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Hull was once mocked and named the worst place to live in the UK. However, it has now been included on the Naitonal Geographic’s best place to visit – the only UK destination to get the nod

A UK city that has long been the butt of the public’s jokes has been named one of the best places in the world to visit.

Hull has rightly been included in National Geographic’s list of ‘the best places in the world to travel to in 2026’, the only UK destination to make the list. Despite excelling itself as the country’s City of Culture in 2017, it’s fair to say Hull receives a disproportionate—and unfair—amount of jibes.

When I lived in York, which is just 37 miles away across Yorkshire, the snobbery directed towards the city of 267,000 was rife and rarely concealed. Many of the jokes came from those who had never visited Hull. Had they taken the time to hop on a train and made the hour-long journey from North to East Yorkshire, I’m sure their eyes would’ve been opened.

Back in 2003, an extremely well-publicised hardback book proclaimed Hull the UK’s most awful hellhole. The Idler Book Of Crap Towns: The 50 Worst Places To Live In The UK wrote of the town: “No matter what happens to me in later life, no matter where I live, or how bad things are, I will know that it can never, ever be as bad as living in Hull”

READ MORE: Tourists say charming UK village ‘frozen in time’ with car-free streetsREAD MORE: Underrated European hotspot is named one of world’s best places for 2026

Writing in National Geographic, Lorna Parkes explains quite how wrong some people are when it comes to Hull, and some of the joys that await those yet to visit.

“At the edge of the North Sea, Hull was one of the world’s busiest whaling ports in the 19th century and a fishing and shipping hub until the 20th, before falling on hard times. Over the past decade, the city has undergone significant revitalization,” she writes.

“Warehouses around Humber Street’s old waterside Fruit Market are now lively independent bars, restaurants, and art galleries. There’s also a spectacular performance amphitheatre, called Stage@TheDock, overlooking River Hull where it meets the Humber Estuary; and a former shipyard has for over 20 years been the base for The Deep, one of the United Kingdom’s most highly respected aquariums and marine conservation centres.”

There are good things on the horizon for Hull. Next year, a £40 million project to promote Hull’s maritime heritage wraps up. A network of new interpretive sites aims to bring 800 years of seafaring history to life. Among them are the Hull Maritime Museum, the North End Shipyard two-storey visitors centre, and two permanently docked museum ships: the 1960s Arctic Corsair cod trawler and the Spurn lightship.

A new Maritime Heritage Trail now winds through the city’s Georgian Old Town, which takes in new green spaces and public art inspired by the city’s ties to the sea.

The Express’s Samantha Teasdale visited Hull this summer. “Despite its notorious reputation as the ‘worst place to live’, I found myself pleasantly surprised by the charm of Hull,” she wrote.

“As I meandered through the lively streets under the warm sun, cooled by a gentle breeze, I was delighted I’d made the trip. The sight of pride flags fluttering on numerous buildings added to the allure. The streets were buzzing with chatter, but it wasn’t until I heard the popping of prosecco bottles that I realised why the area was so bustling.

“Graduates in their gowns and hats filled every pub, restaurant, and street corner. Memories of my own graduation brought a smile to my face.”

Samantha’s favourite part of the city was the marina. “There, I unearthed a treasure trove of hidden gems – quaint cafés, charming restaurants and other businesses that you wouldn’t stumble upon unless you dared to venture past the construction works,” she continued.

“Happily perched on a bench by the marina, next to the aquarium, I found myself gazing out at the sea and musing over how Hull seemed rather delightful. Could it really be such a dreadful place to reside?

“Hull has a lot to offer, and while I may not have ventured into the ‘rough parts’, I believe it’s a city that is often misunderstood and is striving to reinvent itself. I’m eager to return.”

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Watching comedians perform under the thumb of a government that is actively attacking swaths of its population is nothing new for Angelo Colina.

The 31-year-old joke teller was born and raised in the Venezuelan city of Maracaibo as the South American country faced continuous political turmoil under the prolonged presidencies of Hugo Chavez and Nicolás Maduro, among other economic, humanitarian and democratic challenges — such as hyperinflation, increased rates of starvation and decreased access to adequate healthcare services.

Colina — who carved a lane in the Americas as a Spanish-language comedian and has garnered millions of views across social media due to his whip-smart jokes and playful crowd work — left his home country at 21 and began pursuing a comedy career after moving to the neighboring Colombia.

It was the audacity of Venezuelan acts — like Nacho Redondo, Led Varela, Erika de la Vega and Luis Chataing, who spoke out against oppressive government rule — that inspired Colina and informed his worldview.

“As someone who grew up watching [them] perform and doing jokes about the government in Venezuela while they still could, that was my example,” Colina told The Times. “They really fought censorship as long as they could.”

As a self-described “double immigrant,” first to Colombia and subsequently Salt Lake City, the New York-based comedian said he felt as though he’s already lived four lives — all of which have helped shape his comic eye and sharpened his observational skills.

The current political climate, the continued artistic acceptance of Latino art in the U.S. and the ongoing Immigration and Customs Enforcement raids throughout the country were at the top of mind as Colina spoke with The Times ahead of his Oct. 11 performance at the Hollywood Improv.

This interview has been edited and shortened for clarity.

What has it been like doing comedy shows for a Spanish-speaking crowd in the time of ICE raids?

I start my shows by saying, “We’re doing comedy. You guys are not noticing, but we’re doing comedy in Spanish. In the United States in 2025. This is the closest to punk that we’ve ever been.” And people start laughing about it, because [federal officials] backed up by the law to say that if you speak Spanish, then they can ask about your current immigration status. And it’s like, all right, let’s speak Spanish. We’re not doing anything wrong. We’re just celebrating our culture in every show we do.

Do you like the idea of being a little punk?

I think it just became that; it was more organic. I wasn’t thinking that I’m part of a larger movement that started by other people of doing comedy in Spanish, which has always been and it’s certainly been a cool thing to me, but now it’s counterculture for sure. But I don’t need to invite people to my show because it’s counterculture, that’s not the reason why I want to sell. People have been freely celebrating being Latino for years already and I don’t think there’s any way to stop it, honestly.

Have you felt a change in your audience at all in recent months?

Unfortunately, I have. I do, however, have to give a shout-out to all the non-Latinos coming to the shows. They are coming because they want to see a form of Latinidad in its own rhythm and they are in love with our culture and they come and they support it.

I see the hesitance to come to shows a lot more with people that used to come with their parents. A lot of people born in the States, but with immigrants parents, used to come to my shows. My shows have always been a place where people finally can do something with their parents. Normally, they don’t find a lot of activities where they can share something like that. So their parents are now the ones that are faster on the joke and they are the ones that are catching up. It’s always been part of my whole demographic.

That’s the shift I’ve been seeing. A lot of people have reached out to me and said, “I would love to go to your show, but I don’t think it’s a good idea right now.” I got a lot of Venezuelans coming to my shows and saying, “This is the last show I’m going to in the States. I’m leaving next week. I got a deportation letter.” I got screenshots of it and they’re saying they’ll see me in Colombia or Argentina. It’s been pretty emotional. Honestly, this might be the first time I actually get emotional talking about it, but it’s hurt a bit.

It must be nice for the audience to have that time at your show to be who they are, but are you addressing the craziness of everything in your act?

I’m not pretending that’s not happening out there. Comedy gave me the opportunity to become a resident in the United States. I got my visa because of the people coming to my shows. It would be disgraceful for me not to talk about what’s happening or not to at least try to be of help, even if it’s by making people laugh.

Has it been difficult navigating the U.S. comedy scene as a fully Spanish act?

I would say dealing with the industry can be tougher sometimes because of the lack of awareness of how powerful Latino crowds can be. Luckily, it’s changing a bit because of musicians like Bad Bunny and Karol. Everything artists like them have done has made people organizing shows say, “Hmm, let’s see. Maybe I won’t give the Spanish act a Tuesday night slot. Let me try them on a Thursday or Friday night or a Sunday.” And then they see the room packed and people spending money, just having a great time.

I complained a lot about the industry last year and now I’m in a phase where I just want to do this for my people for as long as I can. I’m just enjoying being able to perform.

How has it been seeing Latinos in the U.S. further embrace Spanish-language content?

It’s not only Latinos; people from all backgrounds are interested in our culture. In L.A., a lot of Latinos that were born here didn’t have the chance to learn Spanish or practice it as much, but they love the culture. You also see a lot of people that are non-Latino at my show because they’re interested in Spanish.

It’s like music. There’s no merengue in English because there’s no need for merengue in English. If you are a non-Spanish speaker and you like the rhythm, you’re gonna come to the music. And that’s happening at my show and I’m learning how to navigate it. Sometimes I see people making faces and you don’t hear the laugh coming back at you. Then the show ends and everyone’s DMing me and then they’re signing at the very end of the DM because white people love doing that.

All unhappy families of addicts are unhappy in their own way. Unless, of course, you’re a stage family, overrun with “characters” who don’t so much speak as deliver laugh lines and dispense nuggets of moral wisdom. Those families tend to be all alike, regardless of the superficial differences among them.

Grandparents play a larger role than usual in Jake Brasch’s “The Reservoir,” which opened Thursday at the Geffen Playhouse under the direction of Shelley Butler. But the theater’s ability to turn family dysfunction, be it alcoholism, Alzheimer’s or just garden-variety existential agony, into entertainment and instant illumination, has long been a staple of the American stage.

My tolerance for the artificiality of the genre may be lower than most theatergoers. Some take comfort in hoary comic patterns, souped-up eccentricity and reassuring pieties. Overexposed to this species of drama, I slump in my seat.

Indeed, my patience was as thin for “The Reservoir” as it was for “Cult of Love,” Leslye Headland’s drama about a family breakdown during the holidays that made it to Broadway last season after its 2018 premiere at L.A.’s IAMA Theatre. Neither play is beyond pandering to its audience for an easy laugh.

Serving as protagonist and narrator, Josh (Jake Horowitz), the queer Jewish theater student on medical leave from NYU who wakes up one morning after an alcoholic bender at a reservoir in his hometown of Denver, exhibits the snappy, manic banter of a drunk not able to face up to his problem. Patricia (Marin Hinkle), his long-suffering mother, has had it with Josh’s relapses, but how can she turn away her son who lies bleeding on her couch?

With his mother’s help, Josh gets a job as a clerk at a bookstore as he tries once again to pull his life together. Fortunately, Hugo (Adrián González), his manager, is quick to overlook his lax performance. Apparently, drinking has so scrambled Josh’s brain that alphabetizing books takes every ounce of his strength.

Marin Hinkle, left, Lee Wilkof, Jake Horowitz, Geoffrey Wade and Liz Larsen in “The Reservoir.”

(Jeff Lorch)

I didn’t quite feel as indulgent toward Josh, but not because I didn’t sympathize with his struggles. My beef was that he sounded like an anxious playwright determined to string an audience along without forced exuberance and sitcom-level repartee. (Compare, say, one of Josh’s rants with those of a character in a Terrence McNally, Richard Greenberg or Jon Robin Baitz comedy, and the drop off in verbal acuity and original wit will become crystal clear.)

What gives “The Reservoir” a claim to uniqueness is the way Josh’s four grandparents are conscripted not just into the story but into the staging. Seated in a row onstage, they serve as chorus to their grandson’s travails, chiming in with their own opinions and acting out his description of the way his thoughts compulsively take over his mind, like an unstoppable train or a raging river.

Each also has an individual role to play in Josh’s recovery. Patricia’s mother, Irene (Carolyn Mignini), for example, has been transformed by dementia since Josh has seen her last. She’s always been his favorite grandparent. He fondly recalls baking cookies, playing Uno and singing along to “The Sound of Music” with her. Even when she pulled away after he came out in high school, his affection has remained steadfast.

He would like to connect with her again and fears he has lost his chance. At the bookstore, he reads up on Alzheimer’s disease and hatches a plan to build up the cognitive reserve of all his grandparents by feeding them spinach and keeping them mentally engaged. He’s trying, in effect, to save himself by saving them, but they’re too feisty to be corralled by their unstable grandson.

Irene’s fiercely protective husband, Hank (Geoffrey Wade), an arch religious conservative, is too grumpy. As for Josh’s paternal Jewish grandparents, Shrimpy (Lee Wilkof) is too much of a practical joker with sex on his mind. And Beverly (Liz Larsen), an electrical engineer who doesn’t mince words, is too gimlet-eyed not to see that Josh is focusing on his grandparents to avoid doing the hard work of recovery.

Having been sober for many decades herself, Bev recognizes the narcissism of addiction, the way addicts have a tendency to put themselves at the center of the universe. She offers Josh the tough love that he needs, forcing him to see that a grandparent isn’t just a grandparent but a human being with a complicated history that needn’t be worn like a Kleenex visible from under a sleeve.

Josh sets out to be a savior but ends up getting an education in the reality of other people. Brasch’s intentions are noble, but “The Reservoir” doesn’t plunge all that deep. The play draws out the distinctiveness of the grandparents by ratcheting up their zingy eccentricities. How easily these characters fall into a punch-line rhythm. Larsen has the most consequential role and she imparts just the right note of astringency. But the staginess of the writing makes it difficult for any of the actors to transcend the shtick that’s been assigned to them.

Hinkle brings a depth of realism to her portrayal of Patricia, but the character isn’t fully developed. Whole dimensions of Patricia’s life are veiled to us. Both Hinkle and Gonazález gamely play other characters, but these sketched presences compound the general impression of a comic world drawn without much nuance.

The staging is frolicsome but visually monotonous — a problem for a play that is much longer than it needs to be. More than two hours of looking at the fey-preppy outfit costume designer Sara Ryung Clement prepared for Horowitz’s Josh becomes a kind of fashion purgatory for audience and protagonist alike.

I’m not sure why a production that doesn’t take a literal approach to settings has to repeatedly trot out the front seat of a car. The spry assistance of stagehands, who not only move set pieces but help flesh out the world of the play, is a jaunty touch. But the sound and lighting effects get rather heavy-handed during Josh’s hallucinatory meltdowns. Blame for the inexcusably clunky dream scenes, a writing fail, can’t be pinned on the designers.

Horowitz had the Geffen Playhouse’s opening-night audience in the palm of his hand, but I heard an actor playing his comic lines more than his character. Horowitz, however, is only following the direction of a playwright, who has a harrowing story to tell and needs you to enjoy every tricked-up minute of the zany-schmaltzy telling.

“M3GAN 2.0” is another shiny display case for its violent antiheroine, an artificially intelligent doll with little regard for human life. In the new movie, there are two of them: Meet AMELIA, a lithesome blond who opens the film decimating a bunker somewhere near the border of Turkey and Iran. The robot babe’s name stands for Autonomous Military Engagement Logistics and Infiltration Android, and one can imagine the real White House asking if we can actually build her.

This fledgling franchise has rewired itself from horror to action-comedy. Bigger and goofier than the 2022 hit, “M3GAN 2.0” is content to be this summer’s fidget spinner: an amusement soon forgotten. You can easily accuse returning director Gerard Johnstone (who’s taken over screenwriting duties too) of assembling it from other movies’ nuts and bolts. He’s not hiding his influences, including “The Terminator,” “Metropolis” and the head-spinning theatrics of “The Exorcist.” It’s a magpie movie that’s happy to give audiences the tinselly things they want — i.e., two robots clobbering the Wi-Fi out of each other. But Johnstone creates openings for his own shaggy sense of humor. I’m excited to keep tabs on the promising New Zealander.

The snippy robot begins the film with her body destroyed but her ego as big as ever. M3GAN, voiced by Jenna Davis and embodied by both an animatronic puppet and the young dancer Amie Donald, will be reconstructed and built back better — and taller, as the physically gifted Donald has herself aged from 12 to 15. As an interim step, M3GAN gets temporarily placed in a tiny teal bot with flipper hands named Moxie, who seems adorable unless you know that Moxie was a real AI emotional support doll launched in 2020 that was abruptly bricked last year, teaching kids a sad lesson in startup funding and, in essence, death. (You can find videos online of people saying goodbye to their comatose friend.)

Meanwhile, M3GAN’S creator Gemma (a droll Allison Williams) is out of prison and rebranding herself as an anti-technology crusader. “You wouldn’t give your child cocaine — why would you give them a smartphone?” she hectors, while her bland do-gooder boyfriend Christian (Aristotle Athari) enlists the United Nations to fight back against the creeping omnipotence of AI. Cady (Violet McGraw), Gemma’s 12-year-old orphaned niece, wants a career in computer science. Gemma prefers that she concentrate on soccer.

Smartly, these films don’t create a phony dichotomy between tender humans and cold machinery. Gemma’s interpersonal skills could use an update. She can’t connect to her young charge. Hilariously and hypocritically, she orders Cady around with zero respect for the child’s free will. When Cady insists that she’s not sleepy enough to go to bed, Gemma snaps, “Take a melatonin.”

What interests Johnstone here is how biological and synthetic beings blend together. Gemma and her colleagues Cole and Tess (Brian Jordan Alvarez and Jen Van Epp) are designing a mechanized exoskeleton that would allow a human worker to toss around concrete blocks as breezily as a penny (although when it glitches, Cole can’t get out of the suit to use the bathroom). Their billionaire potential investor, Alton (Jemaine Clement, whose oily lecherousness may remind you of a recent government employee), has a neural chip in his temple that’s layered an invisible computer screen over his retinas. Blinking his eyes to take photographs, this repellent tech bro appears so ridiculous that you half-wonder if his innovation is fake, — the emperor’s new code. But when AMELIA (Ivanna Sakhno) uses his eyeballs against him, we enjoy Alton realizing how pitiful he looks.

The plot here is the same one we’re going to keep repeating until today’s technofeudalist geeks quit inventing things that the majority of people don’t want. (So, probably forever.) AMELIA wants access to the computer cloud that controls every facet of our existence, from the power grid to the financial markets. There’s a cool, if truncated, car chase in which AMELIA treats humans like roadblocks, flinging us into traffic by freezing scooters and releasing cash from sidewalk ATMs.

On a more intimate scale, Gemma and Cady’s new Bay Area rental is a smart house where everything is a potential poltergeist, from the ice dispenser to the vacuum. They thought M3GAN was dead; turns out, she’s the ghost in their machines. The movie isn’t scary in the slightest. But afterward, it’s terrifying to count how many things you own that aren’t truly under your control — and, scarier, how hard it’s getting to stop this home invasion. Does anyone really need their refrigerator authorized to order more eggs?

“M3GAN 2.0” is at heart a B-movie about a technological arms race fought by femmebots with literal swinging arms. It’s dopey by design. At least Johnstone punches up the premise. There’s not just one secret lair — there are three! — and each has its own playful reveal. Later, he finagles a physical comedy beat in which Gemma is delighted to realize she’s more like M3GAN than she thinks. I was never that moved by M3GAN’s girl-power-y argument that she has a soul (“I’m nobody’s plaything,” she growls.) And the scene in which she and Gemma bond starts off like a groaner but gets us howling when the doll goes too far and begins to sing another cringey pop song, a great gag recycled from the last movie.

Most of the other obvious yuks are flashy and hollow: Of course M3GAN will dance. Of course M3GAN will zip into a flying squirrel suit and go soaring over the trees. Of course a souped-up smart sports car will blare the theme music from “Knight Rider.” That gets a reflexive chuckle, but it mostly reminds us that today’s so-called genius inventors just wish their childhood toys were real.

But what intrigues me about Johnstone are the jokes that barely involve M3GAN at all. The most surprising laugh in the first movie came when a detective giggled as he described a little boy’s murder. Killer dolls, we get. Yet, this was the stock cop character seen in every genre flick acting fundamentally against his programming. Here, that humor has gone viral — it’s now in every scene — insisting that humanity itself is fundamentally strange and unpredictable.

The robot is the draw, but I’d watch “M3GAN 2.0” for the people. And stay for the end credits disclaimer: “This work may not be used to train AI.” Good luck with that.

CRISTIANO RONALDO’S attitude towards fans can’t be knocked – even when they accidentally knock him!

The Manchester United legend won new admirers for the way he dealt with a supporter catching him on the shin with his wheelchair.

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Viewers loved the amusing exchange as Ronaldo ended up with a smile almost as big as his bank balance.

It began an eventful night for Ronaldo, who was outside Portugal’s team hotel at the time of the ‘collision’.

The Al-Nassr striker was later grabbed by a pitch invader as he warmed up at Bayern Munich’s Allianz Arena to face Germany in the Nations League semi-final.

And he then drilled Portugal’s clincher in a 2-1 comeback win – thanks to his 137th international goal midway through the second half.

Understandably the 40-year-old looked ecstatic.

But he was in high spirits too during his earlier hotel encounter.

Wearing shorts and training gear, Ronaldo walked over to sign an autograph.

And as he was preparing to scribble his name, the fan’s wheelchair nudged  forward and hit the five-time Ballon d’Or winner on the right leg.

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Ronaldo rubbed his shin as he smiled and shared a joke with the fan.

It’s just possible the ex-Real Madrid winger was mischievously pretending to have been fouled – as contact looked minimal.

And he then finished scribbling his signature before posing for a selfie with the man.

One fan responded to the clip on social media by saying: “Massive respect to CR7 who made the supporters day.”

Another viewer wrote: “Ronaldo down to earth.”

“I have to respect him for this,” posted a third.

Many fans still relentlessly argue online over Ronaldo’s GOAT claims compared to those of  Lionel Messi.

But Ron’s ‘bumpy’ exchange even earned grudging backing from supporters of his great rival!

One said: “As someone who prefers Messi’s play style this is why you gotta respect Ronaldo, class human being.”