crowd

Nathan Aspinall became the latest seed to fall at the PDC World Championship, but 20-year-old Charlie Manby continued his dream run by reaching the last 16.

Aspinall, who reached the semi-finals in 2019 and 2020, lost 4-3 in a final-set thriller against the Netherlands’ Kevin Doets.

The 15th seed won the first and third sets, but was pegged back on both occasions, only to seize control again with a stunning 170 checkout to claim the fifth set.

However, from there, Doets took over, reeling off sixth consecutive legs to seal a sixth straight win over Aspinall and set up a last-16 tie against world number two Luke Humphries on Tuesday.

Manby, who is playing in the tournament for the first time, overcame Ricky Evans 4-2.

The bricklayer from Huddersfield struggled on his doubles early on, taking out just four of 30 attempts in the first three sets as he went 2-1 down.

Scoring was never an issue though and his accuracy on the checkouts improved, alongside a drop-off from Evans, as he sealed a place in round four and a minimum £60,000 in prize money.

He will face the Netherlands’ Gian van Veen in the next round in what will be his toughest test so far, with the 10th seed having the tournament-high match average of 108.28 in his second-round win.

After the match, Evans posted on Facebook that he had received death threats as well as hate and fat jokes.

Another debutant also progressed with Somerset’s Justin Hood beating Ryan Meikle 4-1.

He raced into a 3-0 lead before Meikle pulled a set back but Hood sealed his place and said afterwards that he would not have to work in 2026 after also confirming at least £60,000 in prize money.

He has climbed to a provisional 63rd in the world rankings already and said post-match he still has aspirations to open a Chinese restaurant one day.

He will face 11th seed Josh Rock in the last 16, after the Northern Irishman overcame Callan Rydz 4-2 in the final third-round tie.

Rydz was emotional throughout following the death of his grandfather since his previous match.

Under the glow of fluorescent lights at Seafood City market in North Hills, packages of pre-made adobo, salted shrimp fry and and dried anchovies glisten in meat coolers.

A DJ, dressed in a traditional barong, blasts a dance remix of Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” as a crowd gathers to take a shot of fish sauce together.

“That was disgusting!” a man shouts into the mic, flashing a grimacing expression.

At Seafood City, DJs 1OAK, left, EVER ED-E and AYMO spin in barongs, the Philippines’ national formal shirt.

The smells of lechon and lumpia float through the air. Smiling children munch on halo-halo (a Philippine dessert made with ube ice cream, leche flan and shaved ice). Flags of the Philippines wave in the air as a man in UCLA Health scrubs hops into the center of an energetic dance circle. Employees shoot store coupons out of a money gun and toss bags of Leslie’s Clover Chips into the crowd. Fathers hold their children on their shoulders as a group of college students perform a Tinikling routine, a traditional Philippine dance in which performers step and hop over and between bamboo poles.

“This is so Filipino,” a woman says, in awe of the scene.

Sabria Joaquin, 26, of Los Angeles, left, and Kayla Covington, 19, of Rancho Cucamonga hit the dance floor at “Late Night Madness” in North Hills.

“I came here for groceries,” explains an elderly man, adding that he decided to stay for the party.

Seafood City, the largest Philippine grocery store chain in North America, typically closes at 9 p.m. But on certain Friday and Saturday nights, its produce or seafood aisle turns into a lively dance floor for “Late Night Madness.” On social media, where the gathering has exploded, it looks like a multigenerational nightclub that could use dimmer lighting. But for attendees who frequent the store, it’s more than that. It’s a space for them to celebrate their Filipino heritage through food, music and dance in a familiar setting.

“This is something that you would never expect to happen — it’s a grocery store,” says Renson Blanco, one of five DJs spinning that night. He grew up going to the store with his family. “My mom would [put] us all in the minivan and come here, and she’d let us run free,” he adds. “It’s comfortable here. It’s safe here.”

1

2

3

1. Rhianne Alimboyoguen, 23, of Los Angeles follows an employee through the produce section. 2. Allison Dove, 29, left, and Andrea Edoria, 33, both of Pasadena, enjoy Philippine street food. 3. Katie Nacino, 20, left, Daniel Adrayan, 21, and Sean Espiritu, 21, of the Filipino American Student Assn. at Cal State Northridge, practice tinikling, a traditional Philippine folk dance, in an aisle.

The first Seafood City location opened in 1989 in National City, a suburb of San Diego, which has a nearly 20% Asian population including a rich Filipino community. For its founders, the Go family, the mission was simple: to provide a market where Filipinos and people within the diaspora could comfortably speak their native language and buy familiar products. It’s since become a community anchor. Of the nearly 40 locations in Northern America, at least half of them are based in California, which has the highest population of Asian Americans in the United States.

• Share via Close extra sharing options

The first “Late Night Madness” event happened in September in Daly City, Seafood City’s newest location. The company wanted to launch a street food program at the store’s food hall in a fun and creative way.

The DJ played a selection of hip-hop, pop, soul and classic Pinoy records like VST & Company’s “Awitin Mo, Isasayaw Ko.” Hundreds of people showed up, and videos of people of all ages turning up in the popular supermarket spread like wildfire. So the company decided to continue hosting the event in October during Filipino American History Month and for the rest of the year. It’s since expanded to more locations around the country and in L.A., including Eagle Rock.

By 10 p.m. at the Seafood City in North Hills, at least 500 people are dancing in the produce section, next to rows of saba bananas, fresh taro leaves and bok choy. The lively crowd forms dance circles throughout the night, taking turns jumping in the center to show off their moves to songs like Earth, Wind & Fire’s “Let’s Groove,” “Nokia” by Drake and Justin Bieber’s “I Just Need Somebody to Love.” At one point, TikToker and artist Adamn Killa hops on the mic and says “If you a Filipino baddie, this is for you,” before doing his viral dance.

Among the Philippine street food offerings were pandesal sliders, lumpia-style nachos, lobster balls and various skewers.

A group of employees dance behind the counter as they serve hungry patrons who fill their trays with various Filipino street food including pandesal sliders (soft Philippine bread filled with adobo, lechon or longganisa) and Lumpia Overload (think nachos, but a bed of lumpia instead of tortilla chips), lobster balls and barbecue chicken skewers. (No alcohol is served.) Meanwhile, a few lone shoppers sprinkle into the store to get their weekly groceries as music blasts through the speakers.

First-generation Filipino American Andrea Edoria of Pasadena says “Late Night Madness” reminded her of the family parties she attended as a child in L.A. and in Manila, where her parents are from.

“Growing up as a child of immigrants, I was kind of self conscious about displaying too much of my culture,” she says between bites of spiral fried potato. She went to the Eagle Rock event with her mother last month as well. “So it kind of fed my inner child to see so many people celebrating this shared culture and experience that we each grew up [with].”

A multi-generational crowd is drawn to the dance floor. At center is Jade Cavan, 44, of Chatsworth.

Members of the Filipino American Student Assn. at Cal State Northridge perform a tinikling performance.

She adds, “I think it’s so important especially now at a time where our country is so divisive and culture is kind of being weaponized, I think it’s a beautiful reminder that we can come together and find something that unites us.”

About 10 minutes before midnight, the grocery store is still bustling with activity. A dance battle breaks out and people begin hyping up the young women. The DJ transitions into slower tracks like Beyoncé’s “Love on Top” and Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You.” The remaining folks sing along loudly as they walk toward the exit, smiles imprinted on their faces. Staff rush to clean up, then huddle together for group photos to memorialize the evening.

After the final song is played, employees rush to clean up the supermarket.

Patrick Bernardo, 34, of Van Nuys looks at the counter, where a man had been chopping lechon, before stepping outside.

“There’s barely anything left on that pig,” he says, pointing to it as proof that the night was a success.

Footage shows security forces dispersing crowds with tear gas at rallies for Ugandan presidential candidate Robert Kyagulanyi, also known as Bobi Wine, in Kampala. The pop star-turned-politician is campaigning ahead of Uganda’s January 2026 elections, as officials warn against interference.

Only a few years ago, Keith Lee was a professional MMA fighter, doing food delivery and making social media videos to ease his social anxiety.

On Thursday night, however, Lee found himself under the glare of bright lights and walking the red carpet outside the historic Hollywood Palladium on Sunset Boulevard about to be recognized as TikTok’s “Creator of the Year.”

He and hundreds of other creators had gathered for TikTok’s first American awards show. And they had good reason to celebrate.

Only a few minutes before the start of the inaugural show, they got word about a deal that would allow TikTok to keep operating in the U.S. through a joint venture controlled by a group of U.S. investors that includes tech giant Oracle Corp. TikTok confirmed the deal in an email to employees and said it is expected to close next month.

“[TikTok] is the best way to reach people and I know so many people who rely on it to support their families,” said Lee, who has 17.3 million followers of his casual restaurant reviews. “For me, it’s my career now so I can’t imagine it not being around.”

Creators — many of whom are based in Southern California — rely on the app as a key source of income, while businesses and brands turn to the platform and its influencers to promote their products.

Many had worried that the app might disappear after the Supreme Court upheld a ban on the platform because of national security concerns raised by President Trump in 2020.

Trump subsequently allowed TikTok, which has offices in Culver City, to keep operating in the U.S. and in September signed an executive order outlining the new joint venture.

Comedy creator Adam W., who attended the awards show, called the news “game changing.”

With 22.6 million followers on TikTok, Adam W. has amassed a massive audience for his videos that parody pop culture trends.

In one, he’s a contestant on “The Bachelor,” surrounded by a line of lookalike blond models; in another, he’s drinking matcha lattes with Will Smith.

“That’s so good to hear,” said Adam W. of the new ownership. “So many people are able to make careers off of TikTok. There’s so many people out there who go to TikTok to get away from their reality and it means a lot to them, so I think it’s really valuable for us to have.”

TikTok said the awards show is intended to celebrate the influencers who’ve helped transform the app into a global force that has shaped the way younger Americans shop and consume entertainment.

“You represent a truly global community of over 1 billion people on TikTok,” Kim Farrell, the app’s global head of creators, said at the event. “This year, you showed the world just how much impact creators have.”

Despite the historic moment, the awards show was not without technical glitches. Screens that were intended to display clips of contestants and visuals during speeches were dark the entire night.

The two-hour show, in which creators received awards in several categories, featured a range of skits parodying TikTok cultural moments, from Jools Lebron telling the crowd to “be demure,” to Rei Ami of K-Pop Demon Hunters shooting a Labubu cannon into the crowd.

“TikTok definitely changed my life,” Lee said in an interview. “I always planned my life around food, so I’m blessed to just turn the camera on and do the same thing.”

The new ownership of TikTok should allow the app to rebound after it lost market share amid uncertainty over its future, said Max Willens, an analyst at EMarketer.

“This past year, because a lot of advertisers weren’t really sure whether TikTok was going to stay or go, it did kind of slow the momentum that we had seen on that platform,” Willens said. “We think that moving forward that is going to wind up just being a blip.”