to me as a 16-year-old. Never in my wildest dreams would I think at 35 that I’d be doing the same things I was hyped on doing when I was in high school. But I feel like age is a bit of an illusion. When you’re 12, you’re like, “I’m definitely gonna be married by 18 and have my first kid at 19.”

Certain aspects of aging are less illusory, right? Physical sturdiness, for example. How does that compare to 10 years ago?

I remember playing shows 10 years ago, and I had two knee braces on. At that time, I was just like, “This is what it is — here on out, this is what my knees are doing.”

You’re saying in fact you’re sturdier now.

What I figured out — look, I’m not a singer. Earlier on in playing shows, I’d throw the mic down and just jump into the crowd, mostly because of nerves and adrenaline.

Feels important to say that you’re definitely a singer.

I sing, but I wouldn’t call myself a singer. I’ve never done vocal lessons. Even forming the band, at that time everyone was like, “OK, we’ve got this band, but we should start one where you’re on the drums.” This band was literally: “Let’s do one on the side where I’m singing and you should get on guitar. Franz, you’ve never played bass, but you should play bass in this one.” Then you wake up 10 years later and — oh, shoot — this is the one we’ve put a lot into.

Turnstile, from left: Daniel Fang, Franz Lyons, Brendan Yates, Meg Mills and Pat McCrory.

(Atiba Jefferson)

For every fan of Turnstile, you’ve got someone accusing you of ruining hardcore. Ever hear a critique that actually stung?

I have no interest in having any dialogue about anyone’s opinion about anything that I’m doing.

I appreciate the definitiveness of that.

It just doesn’t matter.

Whose praise has been especially meaningful? There’s a great viral TikTok of James Hetfield and Rob Halford digging your set at some festival.

We’ve had so many cool moments like that — just like, “How is this real?” Obviously, getting to meet your childhood heroes is huge. But then there’s also the people you build relationships with and end up in the studio together — Dev or our friend Mary Jane Dunphe. You realize: These are actually my favorite people making music right now.

Notwithstanding your view on the opinions of others, what’s a moment on this album that feels creatively risky?

In the first single [“Never Enough”], after the band drops out, there’s like two minutes of just this synth chord. There was very much a conversation: “Is this too long? Should we shorten it?” And I’m sure there’s plenty of people where it might just be white noise to them — like, “Skip — I don’t need this.” But I feel like with this album there’s this intention to force yourself to sit with the chaotic moments and then sit with the very still moments and kind of have that relationship going back and forth. I think those moments of stillness are very connected to the film — you’ll kind of see how it all works together and why those moments are necessary. Our dream scenario would be that people’s first time hearing the album, they’re watching it with the film.

Someone says to you, “I didn’t really get the album until I saw the film” — that’s OK by you?

I would love that.

Who opened the door to the idea that you could make a movie?

The last album, we did a four-song EP [“Turnstile Love Connection”] that came with a video. I’d called my friend Ian [Hurdle], who’s the DP, and I was like, “Hey, I have an idea: We do this video, and it does all this and it’s about 10 or 11 minutes with these four songs.” I told him the whole idea, and then I asked him, “So who should we get to direct it?” He goes, “It sounds like you’re directing it.” I was like, “I guess you’re right.” I mean, I’m not a director.

You’ve now called yourself not a singer and not a director.

On paper, I don’t have any experience. The only thing I have experience in is really being excited about trying to make something work. But that video was a huge learning experience — the idea of, like, OK, this is possible.

There’s a rainbow color pattern that recurs throughout the new album’s videos. You’re using it as a live backdrop too. What’s it mean?

There’s a lot in the album that maybe ties into those colors. The record cover itself is a double rainbow. We were in Paris playing shows like a year and a half ago. We were walking around and it started raining while the sun was out. We’re like, “Yo, look” — there was this double rainbow. My friend snapped a photo, and that’s the album cover. Maybe there’s interpretations of that on a spiritual level — new beginnings or a transformation or openings to a different dimension.

Daniel Fang, Pat McCrory, Franz Lyons and Brendan Yates of Turnstile attend the 65th Grammy Awards in 2023.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

The album cover is very subtle. You could easily look at it and just see blue.

That was brought to me — how intangible the cover is. But that’s the point: I don’t want vibrant rainbows. I want it to almost feel like nothingness. A small speck in a vast universe is kind of the feeling that was going into the music. The blue too — in the film, there’s lots of ties to water and the vastness of the ocean.

Very Malibu of you.

I mean, side note: I drowned like 10 years ago in the ocean. I was saved by some locals — this was on a big surfer beach in Hawaii. This is not necessarily what the album is about, but more just like a thought process. What’s always fascinated me about the ocean is its power and how small I felt in that moment as I was passing out. And I truly did pass out — saw the white light and everything. Just how fast that could happen and how small I could feel put things into perspective in a different way.

OK, few more for you: One thing you guys have sort of crept up to but not quite done yet is a full-on ballad.

The final song on the new record [“Magic Man”] is literally just me and a Juno [synthesizer] in my room. In some ways it’s uncomfortable, but simultaneously it felt like it needed to happen. I needed to sing that.

You don’t drink. Does that have to do with your upbringing? Is it connected to a hardcore or straight-edge ideology?

Maybe experience seeing things when you’re younger that can lead you in a different way? But, I mean, getting into hardcore, finding out about straight-edge and stuff — I felt a little more comfortable in my own skin, not needing to drink. I like to make sure it’s never from a place of being stubborn, where I’m just like, “I don’t drink because I made up this idea in my head that I’m not going to drink.” I don’t think that’s a good way to be about anything in life.

Turnstile at the Ukrainian Culture Center.

(Eric Thayer / For The Times)

If you were starting the band now, would you still put your website at turnstilehardcore.com?

Probably. At the time, turnstile.com was taken. I feel like that was such a cool time, where every band’s MySpace or Twitter, it was the band’s name plus “HC.” That was such a time stamp. But yeah — hardcore music is what we all grew up in. It was like the funnel for us to find ourselves through a music scene and a culture and a community.

What feels outside the window of possibility for Turnstile? “We’ll never write a country song,” or “We’ll never play a cruise.”

We’ve done so many things that were outside our comfort zone. We did some arena shows, and that was such a cool learning experience — how to connect to someone who’s 100 yards away, sitting down in a chair, versus a kid that’s onstage with you. That show in L.A. the other night was like the ideal for us, where the stage is low and it’s this intimate room. But then I had so many close friends who couldn’t get in.

You could see the show as Turnstile keeping it real or as Turnstile indulging itself.

In a way, it made us inaccessible.

I look forward to the Turnstile Cruise in 2028.

It’s been offered. It’s never made sense. My first question is: What does the show feel like? Is it more about people going on a boat just to day-drink and throw up while we’re playing? Or can you figure out a way to make it an actual thing? I don’t know — it’s not off the table. But I’ve never been on a cruise in my life.

You’ve accurately sussed the vibe.

I’ve seen the pictures.

“Sirens,” premiering Thursday on Netflix, is an odd sort of a series, an interesting mix of hifalutin ideas, family drama and what might be called dark farce.

Set over Labor Day weekend on a Cape Cod island peopled by rich folks whose taste runs to pastels and floral prints, it stars Julianne Moore as Michaela, formerly a high-powered attorney who has given that up for marriage to hedge-fund billionaire Peter (Kevin Bacon) and a life dedicated to rescuing birds of prey. The queen of all she surveys, she speaks in moony aphorisms, is posing for Vanity Fair and orchestrating a fundraising gala, among minor entertainments.

Meanwhile, in Buffalo, we meet Devon (Meghann Fahy) a working-class hot mess, making her entrance out a police station door, wearing a short black dress, looking the worse for wear. Struggling to care for her father Bruce (Bill Camp), diagnosed with dementia, she goes in search of her sister, Simone (Milly Alcock), who has been working as Michaela’s personal assistant. After traveling 17 hours — carting, for reasons of comedy, the giant edible arrangement Simone has sent in lieu of an actual response to her call for help, still wearing her night-in-jail clothes — Devon will discover that her sister has been transformed: She’s removed the matching tattoos they got together, had a nose job and presents as something like the Disney version of “Wonderland’s” Alice, minus the curiosity. (“You’re dressed like a doily,” says Devon.) Ingmar Bergman fans will note the meant-to-be-noted crib from “Persona,” underlining Devon’s observation that Simone loses herself in other people.

Simone, for her part, is delighted that she gets to call Michaela “Kiki,” “which is really a special honor,” and faithfully amplifies Michaela’s mercurial requests to the staff, personified by Felix Solis’ Jose, who hate her. (They maintain a text chain to joke about her.) For all that she’s loyal to Michaela, and considers her a best friend, she’s been hiding both her working-class roots and the fact that she’s been sleeping with Ethan (Glenn Howerton), Peter’s also-rich pal and neighbor.

Ethan (Glenn Howerton), Simone (Milly Alcock) and Devon (Meghann Fahy) during a gathering at Michaela’s home.

(Netflix)

Though Michaela worries he might be having an affair, Peter, for his part, comes across as an essentially good guy, for a hedge fund billionaire. He’s friendly with the help, who worked for him before his marriage to Michaela — there are a first wife and adult children offstage — can cook for himself and hides away from the pastel people in the mansion’s tower, where he strums a guitar and smokes a little pot. But room has been left for surprises.

“Sirens” is the sisters’ shared special code for “SOS,” which seems less practical than, you know, SOS, but ties into the vague Greek mythological references with which the series has been decorated — more suggestive than substantial, I’d say, though it’s possible that is my lack of classical education showing. The house Siri system is called Zeus. One episode is titled “Persephone,” after the goddess of the dead and queen of the underworld; Simone does indeed say to Michaela, “You are literally a goddess” — she does dress like one, in flimsy, flowing gowns — while Devon thinks that something’s gone dead behind Simone’s eyes, that she’s been zombified: “You’re in a cult.”

It was the sirens’ sweetly singing, of course, that drew sailors to their deaths in the old tales, and at one point Michaela looks out over the ocean and muses on the boats of whalers crashing bloodily on the rocks. (She is particular about the blood.) There is, in fact, a sailor in the series, Jordan (Trevor Salter), who captains Ethan’s yacht and whom Devon picks up in a hotel bar, but he is perhaps the least likely character in the show to crash into anything. And Michaela is attended by a trio of women (Jenn Lyon as Cloe, Erin Neufer as Lisa and Emily Borromeo as Astrid) who, suggesting the title creatures, speak in harmony and act as one, but they are more the embodiment of a notion, a throwaway joke, than active participants in the story. Michael Abels’ score features a choir of female voices, opts for something that one might well identify as ancient Greek music even with no notion of what ancient Greek music might have sounded like.

Kevin Bacon plays Peter, a hedge fund billionaire married to Michaela.

(Macall Polay / Netflix)

The core of the series is the struggle between Devon and Michaela for the soul of Simone, though there are ancillary battles that will help decide the fate of the war. For a viewer, it’s natural to side with Devon, who, after locking horns with Michaela, will go undercover at the mansion, dressing according to the house rules while she pokes around. (There is the suggestion of a murder mystery.) However hot a mess she may be, she isn’t pretentious; she has energy, boldness and consistency, and whatever she gets wrong, she lives in the world that most of us do. (I am assuming you are not a billionaire with a mansion on a cliff, a birdhouse full of raptors and a large staff to tend to your needs and whims, but if you are — thanks for reading!) That isn’t to say that Michaela doesn’t have her troubles — indeed, her neediness, which expresses itself as caretaking, resembles Devon’s. “I take care of everything in my orb,” says Michaela, “big and small, prey and predator.”

I hadn’t known when I watched “Sirens” that it was based on a play, the 2011 “Elemeno Pea,” by Molly Smith Metzler, who created the series as well, but I thought it might be. It had the scent of the stage in the way characters — including Bruce and Ray (Josh Segarra), Devon’s boss and adulterous occasional hookup — kept piling in, along with its farcical accelerations, its last-act revelations and reversals.

At “only” five episodes, it stays more focused than most limited series, though the tone shifts a bit; some characters come to seem deeper and more complex, which is good on the face of it, but also can feel a bit manufactured. Some bits of business are planted merely to bear practical fruit later. The ending I found half-satisfying, or half-frustrating, from character to character, but there are great, committed performances along the way, and I was far more than halfway entertained.

Ferrari driver Lewis Hamilton added that the situation was “ridiculous”.

The seven-time champion said: “It seems a bit of a mess there at the moment. There’s lots of changes that are needed, for sure.”

Red Bull’s Max Verstappen – who last year was the first driver to be punished for swearing, with a form of community service – said the change was “a bit better – it’s a start”.

FIA president Mohammed Ben Sulayem said when the change of rules was announced on Wednesday that he had “led an extensive and collaborative review with contributions from across the seven FIA World Championships”.

However, speaking during media day at the Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix, Russell said: “We’ve still had no correspondence with anyone from the senior level at the FIA. So yeah, it’s all a bit suspect.”

Russell did not expand on his meaning, but it is likely that he was referring to the series of controversies that have surrounded Ben Sulayem in his three years as president, including his desire to change the statutes of the governing body to further extend his control, as BBC Sport revealed this week.

Asked why the drivers had not had dialogue with Ben Sulayem, Russell said: “That’s a good question. It seems more challenging than it should be really, but we’ve all put our views forward.

“I wouldn’t say it’s gotten to a point of no return, but you at least want to see willingness from the other party.

“I think we feel we’ve put our views forward and we want to have conversations and dialogue and there’s only so much you can ask.”

World championship leader Oscar Piastri of McLaren said: “The fact there has been changes made is good. The stewards have a lot more control now, in the fine print, which is good because the circumstances definitely need to be taken into account.

“It’s a good step forward. One of the big things for the FIA was putting something for abusing officials which I think is very fair and reasonable.

“I think maybe some of the other areas got caught up in that and it felt a bit harsh. But there are some genuine reasons for what they are doing.”

Russell also backed the potential bid of rally legend Carlos Sainz Sr in this December’s FIA presidential election.

Sainz is the father of Williams driver Carlos Sainz Jr.

“It could only benefit the sport having Carlos with the inside knowledge of Formula 1 from a driver’s perspective and then Carlos Sr’s knowledge from motorsport generally. It could be a brilliant recipe,” he said.

Russell dismissed the idea there could be a conflict of interest because of Sainz’s son, who is also a GPDA director.

He said: “You’re so far sort of removed ultimately from a technical standpoint. It’s down to the technical people within the FIA to be the rule makers.

“The president in years gone by has probably been far less involved than what we’ve seen recently and far less visible.

“We always knew who the president of the FIA was, especially with Jean Todt, but you’re working in the background, you’re not working in the forefront. So I don’t see there ever being a conflict.”