Greg

May 15 (UPI) — The Texas Supreme Court refused to remove state Rep. Gene Wu, D-Houston, from office, despite the efforts of Gov. Greg Abbott after the 2025 redistricting showdown.

Chief Justice Jimmy Blacklock, who once worked as an Abbott aide, wrote that the courts “have uniformly recognized that it is not their role to resolve disputes between the other two branches that those branches can resolve for themselves.”

“The courts’ institutional ‘reluctance … to involve themselves in contests of factional political power,’ a reluctance we reiterate and reinforce today, is a check on the judicial power ‘of ancient standing,’ not an optional preference we are at liberty to discard,” Blacklock wrote.

The fight stems from August 2025 when Texas began an effort to redistrict the state’s congressional seats to create more Republican-leaning districts. Democrats in the state’s legislature fled Texas to prevent a quorum in the House. They eventually returned, and the measure passed.

Texas House Democratic Caucus Chairman Gene Wu led the charge during the exodus of his party members, drawing the ire of Abbott. The governor had threatened to expel any Texas House members who fled the state, of whom there were more than 50.

Wu posted on X Friday: “Texas House Democrats refused to be complicit as Texas Republicans delivered Donald Trump the extra congressional seats he begged for, and now, Gov. Abbott’s final attempt at revenge has been put to rest.”

Texas House Democrats posted: “Today, we won. We’re not going anywhere.”

Republicans hold 24 of Texas’ 38 seats in the U.S. House, with one vacancy. The new map is expected to add five Republican representatives from the state.

Blacklock indicated the matter could be considered in the future.

“Whatever wrong may have been committed by the absent House members, the Texas Constitution’s internal political remedies, none of which involve the judicial branch, were sufficient to the task of restoring the House’s ability to do business,” Blacklock wrote. “Should those remedies unexpectedly prove inadequate in a future case, we might have occasion to consider whether any judicial remedy could ever be available in circumstances such as these.”

Greg Davies has been called up to host the BAFTA TV Awards for the first time1

Greg Davies is back on our screens tonight as he hosts the BAFTA TV Awards for the very first time.

The 57-year old, known for co-hosting the hit comedy gameshow Taskmaster, follows in the footsteps of Graham Norton, Lenny Henry and Michael Parkinson in his MC role and said it was an opportunity he could not turn down.

“I used to watch Stephen Fry at the Baftas and marvel at his cool, intellectual charm. I won’t be bringing that,” laughed Greg ahead of the show.

The 6ft 8in funnyman shot to fame after starring as headteacher Mr Gilbert in The Inbetweeners and has since become a regular fixture on our screens, thanks to his TV roles in The Cleaner, Brassic, Cuckoo and Man Down.

Speaking as a guest at the BAFTAs last year, Greg gave a rare update on his personal life as he said he was ‘ready for a wife’.

The Taskmaster star and his co-host Alex Horne were nominated in the Entertainment category for their Channel 4 programme alongside The 1% Club, Michael McIntyre’s Big Show and Would I Lie to You?

Speaking on the red carpet, Alex said: “We’re an unlikely couple,” with Greg piping up: “That’s why we’re a good team.”

Alex then added: “And I would like to thank my wife for getting us here tonight,” before Greg joked: “I don’t have a wife so maybe I can thank Alex’s wife.”

Tom insisted he could meet his wife at the star-studded event, with Greg responding: “Maybe I will, I’m open to it. It would be so lovely, it’s been too long and I’m ready now.”

Alex simply quipped: “Lonely”,” as Greg added: “Oh god, the horrible hot lonely tears.”

The Cleaner star was in a relationship with Labour Party politician Liz Kendall between 2007 and 2015, but usually keeps his love life under wraps.

Liz told previously The Mirror about their romance: “I am not going to be the sort of politician who does all that stuff about their private life because it’s very precious to me and really important to me that I have that space that’s personal and just to me. We are not together any more but we remain really good friends.”

In the past Greg has made jokes about his disastrous single life and previously said he ‘gave up’ on romance while on The Graham Norton Show.

Greg said his grandfather once caught him in an embrace with his first girlfriend and the experience left him mortified. “It’s not for me, romance… that was the day I gave up on romance,” he explained. However, Greg counts one ex-girlfriend of changing the course of his life. His former partner, who he has not named, convinced him to switch from his teaching career to one in comedy. Speaking to The Times, he said: “I’ve been doing comedy for about 15 years now. I always wanted to do it, I just never had thick enough skin.

“A girlfriend I had while teaching was a pragmatist and always told me that if you want to do something, then go for it. So eventually I made the switch. Comedy is definitely where I’m happiest.”

During an interview with OK! magazine, Greg admitted that he had quite the crush on former Blue Peter star Janet Ellis, who also happens to be the mother of popstar Sophie Ellie Bextor.

Mortified Greg recalled: “I met Janet Ellis once in a fish and chip shop. I used to have a terrible crush on her, all throughout my childhood. Then I finally met her and said something humiliating, I think chips-based, that guaranteed I would never end up in the relationship I craved.” He added: “I met her daughter Sophie on a show once and told her I fancied her mum and she rolled her eyes and said ‘everyone does’.”

While he was known for playing doting dad Ken in the sitcom Cuckoo, the actor himself does not have any children. He does, however, have lots of experience looking after kids as he was a secondary school drama and English teacher for 13 years before moving into comedy.

That’s not Greg’s only transformation. In recent years the funnyman has admitted to using Ozempic to lose weight after receiving concerning health news from his doctor.

The host claimed to have lost three stone – and named the diabetic medication in an interview. Ozempic is not designed as a weight loss drug and is used instead as a treatment for type 2 diabetes in adults – however, many patients have experienced weight loss as a side effect.

He told The Times: “[I] lost three stone on the old Ozempic, in about four months, before putting most of it back on.” The interview also notes that his doctor warned him that if he was shorter, he would “look obese” – and that he is now considering turning to fasting in an attempt to maintain his weight.

Noting that he is not concerned about ageing, he added: “I think that’s probably good in my game, isn’t it?”

“We don’t go in for that kind of crap that you have back in New York–of being obliged to print both sides. We’re going to beat this son of a bitch Sinclair any way we can. . . . We’re going to kill him.”

The speaker: Kyle Palmer, Los Angeles Times political editor, to Turner Catledge of the New York Times.

The time: 1934, when socialist writer Upton Sinclair, who had just swept the Democratic primary for governor of California, threatened to beat handily the GOP candidate, Frank Merriam, in the November election.

Kyle Palmer, the pope of Southern California right-wing politics, was neither kidding nor exaggerating. Nor was he exceptional in his venom toward Upton Sinclair and his mass movement, End Poverty in California (EPIC). According to Greg Mitchell in his fascinating and valuable study, EPIC “was nothing less than a roundabout route to socialism.” On this point, “Political pundits, financial columnists, and White House aides, for once, agreed: Sinclair’s victory represented the high tide of radicalism in the United States.” This tide had to be pushed back, or California would suffocate under the weight of Sinclair’s “maggot-like horde” of supporters, as the Los Angeles Times called EPICers.

In 1934, a year racked by general strikes and epidemic unemployment, the maverick pamphleteer-novelist Sinclair–author of muckraking tracts like “The Jungle” and the most widely translated American writer abroad–was a menace not only to the so-called Vested Interests. Down deep, he embodied a revulsion felt by many Californians toward the capitalist system. EPIC’s program of production-for-use-not-profit, land colonies, barter exchanges and cooperation versus competition was a potentially deadly blow to the American Dream. It was subversive because it spoke to the misery of desperate, Depression-ruined Americans yearning for relief from the day-to-day savagery of a skewed, inefficient system that seemed to be failing everybody but the very rich. At its height, EPIC enrolled 100,000 members from San Diego to Sacramento, and its newspaper sold 2 million copies.

In “The Campaign of the Century,” Greg Mitchell has chosen to focus not on EPIC itself but “on the cataclysmic response to Sinclair’s emergence as the Democratic nominee.” Thus we learn relatively little about EPIC or about Sinclair, but a lot about the nuts and bolts of the “most astonishing . . . smear campaign ever directed against a major candidate.” Our present-day “media politics” with its emphasis on image over substance, was born in the ferocious, fraudulent anti-Sinclair campaign, says Mitchell.

A subtext of Mitchell’s book is how strongly adherents felt about Sinclair and EPIC. They “came from every strata, although nearly all were white. It was not . . . a poor people’s movement. Most of the activists were middle-class and middle-aged . . . Many were down-on-their-luck businessmen.” Any given EPIC club might include “Utopians, technocrats, Townsendites, progressive Republicans, New Deal Democrats, ex-Socialists and secret Communists, all united by a belief in a perfectible society.” No EPIC, aside from clerical staff, earned a cent from the movement. “Members paid a dollar, penny, or a collar button” to join; “Some EPICs hocked the gold fillings in their teeth to raise money.” Although broad-based and decentralized, “EPIC was far from democratic” and indifferent to unions. And Sinclair’s portrait occupied a holy place in many homes.

In any other state, EPIC might never have flown. But California’s populist tradition, open-mindedness (or wackiness), absence of party bosses or deep ethnic loyalties meant that a challenge to established authority was as relatively easy to mount as it was difficult to organize a counter-revolution. At first, the state’s wealthy were so rattled that their political representatives were caught completely off balance by Sinclair’s spectacular rise. Only loonies had expected him to win the primary, and nobody had been crazy enough to predict he would outpoll all six of his opponents together.

But like a great octopus, California’s Republicans and conservative Democrats, equally terrified of EPIC, slowly thrashed up from the murk of politics-as-usual to deal with the “enemy within.” “The prospect of a socialist governing the nation’s most volatile state,” says Mitchell, “sparked nothing less than a revolution in American politics.”

Spurred by “fear and desperation,” ad men like Albert Lasker and especially Clem Whittaker, hired conservative guns, broke the old rules and “virtually invented the modern media campaign.” Whittaker and his associate Leone Baxter introduced the radical idea that free-lance outsiders like themselves, not party chiefs, would “handle every aspect of a political campaign.” Whittaker’s “cozy relationship” with California’s 700 newspaper publishers meant that local editors were happy to run his press releases “as news stories–even as editorials.” The anti-Sinclair “lie factory” twisted and distorted; but worst of all, his enemies quoted from Upton Sinclair’s own works, in which he had attacked everything from wedded bliss (“marriage plus prostitution”) to religion (“a mighty fortress of graft”) and the Boy Scouts. After his defeat, Sinclair confessed wearily and with justice, “I talk too much. I write too much, too.”

By most accounts, Sinclair was a decent, generous, puritanical man of genuine sweetness. What his blurted half-jokes and honest indiscretions failed to supply, Hollywood and Madison Avenue concocted by way of movie propaganda and, probably even more effectively, radio shots–like an anti-Sinclair “One Man’s Family”-type series. Film studio bosses, alarmed by Sinclair’s not-very-serious threat to socialize movie production, colluded with what a Scripps-Howard reporter called a “reign of unreason bordering on hysteria.” Big-time screenwriters like Carey Wilson and directors like Felix Feist (later of “Peyton Place” fame) were enlisted or dragooned to produce Goebbelsesque films, often using faked footage, that drilled home the message: EPIC equals Armageddon. Studio workers were forced to contribute to Frank Merriam’s campaign. Very few Hollywood stars had the guts to refuse. (Holdouts included James Cagney and Jean Harlow.)

Law ‘n’ order also came to the rescue of the anti-Sinclair forces. Election officials, GOP activists and local district attorneys intimidated EPIC supporters away from the polls by challenging the credentials of at least 150,000 voters and threatening to arrest them. All across the state preachers thundered, “Go and Sinclair no more!” and Aimee Semple McPherson, hungry for respectability after her recent kidnaping hoax, turned against Sinclair, despite the pro-EPIC sympathies of her flock.

Finally, the Democrats themselves carved up EPIC. At first friendly to Sinclair, President Roosevelt, needing conservative support for his faltering New Deal, cut a deal with the Republicans. In return for Frank Merriam converting to a pallid form of New Dealism, the party dumped the divisive Sinclair. Frightened Democrats and “third party” anti-EPICers formed around a candidate named Haight, who may have drawn off enough votes to beat the insurgent–but not by all that much. Final results: Merriam 1,100,000; Sinclair 900,000; Haight 300,000. In defeat, Sinclair received twice as many votes as any previous Democratic candidate for governor.

EPIC soon disappeared in a backlash of internal Red-baiting. (The communists and socialists opposed EPIC, but the Communist Party also tried to take it over.) Sinclair stopped muckraking to write the “Lanny Budd” series of best-sellers. Waves of fright and self-interest quickly covered over EPIC’s writing in the sand. Today, who remembers it?

Later, Sinclair insisted that the EPIC campaign had “changed the whole reactionary tone of the state.” EPIC was “the acorn from which evolved the tree of whatever liberalism we have in California,” claimed state Supreme Court justice Stanley Mosk, a Sinclair supporter in ’34. And as a direct result of EPIC and the studio bosses’ much-resented bullying, “politics in Hollywood moved steadily to the left over the next few years.”

Of course, the Right learned, too. “A number of men who would become legends in California politics, on both sides of the ideological fence, virtually cut their teeth on the ’34 campaign,” writes Mitchell. These included Earl Warren (Merriam’s campaign manager), Asa Call, Edmund G. (Pat) Brown (sending what encoded messages to his son today?), Murray Chotiner, Augustus Hawkins, Cuthbert Olson–a whole generation of pols whose experience taught them just how powerful the rich, who own the media, can be when aroused.

Lessons for liberals are harder to come by in this sizzling, rambunctiously useful book. If we take note of this nation’s recent rash of insurgencies–from Carol Moseley Braun to Ross Perot–maybe one lesson is that nothing good ever completely dies, it just goes to sleep for a while.

BOOK MARK: For an excerpt from “The Campaign of the Century,” see the Opinion section, Page 6.