dark

If anyone needs the axiom “Tell me who you’re with, and I’ll tell you who you are” whispered to them every morning as a reminder to do better, it’s Spencer Pratt.

Can someone do that ASAP, por favor?

Instead of holding events around Los Angeles to convince skeptics that his mayoral campaign is for everyone, the former reality television bad boy has bunkered himself inside an echo chamber of sycophants, friendly podcasters and milquetoast media outlets.

Instead of offering an on-ramp to join his pissed-off posse, he calls Mayor Karen Bass “Basura” — trash — and her supporters “Bassholes,” insults that his followers share and like on social media by the thousands.

Instead of enlisting surrogates to push an uplifting vision for L.A.’s future, Pratt elevates those who speak of the city as a West Coast Chernobyl.

He’s running on a message of righteous fury as a survivor of the Palisades fire, in an era when many Angelenos feel pessimistic about what’s next. In recent months, he’s raised funds at a faster pace than Bass and City Councilmember Nithya Raman and delivered a decent debate performance, while holding strong in the polls with two weeks left before the June 2 primary.

Now that Pratt has shown his electoral quest isn’t a farce, it’s time he shows all Angelenos that they can rely on a Republican entertainer with no political experience to head a largely progressive, multicultural metropolis.

Instead, he continues to double down on his doomsday message, exciting the type of people who have been whining that L.A. is a “Lost Cause” since the days of the Watts riots.

They’re the ones depicting Pratt in AI-generated videos as a superhero — Batman, Luke Skywalker and a gladiator, among others — battling Bass, cast as a clown, Darth Vader, the Joker or as herself handing out needles to half-crazed homeless people.

They hound anyone who points out that L.A. is nowhere near as apocalyptic as they make it out to be, when homicides are at their lowest since the 1960s, burglaries are down 30% from last year and unsheltered homelessness has dropped two years in a row. They follow Pratt’s example and call unhoused people with drug problems “zombies” and “bums” while depicting the L.A. of the past as a problem-free playground out of “The Wonderful World of Disney” that derailed once Democrats took over.

Not all of Pratt’s supporters are this obnoxious. But he repeatedly platforms the worst of them and shows no signs of stopping. That nihilism might sell books and gain followers — but it’s no way to prove to Angelenos he’s serious about fixing anything other than his reputation.

Mayoral candidate Spencer Pratt, left, poses with a supporter during a campaign event in Sherman Oaks.

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

Anyone who truly loves the city complains about it even on its best days. They realize L.A. can never be perfect, and that’s what makes it so wonderful. When people try to better their part of paradise, everyone benefits.

But Pratt needs to realize that Angelenos don’t want the city to be torn down, as dissatisfied as they may be. Criticizing the status quo is necessary — but waging a campaign of humiliation, a la Donald Trump, isn’t how to heal L.A. It won’t get large swaths of the city on your side, and it can’t spark the true change City Hall so desperately needs.

Instead, we get people like former Times contributor Meghan Daum — who now calls herself the “official Liberal Elite for Pratt” — gushing in the Atlantic about how her man is the “factory-reset option” to Make L.A. Great Again.

Resetting to when, Meghan? The 2000s of the Great Recession? The 1990s of anti-immigrant policies, the Northridge earthquake and the riots? The 1980s and its out-of-control gangs? The white flight of the 1960s? The 1950s of legal segregation and hideous smog?

Or just to the days when the problems that have long racked L.A. didn’t lap up to the denizens of Prattland — until they did?

These are the people who stayed largely silent as Trump unleashed ICE goons across Los Angeles last summer. They said nothing about housing affordability and violent crime in the years when those issues primarily afflicted South L.A. and the Eastside. They didn’t have a fit about homelessness until encampments spread beyond Skid Row.

Pratt’s loudest fans fundamentally loathe modern-day L.A., and that should chill all other Angelenos. These haters would be his primary constituents and populate his brain trust if he does beat Bass — and if he lets them take over, heaven help the City of Angels.

I’m not discounting Pratt’s chances of winning — he’s too savvy a media pro to fully flop. I knew Bass and Raman would misjudge the anger of Angelenos, fail to capitalize on that rage and find themselves on the defensive against Pratt’s populist push. I also figured he would eschew politeness for the demonizing that has tainted past L.A. elections, from Yorty’s mayoral campaigns of the 1960s to the San Fernando Valley secession movement a generation ago to the continued charges of communism thrown at the democratic socialist wing of the City Council.

I don’t blame Pratt for jumping into the race after his life was upended. And I sure don’t underestimate L.A.’s middle-class malaise, long a reactionary force in city politics with a winning track record that spans decades. But I can’t trust the guy and his crew for just now beginning to say they care about reforming L.A., when all he has fought for is his dark idea of the city.

And if you think L.A. needs a complete makeover, then you probably never really loved it in the first place.

On a recent podcast with Adam Carolla — who has long railed against L.A.’s liberal, multicultural ways and is planning to move to Nevada after his children graduate high school — Pratt huffed that he will “be done with trying to live” in the city if he doesn’t become mayor.

“I’ll go find somewhere that my kids will not have to see naked zombies,” he said, in a comment that was cheered on and seconded by his online army.

Do Angelenos really want to entrust their city to someone who might pick up his ball and quit on a place he professes to love, if he doesn’t get his way?

PLUCKED from obscurity and then dropped when fans lose interest, men in reality TV shows often fare worse than their female counterparts.

While women regularly earn a fortune from brand endorsements, the guys can find themselves struggling after they are no longer on our TV screens.

Now the untimely deaths of The Only Way Is Essex cast members Jake Hall and Jordan Wright within a few months of each other has raised fears that ITV is failing in its duty of care for former reality TV stars.

Jake, 35, died last week in a Spanish villa following a night of partying while Jordan, 33 was found dead in a ditch in Thailand in March.

A TV insider told The Sun: “The tragic deaths of Jake and Jordan have raised some serious red flags.

“No one is blaming ITV but there is definitely a pattern which emerges time and time again on all reality shows.

“Measures were put in place a number of years ago but it doesn’t seem to be enough.”

Artist and designer Jake, who joined Towie in 2015, had been living in Spain.

He was found dead in a pool of blood in a villa in Majorca last Wednesday morning after he seemingly crashed through a window.

A police source said witnesses described Jake as “agitated”, possibly from “alcohol and other substances he may have consumed”.

He had a number of struggles in recent years, from losing his fashion brand Prevu to being hit with a restraining order by ex-girlfriend Misse Beqiri, a model and the mother of his eight-year-old daughter River.

Yet right from the start of his telly career, Jake was open about being uncomfortable with fame.

Shortly after his debut on Towie, Jake said on This Morning: “The privacy part has been quite difficult because everyone knows your life within days of being on the show.”

Jordan, from Basildon, Essex, also admitted he struggled with life in the spotlight.

The former firefighter said: “I had an enjoyable career for six years before I resigned to pursue a life in the limelight of reality TV — a choice that left me hugely unfulfilled, stagnant and lost.

“People think it’s glitz and glamour but the truth is very far from public perception.

“I really struggled.

“When I left I lost a huge part of myself and my sense of purpose.”

Jordan returned to firefighting in 2023 but he struggled to settle and in December moved to Thailand where he was looking forward to a “very exciting year ahead”.

He shared his new life with his 21,500 Instagram followers, but in March was found dead face down in a drainage canal on the island of Phuket.

CCTV footage appeared to show Jordan pacing erratically outside a hotel before bolting out of the complex shortly before his body was found.

Unfortunately, the two deaths were not Towie’s first.

In January 2021, Mick Norcross took his own life, aged 57.

The Sugar Hut owner and businessman had joined the show with his son Kirk, who now runs a waste removal business.

Addiction has also taken hold of a number of cast members, including James Argent, who suffered two near-fatal overdoses at home.

Arg’s drug binges cost him his relationship with co-star Lydia Bright, his job on Towie and other high- profile TV work.

Last year he was in trouble after pushing his former Miss Sweden partner Nicoline Artursson down some steps on holiday in Spain.

He admitted an offence of gender violence and was given a six-month prison sentence, suspended for two years.

Jake and Jordan’s deaths sent shockwaves through fans of Towie and its stars.

Charlie King, who was on the show in 2012 and 2013, has faced his own demons since he left the programme but believes his fellow cast members must “take responsibility”.

He told The Sun: “Reality stars in general are seeking something — whether it’s fame, attention or validation.

“It’s a two-way street — stars want to appear on the shows for that lifestyle and experience, and shows need the participants.

“I can’t say Towie gave me the best support when I finished on the show.

“I remember feeling lost and redundant, trying to navigate a life post the show and still having eyes on me.

“It was hard.

“I missed the show deeply and all that came with it.

“I think access to a counsellor or therapy in those first months or years after appearing is always a good idea.

“But I also don’t think it’s fair to point the finger at these shows for how individuals live their lives after — we have to take responsibility.”

Charlie added that producers offer much better support for their on-screen talent these days and that ITV “isn’t afraid to pull out cast members if they think it’s getting too much or they need a breather, which is great to see”.

Following his stint on Towie, Charlie was diagnosed with body dysmorphia and had a botched nose job.

Other lads from the show have also gone under the knife in a quest for perfection.

Bobby Norris is now almost unrecognisable after having a full deep plane facelift, neck lift and lower eyelid surgery.

James Lock has also battled body dysmorphia and says he has spent around £100,000 on getting work done.

On rival ITV show Love Island, telly bosses brought in a revised set of welfare measures in 2021, including “comprehensive” psychological support, after former stars Sophie Gradon and Mike Thalassitis took their own lives.

Their relatives blamed a lack of support from the show for contributing to their mental anguish.

Love Islanders are offered a minimum of eight therapy sessions when they return home.

They also get advice on coping with their finances.

But unlike Love Island, Towie cast members often appear on the show for years at a time.

A number of its former stars, including Yazmin Oukhellou and Tommy Mallet, have praised the support they have received while on the show — but what happens when the cameras stop rolling?

A telly insider revealed: “When women finish on a reality show, brand deals, an influencing career and other avenues are open to them — but it’s very different for men.

“They can get club PAs but that involves late nights and lots of booze.

“Some people like Jake or Tommy launch a career in fashion, but many struggle to achieve the dizzy heights they once enjoyed.”

Women, meanwhile, have made millions off the back of Towie, thanks to very successful business models.

Former glamour model Sam Faiers owns global collagen brand Revive and is worth £9million, and Gemma Collins is now a huge TV star with £7million in the bank.

Lucy Mecklenburgh — famed for throwing drinks on cheating Mario Falcone — now owns a thriving fitness brand and shows off her happy life on social media.

But there have also been a number of male Towie successes too.

Mark Wright landed I’m A Celebrity and Strictly at a time when Z-listers were reportedly banned, as well as enjoying a stint on US TV.

Now a radio DJ, he is married to actress Michelle Keegan, and the couple live in a £3.5million Essex mansion with one-year-old daughter Palma.

Joey Essex also became a huge breakout star.

These days he is worth at least £10millon thanks to a lucrative reality TV career, savvy personal branding and business ventures.

Another success story is Tommy Mallet, who launched luxury footwear and apparel brand Mallet London and more recently Ctrne trainers.

Tommy, Joey and Mark are living up to Towie’s theme tune The Only Way Is Up — and fans will hope there will be more men from the show who enjoy similar success.

ITV was approached for comment but declined.

Fans of documentaries packed with twists and turns are being urged to give this one a go

Documentary fans are being urged to watch a “stranger than fiction” film that is often ignored.

Three Identical Strangers was one of the top suggestions offered after a Redditor asked for “blow your socks off” documentaries to watch that were not widely known about.

The BAFTA-nominated film, which has a run time of just over an hour and a half, tells the story of triplets – Bobby Shafran, Eddy Galland and David Kellman – who were separated at birth. They were not told that they were triplets and so knew nothing about each other.

In an incredible twist of fate, the trio find themselves crossing paths with each other as young adults in the eighties, purely coincidentally. The amazing story catapults them to celebrity status and they live together, make movie cameos and start their own business, but as they dig deeper into their past, they discover a horrifying truth that changes their lives forever.

“I’m looking for documentaries and I love all types except for murder mystery because they’re typically all the same,” the original Reddit post began. “Could you guys suggest a few documentaries that completely caught you by surprise and you always recommend it to people because of that?”

Under the suggestion of Three Identical Strangers, one person remarked: “I remember this documentary. It made me so angry. But, producers did a great job telling the story.”

“Yess this is one I would typically scroll past but wow it was definitely one of the best,” admitted one viewer who gave it a shot. A third fan added that the story told in the film “felt impossible.”

While it is no longer available on Netflix, the film – described by many as ‘dark’ – can currently be viewed on YouTube, Apple TV and Prime Video for a small fee. Boasting a 96 per cent critics rating on Rotten Tomatoes and 88 per cent from audiences, the viewer consensus seems to be that it is a worthwhile watch for any documentary fan.

“Starting as a fascinating curiosity, the movie takes a dramatic and breath-taking turn to expose a much more unsettling story. Really great documentary,” another viewer said, rating it five stars.

“Classic case of reality being far stranger than fiction. Watch this and you’ll be rewarded (if that’s the proper way of putting it) with a story so wild you’d think it’s made up. Yet this is a documentary,” said yet another bowled over viewer.

Three Identical Strangers is currently available to watch on YouTube, Apple TV and Prime Video for an additional fee.

Social media is full of posts showing off photos and videos of fancy-looking cafes and restaurants in Gaza. Pro-Israeli accounts often use these images to claim that life is back to normal in Gaza, that people are not suffering and that no genocide ever took place.

These cafes and restaurants do exist. I have seen them myself.

In late March, I went on my first visit to Gaza City since the war started. I was shocked to see the destruction wrought on the city. There were piles of rubble at every corner. Unable to recognise the streets, I felt as if I were strolling through a maze. I soon arrived at an area nearby that shocked me even more. It was full of new cafes that did not exist before the war.

These were not makeshift or temporary places as one might expect; they were built with expensive materials, carefully painted, furnished with tables, sofas, and elegant chairs, with glass facades and shining lights. A luxury feel emanated from them. They looked so out of place amid the rubble and the half-collapsed buildings that it felt almost surreal to see them.

These new establishments do not prove that normality is coming back to Gaza. They are a testament to its continuing genocidal abnormality.

The war made some people in Gaza rich, especially those who engaged in illicit activities like smuggling, looting, and hoarding during acute shortages. This wealth is now coming out in various forms, including luxury cafes and restaurants.

In parallel, the vast majority of Gaza’s population has been thrown into abject poverty. While before the war, the average person was able to afford to sit at a cafe and have a drink and a bite to eat, today this is no longer the case.

Most people cannot even look at these new places, let alone enter them and order something. The vast majority of Gaza’s population lives in tents, has no electricity or potable water, and suffers from the loss of livelihoods. They are surviving on what little aid Israel is allowing through.

I am one of them. My family and I live in a tent pitched near the rubble of our home in the Nuseirat camp. We have lost our family livelihood. The comfortable life we used to have is now just a distant memory.

The expensive new establishments reflect the deeply unjust social order that has emerged in Gaza – one where war profiteering has elevated a new privileged class and collapsed the vast majority into misery with no access to proper education, healthcare and even food. The genocide did not just kill and maim people and destroy homes and schools; it eliminated the prospect of a normal life for most people in Gaza.

I could not afford the fancy cafes, so I continued down the street till I reached a more modest restaurant, which used to go to with friends before the war. Entering it felt like stepping back in time to the days before the war; the place was the same, with the same chairs and tables, and the familiar smells that filled the space.

I sat and observed, dwelling on fond memories of spending time there after university lectures. I ordered what I used to order: a chicken wrap, a soda and a small salad plate. The bill was 60 shekels ($20) – more than three times what I would pay before the war, when my family actually had a normal income.

The restaurant bill, together with the fare I paid for a shared ride to get to Gaza City (15 shekels or $5 one way), cost me a fortune. I felt guilty spending all this money to enjoy a glimpse of normalcy.

The few who are fortunate enough to be able to afford going to cafes and restaurants in Gaza may enjoy short moments of relief, a temporary escape from the horrors of reality. Yet these moments are limited, often accompanied by anxiety about returning to the destroyed streets, the bombed-out landscape and the trauma.

As I sat at Al-Taboon, I thought of the friends with whom I used to spend time: Rama, who was martyred and Ranan, who escaped to Belgium. I sat there alone, holding on to these memories amid the greyness of Gaza’s rubble and the lights of the generator-powered cafés.

The genocide has devasted everyone – even those who have profiteered from it. No amount of time spent in shiny cafes and restaurants will ever erase this reality.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

With its sunsoaked Californian desert setting, A-list celeb guests and top music acts, hip US festival Coachella might look like the dream destination when scrolling through the Instagram feed of one of the myriad of Love Island stars in attendance.

But while influencers are given the VIP experience, thanks to the brands who pay big bucks to take them there for free, the reality for normal punters can be a whole different story.

As the cult festival kicks off its second consecutive weekend in Palm Springs, social media has been awash with complaints from regular folk exposing the ‘truth’ about what it’s like to go there as a non VIP – and it makes for some pretty grim reading.

From nightmarish queues for cold showers, to hefty £3,000 price tags for three days at the event, various TikTok testimonials may make you think twice before booking for next year’s gig.

As someone who went as a normal person and not as an influencer, it was one of the worst concert experiences I’ve ever had,” TikTok user @lottiestars ranted in a recent social media video.

“Firstly, there’s no place for you to be dropped off. The festival is, like, really disorganised. So I remember we asked 20 different people: ‘Where do we go?’ and they they were like: ‘Oh, we don’t know’. And they actually worked for the event! So you’ll end up sitting in traffic for most of the time before you can find a spot and get dropped off.”

PARTIED HARD

Love Island’s Chloe & Millie admit they were thrown OUT of VIP at Coachella

PEACHY SNAP

Sabrina Carpenter flashes bum in tiny denim hotpants ahead of Coachella

She added that when she then finally arrived, the event proved a nightmare for her pal who was disabled.

“You have another what feels like an hour long walk to actually get into the festival, you have to do is on this super dusty, bumpy, unpaved road, which was really hard for my friend because they were in a wheelchair… they kept getting knocked over and falling out of their wheelchair, so it was not like wheelchair accessible.”

Once inside the venue, Lottie alleged that the atmosphere was not enjoyable thanks to a myriad of influencers creating a stressful environment.

“Everyone’s vibe is really, really bad. A lot of people were pretty mean. They’re like, ‘No, you’re not coming this way and stuff, you can’t go through’ so it’s harder to work your way through the crowd or to reconnect through your friends.

“It’s not as easy to take cute pictures as you think. Literally, everyone’s taking pictures. It’s like a field of cow, but instead of cows, it’s people.”

To top it all, Lottie wrapped up her video by claiming she got sick from the notorious desert winds.

She said: “I was so sick because during the daytime, it’s burning hot, and then at nighttime, it’s freezing cold, and the dust is really, really intense. Like, you’ll blow your nose, and they’ll be black dirt coming out of your nose.

“The third night, I couldn’t even enjoy the festival, and I probably was only there for like 30 minutes and I had to leave.”

And it seems this is far from a one-off negative review.

The Strokes fan @emilyjadebispo says her experience watching her favourite band was ruined by influencers who were only there to watch Justin Bieber and had no idea about ‘festival etiquette’.

She claimed: “The people around me who were there for Justin Bieber were f***ing insufferable. Oh, my God. It’s like they have never been to a festival before. They have no idea what it’s like that other genres exist.

“They are just completely unaware of any sort of concert etiquette at all. The people to my left, during one of my favourite bands sets, were talking the entire time saying: ‘I don’t even know who this is. What even is this? This is really honestly killing my vibe for Bieber.’”

For those who camp and aren’t holed up in pricey villas like the influencer crowd, some describe the experience as “endurance training.”

@huioyg3 said in one TikTok video: “Basic shower access has turned into a survival challenge, people are waiting in line for hours just to get a quick rinse, often with freezing cold water.

“To avoid this nightmare, some festival goers are spending hundreds of dollars on portable shower setups, building their own tents just to maintain a sense of hygiene.

“Another issue is making things worse, extreme heat. Phones are overheating, energy levels are dropping, and what’s supposed to be a fun four day experience is starting to feel more like endurance training.”

Of course, the biggest issue for many is how the festival impacted their wallet.

General admission tickets cost around $799 [£590] for three days, while VIP – which allows you to get closer to the stage and gives you a shuttle pass into the venue – will mean you shell out even more, clocking in around $1299 [£959].

“Coachella started as a low price event to protest against high cost events,” one music fan vented online.

“How are people affording this?” fumed another.

Some, however, claimed it was worth the price of VIP.

“It was 100% worth it We do get closer viewing to some of the stages. And honestly, when the big performers do come out, it gets super packed,” said tiktok user @noesilva

If you shun camping though, hotels can be extortionate due to high demand, as Noa explains.

“Next thing I spent money on was a hotel, which was the most expensive part. It was $2,300 [£1698] for three nights, and I know it sounds like a lot of money, but for me personally, I was not going to go camping.

And finally, you got to think of all the extra expenses that are probably gonna be happening during the trip, which is food, drinks, merch, like all the extra stuff that you’re going to be paying for, and realistically, that’s going to cost me around $500 [£370]. So in total, this trip is costing me around $4,000 [£2950].”

Another furious former Coachella fan, Nick Holiday, summed it up in a top-rated TikTok video.

“They’re charging $100 [£74]for one bite of caviar, four chicken nuggets and seven french fries. That’s honestly a crime against humanity.”