script

This week Tucker Carlson apologized for unintentionally “misleading” voters into supporting President Trump’s return to the White House. The apology came days after the president called Carlson dumb and overrated on social media. We’ve seen this plot before: It’s a different name but the same story.

Recall the president’s first term was closely shadowed by high-profile breakups from loyalists who disagreed with him on matters of substance. For example, the split with his first Defense secretary, James Mattis, began in 2017 when Mattis, a man who spent more than four decades in uniform, defended the importance of NATO. His successor, Mark Esper, found himself at odds with the president for refusing to use the military on citizens. On his way out the door, Esper told the country that if his replacement was “a real ‘yes man’ … then God help us.”

Some of the highlights from Trump’s second term include squabbles with his biggest donor, Elon Musk, who was upset the president wasn’t lowering the national debt enough; with former congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene because millions of Americans faced losing health insurance; and with Rep. Thomas Massie for having the audacity to seek justice for the victims of Jeffrey Epstein’s child sex-trafficking operation.

Now it appears it’s Carlson’s turn. He, like Pope Leo XIV and many of our allies and nearly 70% of Americans, disapproves of the president’s handling of the war in Iran. On a recent episode of the Carlson podcast, the former Fox News host invited his brother Buckley, himself a former Trump speechwriter, on the show to discuss their buyer’s remorse.

Everyone has that line they won’t cross for the president.

Omarosa Manigault Newman left reality TV to advise Trump. She followed him to the White House, found out there was a lot of racism over in MAGA land, and ended up back on reality TV. For Mattis, it was abandoning our allies. For Esper, it was shooting protesters.

For Carlson, it’s Iran. Candidate Trump campaigned on ending endless wars. This week, Trump said there’s no timeline for when the war he started with Iran will end.

“I do think it’s like a moment to wrestle with our own consciences,” Carlson told his brother. “We’ll be tormented by it for a long time. I will be. And I want to say I’m sorry for misleading people.”

Now before Tucker’s apology, Buckley defended his initial support of Trump’s candidacy in 2015 — despite “all of his obvious foibles and his disgusting elements of his personality” — in part because “he built things.” Buckley also said that after the election of President Obama, white Americans in Washington were subjugated by a version of Jim Crow in education and society, and that progressives “would look blank or angry” whenever he asked what Obama was doing to strengthen the nation.

In other words, being red in the face over Trump did not turn the Tucker boys blue. In fact, the episode ended with the two calling the left a bunch of “lunatics,” even after listing the ways the Trump administration was holding back release of the Epstein files and hurting the country.

“Demonic influences concentrate on those who have power. Beware of power,” Tucker warned listeners halfway through the show before his brother chimed in: “And those who seek power.”

Of course, Trump’s ascension to the White House wasn’t solely based on the contributions of media folks. The president entered 2015 having been a public figure for more than 30 years. He’s had the luxury of criticizing elected officials and legislation on camera without the burden of governing for much of that time. When he entered the political arena, he didn’t have a record to defend. He likes being quotable, not being held accountable. That’s why it’s doubtful he would have been elected a second time if not for the support from unscrupulous podcasters masquerading as political journalists such as Joe Rogan, Theo Von and Andrew Schulz, who less than a year ago said everything Trump “campaigned on, I believed he wanted to do. And now he’s doing the exact opposite thing.… I voted for none of this.”

As if “this” had not been clearly spelled out in the pages of Project 2025 for all to see before deciding whether to vote for Trump and that agenda.

Schulz, the comedian and podcaster, might not have read that outline, but Tucker Carlson probably did. That’s why his apology to listeners — like the mea culpas from the discarded loyalists of the past — ultimately won’t mean anything to mainstream Republicans or MAGA. Those who identify with the latter listen only to Trump. As for the former — they have always known that people like Carlson don’t regret supporting Trump. They regret falling out of favor.

YouTube: @LZGrandersonShow

The actor portrays John Worboys – dubbed the “black cab rapist” – in the upcoming series

Daniel Mays has admitted he was “absolutely terrified” when he read the script of his new ITV drama Believe Me.

The actor plays convicted offender John Worboys – who was dubbed the ‘black cab rapist’ after preying on women under the cover of being a licensed taxi-cab driver.

He was convicted in 2009 for crimes including sexual assault and drugging with intent against 12 women.

“I actually underestimated how much it was going to affect me,” Daniel said as a first look image of him as Worboys was released.

“I’ve been a professional actor for 26 years, so I’ve done a lot of true crime and played a lot of wrong ‘uns. When I got these scripts, it absolutely terrified me, because I’m a father myself.

“My head immediately went to my 13-year-old daughter Dixie. She’s venturing out, going on trains, and before long, no doubt she’ll be in the back of a taxi. So as a father, I found it an incredibly disturbing and terrifying read.”

He continued: “It was a difficult thing to have rolling around in my head before filming.

“It was a very isolating character to play, by its very nature. When I was announced to play him, I got this tirade from family and friends and work colleagues who can’t quite believe it, going, ‘Why would you want to play something like that?’ So, the challenge was to humanise him, really, and that was a very difficult and unsettling thing to take on.”

The four-part series, filmed in Cardiff, focuses on the ordeal of Sarah (played by Peaky Blinders’ Aimée-Ffion Edwards) and Laila (played by Raised By Wolves’ Aasiya Shah), who reported sexual assaults by Worboys, and how their allegations were not thoroughly investigated.

ITV said it “tells the story of how the victims of one of the most prolific sex attackers in British history were failed by the system”.

Danny, known for Des and A Thousand Blows, said there’s “always a huge responsibility” playing a real person on screen, but that this was “a whole other level”.

He explained: “This is told from the perspective of the victims, and for them to tell their truth, have their stories told – the ordeals that they went through and the fight they took on against the Metropolitan Police and the court systems.

“So, when you’re dealing with that, the onus was on me to get it absolutely 110% right. That was paramount to me.”

Believe Me is coming soon to ITV1

If you or somebody you know has been affected by this story, contact Victim Support for free, confidential advice on 08 08 16 89 111 or visit their website, http://www.victimsupport.org.uk.

Anxieties due to war. A culture inhospitable to LGBTQ+ communities. And an underpinning of loneliness and suppressed yearning.

The play “5 Lesbians Eating a Quiche” is set in 1956, but its themes resonate in 2026. The United States is at war. Attacks on gay marriage and other LGBTQ+ rights remain a cornerstone of today’s conservative movement. A reimagining of the 2011 production, one popular with universities and fringe festivals, seeks to further modernize the show in which a morning gathering quickly turns into a stay in a Cold War-era bomb shelter after near nuclear annihilation.

When I arrived at the back room of a Glendale church, I was given a new name. It was clear that “Todd” was not welcome here. “Joan” turned out to be a suitable replacement, and I was immediately asked how my life had been since my husband had died. For on this night I would no longer be occupying the role of a straight white male. Every audience member is asked to take on the persona of a widow, for losing a husband appeared to be a perquisite to enter this meeting of the Susan B. Anthony Society for the Sisters of Gertude Stein.

How did he die, I was asked. “Ski accident,” I blurted out. “Yours?” A camping travesty that led to a bear mauling, I was told. Ad-libbing, in addition to quiche, was on the menu tonight. Metaphors, absurdities and seriousness intermingle in this production from New Forms LA and directed by Marissa Pattullo.

Pattullo’s vision for “5 Lesbians Eating a Quiche” ramps up the interactivity, seeking to transform a largely traditional proscenium show, albeit one with a few moments of fourth-wall breaking, into one that is centered around audience participation. Staged in a flex space without a tinge of irony at the Glendale Church of the Brethren, “5 Lesbians,” written by Evan Linder and Andrew Hobgood, has been reconstructed as a largely immersive production, that is one that asks audiences to lean in and interact.

Jessica Damouni’s Ginny Cadbury devouring breakfast in “5 Lesbians Eating a Quiche,” a show that unfolds as a giant metaphor.

(New Forms LA)

While there is a small stage, it is used sparingly. The five-person cast roams the room, sitting at various circular tables to blur the lines between script and improvisation. Typically a svelte 75-minute show, on the night I saw the production it swelled to about two hours, allowing time for drinks, mingling and, of course, the eating of a quiche. Pattullo has added an intermission, with quiches courtesy of Kitchen Mouse and Just What I Kneaded included in the ticket.

For quiche, I was told often, was the primary topic of conversation at the Easter-timed meeting, so much so that it was clear within moments that this was a gathering not of breakfast enthusiasts but of the repressed. The hidden meaning is no secret; it’s in the title of the play.

“It’s a giant metaphor,” Pattullo, 30, says. The show, she adds, “keeps finding ways to make sense with the times, whether it’s Trump being elected, or we’re at war. Or gay marriage. All of those things. A bomb going off and being trapped inside. It speaks to whoever is watching it.”

Pattullo, who splits time building New Forms LA and serving tables at Los Feliz’s Little Dom’s, first discovered the show while in college in the Midwest. It immediately resonated, and Pattullo has been tinkering with ways to perform it live ever since. During the worst of the COVID-19 pandemic, she staged an online version of the show, and debuted it as an immersive production last winter. It’s back for two weekends this month.

“5 Lesbians” makes a relatively smooth transition to the immersive format. Perhaps that’s because the audience, in the script, is cast as attendees of the Susan B. Anthony Society for the Sisters of Gertude Stein’s brunch meeting, whose motto is “no men, no meat, all manners.” For about the first 30 minutes of the show we largely interact with the actors. Dale Prist (Nicole Ohara) has hidden ambitions. Vern Schultz (Chandler Cummings) seems ready for the group to cut its charade. Lulie Stanwyck (Noelle Urbano) is fighting so hard to stay prim and proper that she feels on the verge of bursting.

“I really like to play,” Pattullo says, referencing how “5 Lesbians” lends itself to improvisation. “Some of the girls I think are very ‘stick to the script.’ I’m like, ‘Stray from the script.’ If people come in late, call them out. If people are talking, call them out. You can adjust and improvise in immersive theater. Having a script but being able to break from it, is really fun for me. It tickles me.”

Wren Robin (Emily Yetter), Vern Schultz (Chandler Cummings) and Lulie Stanwyck (Noelle Urbano) protect breakfast in “5 Lesbians Eating a Quiche.”

(New Forms LA)

There’s an underlying tension in the show because it walks a line between silliness and graveness. Ultimately, “5 Lesbians” is about finding joy in dark times, and moments inspire uncomfortable laughter, such as jokes about gay marriage being legal in four years’ time (1960) or Ginny Cadbury (Jessica Damouni) devouring a quiche in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. But it’s also a show about how stressful moments can bring about vulnerability and community, as the whole church practically exhaled when Wren Robbin (Emily Yetter) finally let her hair down and expressed who she truly was.

“Even when we did it back when I was in college, Trump had just won, so it just feels like it’s keeping relevant,” Pattullo says. The timeliness, she says, makes it such an amusing play to perform.

Pattullo will sometimes, depending on cast availability, take on a role in the show. It’s a chance, she says, to amplify the play’s wackiness, which she believes helps puts audiences at ease and makes its difficult subject matter easier to digest. She tries to create the most outlandish tale possible for when relaying to guests one on one how her husband perished.

“My story was a raccoon attack,” she says. “Because my husband thought the raccoon was behaving with foreign intent, like the raccoon was a spy or something. It was just stupid.”

Or it was evidence of how immersive theater can delight when it deviates from the script.