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Just when you thought Hollywood couldn’t get any more delightfully unhinged, Weezer drops a bombshell that feels like it was conjured from the depths of an entertainment fever dream. Picture this, darlings: Jack Black joining forces with Rivers Cuomo, announced via an AI-generated poster on Discord, of all places. It’s giving very 2025 energy, and honestly? We’re living for it.

The announcement landed with all the subtlety of a rhinestone-studded sledgehammer. Rivers Cuomo — ever the maverick — casually confirmed Black’s casting as if he were sharing his morning coffee order. That AI-generated poster, though? A masterpiece of algorithmic chaos that has Black and Cuomo locked in what can only be described as the most aesthetically confusing embrace since that infamous Madonna-Britney VMA moment.

But here’s where it gets juicy.

This casting isn’t just another Hollywood dart throw — it’s practically written in the stars. Black and Weezer’s history reads like a love letter to alternative rock’s golden age. Remember that absolutely iconic 2001 tour with Tenacious D? Or that moment when Black’s better half, Tanya Haden, blessed Weezer’s Green Day cover with her cello magic? The connections run deeper than a vintage vinyl groove.

Speaking of cosmic alignments — hold onto your designer shades, because this cast list is about to send you spinning. Keanu Reeves (yes, that Keanu) is set to play the villain, which feels like the kind of brilliant casting decision that could only happen after someone binged both “The Matrix” and “Bill & Ted” in one sitting. The delicious twist? Weezer’s first-ever show was opening for Reeves’ band Dogstar back in ’92, and in a chef’s kiss of karmic perfection, Dogstar recently returned the favor during Weezer’s Blue Album anniversary celebrations.

The project itself? Darling, it’s shaping up to be the kind of beautiful mess that could only exist in our current entertainment landscape. Think “Scott Pilgrim” meets “Weird Al” biopic, but make it alternative rock. Ben Schwartz has already been spotted directing concert crowds through reaction shots for scenes where “Weezer is fighting these big villains” — because apparently that’s where we are as a society now, and honestly? Here for it.

The supporting cast reads like someone’s dream dinner party guest list gone gloriously off the rails: Eric André, Johnny Knoxville, Juliette Lewis. It’s the kind of ensemble that makes perfect sense at 3 AM but somehow becomes even more brilliant in the harsh light of day.

Industry whispers (courtesy of journalist Jeff Sneider) suggest the plot centers on a “rivalry” between Weezer and Dogstar — which feels like the exact kind of absurdist storytelling 2025 desperately needs. Under the direction of Henry Joost and Ariel Schulman, this whole beautiful disaster promises to be either an absolute stroke of genius or the most spectacular train wreck since… well, since whatever Netflix just greenlit.

Either way, pass the popcorn. This is going to be fabulous.

Just when it seemed Hollywood might be running low on fresh ideas, the entertainment industry proves it’s still got a few delightful tricks up its sleeve. The latest announcements showcase a fascinating contrast in cinematic ambition — from high-stakes adventure to sophisticated European drama.

Guy Ritchie’s unexpected pivot might be the most intriguing development of the season. The British director, known for his signature cockney gangster films, is trading London’s gritty underworld for something decidedly more… well, supernatural. “Fountain of Youth” pairs John Krasinski (still riding high from his “Quiet Place” franchise success) with Natalie Portman in what’s shaping up to be 2025’s most anticipated treasure-hunting adventure.

The Apple TV+ production feels like a breath of fresh air. Sure, we’ve seen our share of archaeological adventures, but Ritchie’s distinctive visual flair promises something different. The first-look footage practically sparkles with that particular blend of wit and style that’s been missing from the genre lately — think less dusty tombs, more sleek modernist puzzles.

And then there’s that cast. Krasinski and Portman as bickering siblings? It’s the kind of inspired pairing that makes you wonder why nobody thought of it sooner. Throw in Eiza González (fresh off her Golden Globe nomination), Domhnall Gleeson, and the ever-reliable Stanley Tucci, and you’ve got an ensemble that could probably make reading terms and conditions entertaining.

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, something equally exciting is brewing. Asghar Farhadi — that master of moral complexity — is returning to French cinema with “Parallel Tales.” The two-time Oscar winner has assembled what can only be described as the European cinema dream team: Isabelle Huppert, Virginie Efira, Vincent Cassel, Pierre Niney, and Adam Bessa. Not too shabby, eh?

The Paris-set drama marks Farhadi’s first French project since “The Past” (remember Berenice Bejo’s stunning turn that earned her Cannes’ top acting honors?). This French-Italian-Belgian coproduction is already generating serious awards buzz, even though principal photography won’t wrap until late autumn.

What’s particularly fascinating about these simultaneous announcements is how they represent two distinct paths in modern filmmaking. Ritchie’s splashy streaming venture embraces the digital future, while Farhadi’s traditionally distributed drama maintains cinema’s classic theatrical model. Both approaches clearly have their place — and their audience.

The contrast couldn’t be more striking, really. On one hand, there’s Ritchie’s high-octane quest for immortality (literal and metaphorical, one assumes). On the other, Farhadi’s nuanced character study promises to unravel the complexities of modern European identity. Yet both projects share that unmistakable stamp of ambition that suggests Hollywood’s global influence hasn’t dimmed one bit.

Looking ahead to 2025-26, it’s refreshing to see such diverse offerings on the horizon. After what feels like an endless parade of superhero spectacles, perhaps we’re finally ready for something different. Something that reminds us why we fell in love with movies in the first place.

And honestly? It’s about time.

British music’s biggest night of recognition just got a whole lot more interesting. The 70th Ivor Novello Awards have thrown their spotlight on East London’s Lola Young — and honestly, it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving artist at a more perfect moment.

Young’s raw, unfiltered approach to songwriting has earned her an impressive three nominations, including what might be the night’s most coveted trophy: the rising star award. Her brutally honest hit “Messy” (you know the one — it’s been practically unavoidable on radio since last autumn) snagged a nomination for best song musically and lyrically, while her album “This Wasn’t Meant for You Anyway” is up for best album.

The thing about “Messy” that really gets under your skin? That chorus. “And I’m too perfect ’til I show you that I’m not / A thousand people I could be for you and you hate the fucking lot.” It’s the kind of lyrical gut-punch that makes you pause mid-coffee sip and actually listen. No wonder it’s racked up north of 500 million Spotify streams.

Don’t let anyone tell you this is some overnight success story, though. Young’s been grinding away in London’s music scene since 2018, catching the ear of some pretty impressive industry veterans along the way. Nick Shymansky (yeah, the same guy who managed Amy Winehouse) and Nick Huggett (who first spotted Adele) both saw something special in her early on.

The rest of the nominations list reads like a who’s who of British musical innovation — and what a year it’s been. Charli XCX’s “Brat” spawned an entire cultural movement (remember last summer when everyone was suddenly “living their brat era”?). Meanwhile, compelling offerings from Berwyn, Jordan Rakei, and Ghetts prove British music isn’t staying in any one lane.

Here’s a bit of sweet irony: Wham!’s “Last Christmas” is up for most performed work. Twenty-one years after George Michael’s last nomination in the category, the holiday earworm that refuses to die is competing against Harry Styles’ “As It Was” (third time’s the charm?) and Dua Lipa’s “Houdini.”

The best song category this year? Pure gold. Laura Marling’s heartbreaking “Child of Mine” sits alongside Raye’s “Genesis,” while Fontaines DC brings their post-punk poetry with “In the Modern World.” Throw in Young’s “Messy” and Orla Gartland’s “Mine,” and you’ve got yourself quite the musical feast.

Tom Gray, who chairs The Ivors Academy, wasn’t wrong when he called these awards “the most joyful celebration of music making in the calendar.” With 74 composers and songwriters nominated — and get this, two-thirds of them first-timers — it’s clear British and Irish music is in the midst of something special.

Mark your calendars for May 22nd, when London’s Grosvenor House will host what’s shaping up to be a historic night. U2’s induction as the first Irish act in the Academy Fellowship puts them in some pretty decent company — think Sir Paul McCartney, Sir Elton John, Kate Bush, and The Boss himself, Bruce Springsteen.

As the Ivors hit the big 7-0, they’re proving that great music writing knows no age — or genre, for that matter. In an industry that’s constantly shape-shifting, these awards remain a steady reminder that genuine artistry will always find its audience. Sometimes it just needs a little help from a certain prestigious ceremony to shine even brighter.

Sometimes magic happens in the most unexpected places. On a balmy April evening in Nashville, that place happened to be Santa’s Pub — a cash-only dive where the beer comes in cans and the karaoke machine’s seen better days. What unfolded there on April 22nd wasn’t your typical stadium spectacle or carefully choreographed festival set. Instead, Ed Sheeran and Noah Kahan delivered something far more precious: an unvarnished slice of musical authenticity that felt like stumbling upon lightning in a bottle.

The whole thing started casually enough. “We’re going to play songs until someone gives up,” Sheeran announced to the hundred-odd souls packed into the dimly lit space. There was something beautifully defiant about two of folk-pop’s biggest names choosing this humble venue over the glittering arenas they could easily fill.

Between sips of Modelo and playful jabs about their eerily similar musical DNA, the pair settled into a groove that felt more like watching old friends jam in someone’s living room than a formal performance. “It’s going to feel like a freestyle battle for depressed people,” Kahan quipped, acknowledging the oft-made comparisons between their styles. Sheeran, grinning, shot back: “I’m the Catholic Noah Kahan.”

The night’s setlist unfolded organically — no rigid structure, just pure musical conversation. Kahan’s “Dial Drunk” and “Stick Season” took on new life in the intimate setting. But perhaps the evening’s most revealing moment came when Sheeran unveiled “Old Phone,” an unreleased track that wore its Kahan influence proudly on its sleeve. “I recorded this song, I was like, ‘I think it kind of sounds like a Noah Kahan song,’” Sheeran admitted, before diving into lyrics about lost connections and ghostly text messages from beyond.

For Sheeran, who spent nine months calling Nashville home back in 2013, Santa’s Pub wasn’t just another stop on his promotional tour for his upcoming album “Play.” The venue’s well-worn walls and unpretentious atmosphere seemed to strip away the layers of superstardom, revealing the songwriter who once played endless open mics and small clubs.

The real magic emerged during Kahan’s more personal numbers, particularly those exploring his complex relationship with his father. Watching Sheeran shift from headliner to supportive collaborator, adding subtle guitar flourishes that enhanced rather than overshadowed, offered a masterclass in musical generosity.

Nashville’s reputation for nurturing these authentic musical moments continues to grow, something Sheeran noted between songs: “Even outside of playing at the Ryman or somewhere, these crowds make four-part harmonies feel almost automatic when you perform in Nashville.” It’s the kind of observation that cuts to the heart of what made this night special — two artists at their commercial peak choosing to remind us why we fell in love with their music in the first place.

In an age where every performance seems calibrated for maximum social media impact, this felt like a welcome rebellion against the machinery of modern music promotion. Sure, Sheeran’s there to promote “Play,” his upcoming collaboration with twelve musicians recorded in Goa, India. But on this night, in this dive bar where $100 could theoretically buy drinks for half the room, none of that seemed to matter.

What mattered was the music, the moments, and the reminder that sometimes the smallest stages yield the biggest magic.

Just when you thought Hollywood had exhausted every possible political fantasy premise, Amazon Prime Video drops a trailer that feels like it was conceived during a particularly spirited late-night writers’ room session. Their upcoming summer tentpole “Heads of State” pairs Idris Elba and John Cena in what might be 2025’s most gloriously outlandish premise yet.

Picture this: Elba as the British Prime Minister (naturally) facing off against Cena as a former action star who somehow landed the U.S. presidency. Sound familiar? Well, in our post-everything political landscape, it’s hard to say what’s more surprising — the premise itself or the fact that it doesn’t seem entirely far-fetched.

The newly released footage wastes no time throwing viewers into the deep end of this diplomatic circus. There’s Elba, bringing his signature gravitas to what could’ve easily been a stuffy caricature of British leadership. Then there’s Cena, whose casting feels like a knowing nod to the Schwarzenegger political playbook — though Arnold never quite made it to the Oval Office.

But here’s where things get interesting.

What starts as a tense summit between these unlikely leaders (complete with some absolutely savage diplomatic shade-throwing) quickly spirals into chaos when their aircraft comes under attack. Because apparently, in action movie logic, even the most mundane political meeting must include at least one explosion. It’s practically in the Geneva Convention at this point.

Director Ilya Naishuller, fresh off the kinetic insanity of “Nobody,” seems to be threading a particularly tricky needle here. The film walks that razor’s edge between serious action thriller and self-aware comedy — a balance that could easily topple into absurdity if not for the stellar ensemble cast keeping things anchored.

Speaking of which — Priyanka Chopra Jonas joins the fray as MI6 agent Noel Bisset, tasked with handling these squabbling heads of state. The supporting cast reads like a dream team of character actors, with Paddy Considine, Stephen Root, and Carla Gugino rounding out what’s shaping up to be much more than your standard action fare.

The July 2025 release date positions “Heads of State” perfectly for those sweltering summer nights when you’d rather stream something explosive from your air-conditioned living room than brave the multiplex crowds. Plus, it marks a reunion for Elba and Cena following their brief but memorable shared screen time in “The Suicide Squad” — and if that chemistry is any indication, we’re in for something special.

The screenplay (courtesy of Josh Appelbaum, André Nemec, and Harrison Query) seems determined to deliver more than just your standard “unlikely duo saves the world” template. There’s something oddly timely about watching two wildly different leaders forced to set aside their differences for the greater good. Though honestly? Sometimes a perfectly executed cliché is exactly what the doctor ordered.

In a summer that’s already promising the usual parade of superhero spectacles and franchise extensions, there’s something refreshingly straightforward about “Heads of State.” It knows exactly what it is — a big, bombastic piece of entertainment that doesn’t pretend to be anything else. And sometimes, that’s precisely what we need.

Morning telly served up quite the spectacle yesterday at Good Morning Britain — and it wasn’t just the usual mix of politics and celebrity gossip that got viewers talking. Between Richard Madeley’s surprisingly candid age revelation and Kate Garraway’s conspicuous absence, the studio practically buzzed with the kind of unscripted drama that makes British breakfast television such compelling viewing.

Let’s talk about Madeley first. The veteran broadcaster — who’s been gracing our screens since what feels like the dawn of time — casually dropped what he probably thought was common knowledge: “69 in May!” The revelation sparked an absolutely brilliant reaction from Lorraine Kelly, who, in her delightfully unfiltered Scottish manner, exclaimed “It’s ridiculous!”

Madeley, ever the self-deprecating sort, waved off the compliments with a rather thoughtful observation about modern aging. “Most people approaching 70… don’t look it anymore,” he mused, and honestly? Looking at the state of celebrities in 2025, he might be onto something there.

But here’s where things got properly interesting.

The real mystery of the morning centered around Kate Garraway’s unexpected no-show. The 57-year-old presenter, who typically holds court on alternate Thursdays and Fridays, was nowhere to be found — and her colleagues weren’t about to let that slide without a bit of playful speculation.

Entertainment correspondent Melvin Odoom couldn’t resist stirring the pot when discussion turned to the upcoming Celebrity Traitors. “None of us have been able to get hold of Kate on the phone,” he revealed, barely containing his glee at the potential scoop. The timing? Well, rather suspicious, wouldn’t you say?

In a moment that perfectly captured the organised chaos of live television, Madeley — bless him — actually reached for his mobile during the broadcast to message his absent colleague. Talk about meta television!

Susanna Reid (never one to miss an opportunity for a clever quip) jumped in with what might be the morning’s best observation: “She’ll make an excellent Traitor if we can’t even get hold of her!”

Should the whispers prove true, Garraway would be joining quite the motley crew up at Scotland’s Ardross Castle. The rumoured lineup reads like the guest list of the world’s most eccentric dinner party — Stephen Fry rubbing shoulders with rugby giant Joe Marler, while Charlotte Church, Bob Mortimer, and Alan Carr potentially round out the ensemble.

Mind you, this wouldn’t be the first time a morning TV presenter has mysteriously vanished only to pop up on a reality show. Remember Holly Willoughby’s suspiciously timed “holiday” last autumn? Television has a funny way of recycling these particular plot points.

The whole morning served as a rather brilliant reminder that even in 2025, with all our tech and carefully planned programming, live television still has this magnificent ability to surprise us. Whether Kate’s actually donning a cloak and plotting betrayals in a Scottish castle or simply enjoying a well-deserved break remains to be seen — but isn’t the speculation half the fun?

Hollywood’s serving up a double dose of delicious transformation this week, and darlings, it’s the kind of industry shake-up that makes award season drama look positively tame.

Remember Seth Rogen? The guy who’s been practically living in the producer’s chair lately? Well, he’s dusting off his acting chops for something completely unexpected. After spending what feels like eons behind the scenes with “The Studio” and “Invincible,” Rogen’s stepping back into the spotlight — and not for another stoner comedy. He’s joining forces with Olivia Wilde for her enigmatic new project “The Invite.”

And what an invite it is. Picture this: Penélope Cruz (still impossibly gorgeous after all these years) and Edward Norton (who apparently hasn’t aged since “Fight Club”) at what might be the most uncomfortable dinner party since Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton went at it in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Wilde — fresh from the beautiful mess that was “Don’t Worry Darling” — is both helming and appearing in this exploration of… well, let’s just say it makes your awkward Thanksgiving look like a kindergarten picnic.

But wait — there’s more tea to spill.

RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars is about to turn the party up to eleven with its milestone 10th season. Forget everything you thought you knew about the format, because this time they’re serving pure chaos realness. Eighteen queens (yes, you read that right) are about to battle it out in something they’re calling the “Tournament of All Stars.”

Think March Madness meets Metropolitan Museum Gala, honey. They’re dividing these fierce competitors into color-coded brackets — pink, purple, and orange — with six queens each fighting for those precious semi-final spots. It’s giving sports tournament eleganza, and we’re absolutely here for it.

The cast list? Pure excellence. From Season 14’s breakout stars Bosco and Daya Betty to legendary veterans like Nicole Paige Brooks, this season’s roster reads like a greatest hits album of drag excellence. Even Jorgeous is back for another bite at the apple, proving that some queens just can’t get enough of the spotlight.

“Let the acid trip begin!” declares returning queen Acid Betty — and honestly, has there ever been a more perfect way to describe what’s coming? With $200,000 on the line (inflation is coming for everything in 2025, apparently) and that coveted Hall of Fame spot up for grabs, expect drama that would make Shakespeare himself clutch his pearls.

Both ventures remind us that sometimes the best path forward isn’t the obvious one. Whether it’s through an uncomfortably revealing dinner party or a revolutionary competition format that turns tradition into confetti, entertainment’s evolving faster than you can say “category is…”

As Mistress Isabelle Brooks warned in her characteristically sharp style: “With Mistress, there are no safe words, no mercy, and zero tolerance for drag delusion.” Honestly? That could be the tagline for both these ventures — bold, unexpected, and exactly the kind of shake-up our screens have been craving.

The music world lost a true sonic architect last week. Roy Thomas Baker, the legendary producer who helped craft Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” and countless other rock masterpieces, passed away at 78 in his Lake Havasu City home. His death, announced by spokesperson Bob Merlis, marks the end of an era that transformed rock music forever.

Baker wasn’t just any producer — he was a mad scientist of sound who turned studio consoles into instruments of pure imagination. Take “Bohemian Rhapsody,” that gloriously over-the-top opus that somehow worked. “It was basically a joke, but a successful joke,” Baker once quipped to Mix magazine back in ’99. Some joke — it’s now racked up over 2.7 billion Spotify streams, making it the most-played 20th-century song on the platform.

Queen’s drummer Roger Taylor remembered Baker’s quirky presence behind the board. “He brought discipline, cynicism, and a passion for fattening desserts,” Taylor recalled. “Roy liked his food. But man, was he strict in those early days… the take had to be perfect.”

That perfectionism shaped Baker’s entire journey. Starting as a second engineer at London’s Decca Studios, he learned from the best — Gus Dudgeon, Tony Visconti — while working with legends like Bowie, The Who, and the Stones. But it was Queen that truly unleashed his creative madness. Those first four albums? Pure Baker magic, packed with layered vocals and multi-tracked instruments that defined an era.

The late Cars frontman Ric Ocasek once described Baker’s unique genius: “Roy got harmony like nobody else. He was this elegant, upbeat character who could handle any band drama thrown his way. Plus, the man knew his electronics cold — classical training mixed with rock ‘n’ roll spirit.”

By the late ’70s, Baker had conquered L.A., becoming an A&R heavyweight at Elektra Records. His golden ears helped discover acts like Metallica and 10,000 Maniacs. Meanwhile, his production credits read like a rock hall of fame roster: Journey, Cheap Trick, Alice Cooper, Devo, Ozzy Osbourne, Smashing Pumpkins — the list goes on.

Baker had strong opinions about artists trying to produce themselves. He’d compare it to “someone wanting to be their own lawyer in court,” arguing you needed that outside perspective to reach your full potential. “You can’t be in two places at once,” he’d say — words that still ring true in today’s home-studio era.

His legacy lives on through his wife, Tere Livrano Baker, and brother Alan. But more than that, it echoes through countless recordings that showcase what happens when technical brilliance meets pure musical audacity. In an age where AI threatens to take over music production, Baker’s human touch reminds us what’s possible when creativity knows no bounds.

Hollywood’s latest feel-good story just might be its most surprising yet. This Christmas, Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson are teaming up to bring an unexpectedly touching tale to the silver screen – and yeah, it involves Neil Diamond covers.

“Song Sung Blue,” hitting theaters Christmas Day 2025, dives into the real-life story of Mike and Claire Sardina, a married couple whose Neil Diamond tribute act became something of a minor phenomenon. Sure, tribute acts aren’t exactly breaking new ground these days, but there’s something genuinely special about this particular slice of Americana that director Craig Brewer has managed to capture.

The casting feels almost too perfect. Jackman (fresh off his buzzed-about return as Wolverine) steps back into musical territory for the first time since “The Greatest Showman” lit up theaters back in 2017. Hudson, meanwhile, brings her own musical heritage – not to mention that Oscar-nominated turn in “Almost Famous” – to the role of Claire. The chemistry between them practically jumps off the screen, at least according to early industry whispers.

“Loved every second making this beautiful film,” Hudson gushed on Instagram, praising her “work husband” Jackman and Brewer’s direction. That enthusiasm seems genuine, especially given the caliber of talent involved behind the scenes.

Speaking of talent – the supporting cast is stacked. Michael Imperioli (riding high after that Emmy win) brings his considerable chops to the mix, while Fisher Stevens adds another layer of gravitas. Then there’s the fascinating addition of indie darling King Princess and the ever-magnetic Mustafa Shakir rounding things out. Not too shabby for a movie about Diamond covers, right?

Brewer’s involvement feels particularly significant. After knocking it out of the park with “Hustle & Flow” and “Dolemite Is My Name,” he’s developed quite the knack for stories about outsiders finding their voice through performance. His connection to the material runs deep – he’ll even be signing posters at his local Malco theater on opening day, keeping up a personal tradition that speaks volumes about his commitment to community.

The source material, Greg Kohs’ 2008 documentary of the same name, provides a solid foundation. But this adaptation seems poised to dig deeper, exploring themes that feel particularly relevant as we head into 2025. In an age where AI-generated content threatens to overshadow human creativity, there’s something refreshingly authentic about celebrating people who pour their hearts into performance – even when they’re performing someone else’s songs.

Focus Features clearly sees something special here. A Christmas Day release slot doesn’t come easy, but with Jackman’s “Deadpool & Wolverine” momentum still going strong and early awards chatter starting to build, “Song Sung Blue” might just be the sleeper hit of the holiday season.

The timing couldn’t be better. As audiences grow increasingly skeptical of manufactured content, here comes a story that celebrates the pure, unvarnished joy of performance. It’s about finding your voice, even if that voice happens to be singing “Sweet Caroline” in a tribute show. Sometimes the most authentic thing you can do is admit who you’re trying to be.

The Celebrity Big Brother house continues to reel from Mickey Rourke’s controversial departure, casting an unexpected shadow over what many consider the show’s strongest season in years. Just when viewers thought the dust had settled, last night’s face-to-face nominations ripped open old wounds — particularly for TOWIE’s rising star Ella Rae Wise.

Television rarely serves up raw emotion quite like this. In a moment that left even veteran reality TV producers slack-jawed, Wise confronted ’90s pop icon Chesney Hawkes over his perceived silence during Rourke’s contentious stint. “When a certain someone was here and didn’t make me feel comfortable,” she managed through tears, “as a man, you should’ve said, ‘That’s not OK.’” The confrontation hit harder than any manufactured drama could.

Hawkes — still riding the endless wave of “The One and Only” some three decades later — looked genuinely blindsided. His subdued response (“I’m sorry you feel that way, Ella”) landed about as well as a lead balloon in the charged atmosphere of the house. Here’s a bloke who’s somehow maintained his nice-guy image in an industry that typically eats those alive, suddenly cast as the villain in someone else’s story.

But hang on a minute.

The whole situation reeks of selective memory. While Wise’s emotional trauma deserves acknowledgment, her laser focus on Hawkes raises eyebrows. What about Jack P. Shepherd’s studied silence? Or Danny Beard’s strategic neutrality? Even Olympic legend Daley Thompson managed to dodge this particular bullet — though he’s had plenty to say about everything else this season.

Mind you, 2025’s edition of Celebrity Big Brother has delivered in spades. The unlikely friendship between Donna Preston and Danny Beard has produced more genuine laughs than most scripted comedies this year. Meanwhile, conversations about industry politics and social justice have given the show unexpected depth — when they’re not arguing about who used the last oat milk in the kitchen, that is.

Yet Rourke’s ghost lingers. His brief stay, marked by accusations that would make even a tabloid editor blush, has left an indelible mark on what could’ve been reality TV gold. It’s a stark reminder that even in our supposedly enlightened times, some dinosaurs still roam the entertainment landscape.

Tonight’s eviction looms large. Wise faces elimination alongside Angellica Bell and Patsy Palmer (remember her dramatic EastEnders exit? Feels like ancient history now). There’s a palpable sense that whatever happens, these wounds won’t heal with a simple public vote.

The whole mess mirrors broader conversations happening across Britain — about accountability, about speaking up, about the complex dance between power and responsibility. In many ways, the Big Brother house has become a peculiar petri dish for examining these societal tensions, where personal grievances collide with public personas in spectacular fashion.

Whether Wise survives tonight’s vote almost seems beside the point now. The conversations her confrontation sparked — about male allyship, about standing up to power, about the ripple effects of inappropriate behavior — will likely echo well beyond the final credits of this remarkable, if somewhat tainted, season.

Sometimes reality TV actually lives up to its name. Who’d have thought?