The Erinsborough asteroid attack! Now that Neighbours is doomed, it needs to end with a bang
It's always sad to write an obituary, especially so when it's for the second time. Neighbours, the Australian soap opera that made stars of everyone from Kylie Minogue to a man who will forever be known as Toadfish, is five months away from death. Again.
Yesterday, the show announced that Amazon, the company that resuscitated Neighbours two years ago after its dramatic 2022 finale, would be bringing production to an end. In July, filming will cease. In December, the final episode will be shown. True, there is the possibility that another buyer will leap in and save it, but that is looking more and more unlikely. After all, as the saying goes, you can't make a zombie out of a zombie.
Obviously, there's a lot to examine from the news. Perhaps the most important lesson is that legacy franchises should really think better of jumping into bed with big tech companies. Amazon proved this twice over yesterday alone; first by buying out Eon Productions, the British company that makes the James Bond films, hinting that it will transform a venerable 63-year-old property into a nightmarish Star Wars-style sausage factory of spin-offs and TV shows, and now this. When Amazon bought Neighbours, fans hoped it was a permanent solution, continuing the soap in perpetuity. But streamers operate on a different metric to traditional broadcasters – a long-running show with a loyal audience won't increase the number of subscribers as much as something buzzy and new – and so it has once again been snuffed out of existence.
But hope springs eternal. Inevitably, someone has created a petition to save it. But even that barely has the energy to sustain itself, scraping together just over a thousand signatures in a day. Perhaps the time is right to let it go. After all, the entire history of the show has been spent teetering on the brink of cancellation.
In Australia, the Seven Network cancelled it after four months before it was revived by Network Ten. It ran for 22 years on BBC One in the UK, until the channel abandoned it in 2008 after Freemantle demanded £300 million for the rights. It was saved when Channel 5 agreed to show it, paying for the bulk of production costs in the process. But even that started to go south over financial disputes in 2017, before Channel 5 officially pulled the plug in 2022, tanking the show for the first time.
You will remember that because the finale was a big deal. Several big stars who had outgrown Neighbours returned to mark the event, including Margot Robbie, Guy Pearce, Jason Donovan and a bizarrely mute Kylie Minogue. In truth it was a pretty good finale, ending with a wedding that served as a celebration of the history of Ramsay Street. If you're old enough to have enjoyed Neighbours at its peak, it was a near-perfect send off. And then it was all undone the moment that Amazon bought the rights.
The new series has been, well, fine. It's Neighbours, so it's still equal parts plodding and implausible, but after using up all that energy saying goodbye to it once, it was hard to fully embrace its new incarnation. What was once a communal experience – play Suddenly by Angry Anderson, the soundtrack to Scott and Charlene's wedding in 1987, to a roomful of people in their mid-40s and they'll all end up snivelling with nostalgia – had become impossibly fragmented. At times it felt like you were the only person in the world watching Neighbours.
Now there's nowhere else to go. It seems like Neighbours has run out of road for good. Hopefully, this time it will do the dignified thing and stay dead. If nothing else, a new ending means that it will soon be time for a new finale. This is something to be excited about, at least. After all, the show has blown the chance of another celebrity-filled nostalgiafest because Kylie Minogue clearly isn't going to risk her reputation by showing up to say goodbye again. So that only leaves the route of harrowing finality.
This is Neighbours' chance to go big or go home. Nothing short of total destruction will do. We're talking plane crashes, volcanoes, axe murderers. By the time the end credits roll, I want the few remaining viewers permanently traumatised. We cannot risk the possibility of another embarrassing about-face here. If someone wants to make a petition to destroy Erinsborough with an asteroid attack, I promise to sign it first.
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New Statesman
an hour ago
- New Statesman
Bruce Springsteen faces the end of America
Photo montage by Gaetan Mariage / Alamy When I met Patti Smith soon after Donald Trump's first victory, she said she'd ended up next to him at various New York dinners over the years, back in the Seventies, when he was pitching Trump Towers. 'We were born in the same year, and I have to look at this person and think: all our hopes and dreams from childhood, going through the Sixties, everything we went through – and that's what came out of our generation. Him.' Smith's sing-song voice was in my head at Anfield Stadium in Liverpool on one of the final nights of Bruce Springsteen's Land of Hope and Dreams tour. Springsteen was born three years after Trump and will also have sat at many New York dinners with him. Those with half an eye on the news would be forgiven for thinking that Bruce has been lobbing disses at the president from the stage between his hits, but his latest show is heavier than that: a conscious recasting of two decades of his more politicised music, with a four-minute incitement to revolution in the middle. Here is a bit of what he says: 'The America I love and have sung to you about for so long, a beacon of hope for 250 years, is currently in the hands of a corrupt, incompetent and treasonous administration. Tonight we ask all of you who believe in democracy and the best of our American experiment to rise with us, raise your voices, stand with us against authoritarianism and let freedom ring. In America right now we have to organise at home, at work, peacefully in the street. We thank the British people for their support…' Clearly few in the US are speaking out like this on stage, and Trump has responded by calling Springsteen a 'dried-out prune of a rocker (his skin is all atrophied!)' and threatening some kind of mysterious action upon his return. Springsteen, the heartland rocker, was never exactly part of the counter-culture, though he did avoid Vietnam by doing the 'basic Sixties rag', as he put it, and acting crazy in his army induction. Yet he has become a true protest singer in his final act. He wears tweed and a tie these days, partly because he's 75 and partly, you suspect, to convey a moral seriousness. When I last saw him, two years ago, I thought I saw some of Joe Biden's easy energy. Well, Bruce still has his faculties. The feeling is: listen to the old man, he has something to say. Springsteen's late years have been something to behold. At some point in the last decade he stopped dyeing his hair and started to talk in a stylised, reedy, story-book voice. The image of the America he seemed to represent shifted back from Seventies Pittsburgh to Thirties California: the bare-armed steelworker became the Marlboro Man, and in 2019 there was a Cowboy album, Western Skies, with an accompanying film in which he was seen on horseback. His autobiography Born to Run revealed recent battles with depression. And it is depression you see tonight in Liverpool – in the wince, the twisted mouth, the accusing index finger; in his entreaty to Liverpool's fans to 'indulge' his sermon against the American administration, delivered night after night, to scatterings of applause. It is a depression I recognise in older American friends who fear they're going to the grave with everything they knew and loved about their country disappearing. But depression is also the stuff of life, of energy. Springsteen has been particularly angry since the early Noughties, since the second Bush administration, but this is his moment somehow, and his song of greedy bankers – 'Death to My Hometown' – is spat out with new meaning in 2025, an ominous abstraction. The father-to-son speech in 'Long Walk Home' feels different in this politically charged world: 'Your flag flying over the courthouse means certain things are set in stone/Who we are, what we'll do and what we won't'). A furious version of 'Rainmaker' ('Sometimes folks need to believe in something so bad, so bad, they'll hire a rainmaker') is dedicated to 'our dear leader'. As much as I admire Springsteen and seem to have followed him around and written about him for years, the Land of Hope and Dreams tour made me realise I hadn't fully known what he was for. When I saw him in Hyde Park in 2023, the first 200 yards of the crowd were given over to media wankers like me, with the paying fans at the back: every single person I had ever met in London was there, mildly pissed up and whirling about with looks of mutual congratulation. Springsteen had become, to the middle classes and above, a global symbol of right-thinking, summed up by his long stint on Broadway at $800 a ticket. His dull podcast with Barack Obama was the American version of The Rest Is Politics with Rory Stewart and Alastair Campbell: men saying stuff you want them to say, to confirm what you already think about stuff (Obama was in awe of Bruce). Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month Subscribe Politics was easy for Springsteen when politics consisted of external events happening to innocent people, rather than something taking place on the level of psychology, in a movement of masses towards a demagogue. The job he adopted, back in the Seventies, was to set a particular kind of American life in its political and historical context: to tell people who they were, and why they mattered. His appeal as a rock star always lay less in his words than in how sincerely he embodied them: his extraordinary outward energy, his mirroring of his audience, his apparent concern with others over himself. After 9/11, someone apparently rolled down a window and told him, 'We need you now,' so he wrote his song 'The Rising' from the viewpoint of a doomed New York fireman ascending the tower. A recent BBC documentary revealed he'd donated £20,000 to the Northumberland and Durham Miners Support Group during the strikes of 1984 – rather as he donated ten grand to unemployed steelworkers in Pittsburgh the previous year. His self-made success and songs about freedom were the Republican dream, but when Reagan tapped him up for endorsements it was a right of passage for Springsteen as a Democrat rocker to rebuff them (I'm pretty sure they tried to play 'Born in the USA' at Trump rallies too). He is quoted as saying that the working-class American was facing a spiritual crisis, years ago: 'It's like he has nothing left to tie him into society any more. He's isolated from the government. Isolated from his job. Isolated from his family… to the point where nothing makes sense.' Now, Trump has taken Springsteen's people (the Republicans were doing so long before Trump), and the interior life of the working man that Springsteen made it his job to portray has been exploited by someone else. 'For 50 years, I've been an ambassador for this country and let me tell you that the America I was singing about is real,' he says, possessively, on stage. Springsteen, like Jon Bon Jovi, sees his fans as workers. The distances travelled, the money spent, the babysitters paid for: that's what the three-hour gigs are all about. It is part of the psyche of a certain generation of working-class American musician to consider themselves in a contract with the people who buy their records. It is not a particularly British thing – though time and again I am impressed by the commitment required to see these big shows, especially when so many punters are of an age where they would not longer, say, sleep in a tent: £250 a night for a hotel, no taxis to the stadium, a huge Ticketmaster crash that leaves hundreds of fans outside the venue fiddling with their QR codes while Bruce can be heard inside singing the opening lines of 'My Love Will Not Let You Down'. Yet the relationship between a rock star and his fan is not a co-dependency: the fan is having a night out, but the rock star needs the fan to survive. It is hard to underestimate the psychological shift Springsteen might be undergoing, in seeing the working men and women of America moving to a politics that is repellent to him. He has not played on American soil since Trump's re-election and it is likely that this kind of political commentary there will turn the 'Bruuuuuce' into the boo. A Springsteen tribute act in his native New Jersey was recently cancelled (the band offered to play other songs, and the venue said no). Last week, a young American band told me they won't speak out about the administration on stage because they're not all white and they're afraid of getting deported. It is the job of the powerful to do the protesting, and, like Pope Leo, Springsteen's previous good works will mean nothing if he doesn't call out the big nude emperor now. The Maga crowd will still come to see him, of course, and yell the 'woah' in 'Born to Run' just as loud as everyone else does – perhaps because music is bigger than politics, or perhaps because politics is now bigger than Bruce. Though his political speeches in Liverpool (it's UK 'heartland' only this tour: no London gigs) feel slightly out of step with a city that has its own problems, it seems fair enough for Springsteen to be telling the truth about America to a crowd who's enjoyed their romantic visions of the country via his music for 50 years. But their own personal communion is suspended tonight, and the song 'My City of Ruins' has nothing to do with 9/11 any more: 'Come on… rise up…' In the crowd, a very old man is sitting on someone's shoulders. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band play Anfield stadium, Liverpool, on 7 June 2025 [See also: Wes Anderson's sense of an ending] Related
Daily Mirror
an hour ago
- Daily Mirror
‘I tried Olivia Attwood's go-to deodorant—it was a lifesaver in the heatwave'
Shopping Writer Meghan has put Olivia Attwood's favourite sustainable deodorant to the test during the heatwave to see if it really keeps you smelling fresh on hot days Refillable deodorants have become increasingly popular in recent years, thanks to their sustainability, with brands like Wild pioneering the trend. But Wild is not the only brand offering shoppers the chance to pick their preferred deodorant case and scents while benefiting the planet—and Olivia Attwood's a fan. Olivia Attwood recently told fans that she's been loving sustainable brand Fussy and its refillable deodorant sticks —so I thought I'd put it to the test. I recently spent a weekend in Bath, which involved travelling by train and walking around the city during 25-degree heat, so I wanted to try a deodorant that promised to keep me smelling fresh without the need for a top-up while I'm on the go. And by the end of the weekend, I was very impressed. Much like the cult-favourite brand Wild, Fussy offers a reusable plastic casing and refills of your preferred scented deodorant. Olivia shared her recommendations to fans, sharing her favourite fragrance is Jasmine Bloom, a calming aroma combining floral jasmine and fresh green tea. Shoppers can try this refillable deodorant without breaking the bank, as it already has an affordable price tag. The refillable case and four refills of your chosen scent cost £32 directly from Fussy, or you can pick up a three-pack of the scent Peppermint, Eucalyptus & Sage on Amazon for £26. If you want to test out the deodorant without bulk buying, you can grab the case and one refill from Boots for £12. Of the three aromas I chose, the Coconut Milk scent carried me through my warm-weather weekend. This deodorant promises 24-hour protection and boasts all-natural ingredients for those who love a floral and fresh fragrance. It is also vegan and cruelty-free. I applied the deodorant at 8 a.m. before boarding my first train, after a four-and-a-half-hour journey with multiple changes. I spent the day walking all around Bath in high temperatures and very sunny weather, and then went for a fancy dinner without much of a chance to freshen up. By the time I made it home that night, after midnight, my friends were quick to note that I still smelled incredibly. Join our Shopping & Deals WhatsApp for the best bargains and fashion news WHATSAPP: Get the best deals and exclusive discount codes straight to your phone via our WhatsApp group. Users must download or already have WhatsApp on their phones to join in. All you have to do to join is click on this link, select 'Join Chat' and you're in! We may also send you stories from other titles across the Reach group. We will also treat our community members to special offers, promotions, and adverts from us and our partners. Some of these articles will contain affiliate links where we will receive a commission on any sales we generate from them. If you don't like our community, you can check out any time you like. To leave our community click on the name at the top of your screen and choose Exit group. If you're curious, you can read our Privacy Notice. The notes of the fragrance were still noticeable, and there was no trace of that sweaty smell that lingers after a long day. It was even pointed out that the aroma was still present the following morning. Without the chance to top up at any point throughout the day, the hot weather conditions, and a lot of walking and carrying heavy bags, I got through the day without losing the sweet and fresh scent Fussy offered. Needless to say, I'm impressed. This deodorant has claimed pride of place in my go-to products this summer - it promised twenty-four-hour protection and scent that won't get damp no matter what you're doing, and it lived up to that declaration. I can easily see why Olivia Attwood raves about the brand so much. And it's not just me and Liv, shoppers love this brand, as over 25000 reviews pour in. One 5-star rater beams: "I was very sceptical as I had tried a similar product. Thought I would give it a try. I am now a convert. There are no white marks on my clothes, and it works for me. Great product, and my daughter also now uses it." Another shares: "I'd seen lots of influencers recommending Fussy, and when I mentioned it to my son, he told me he'd already started using Fussy and was impressed! He gave me his discount code, and a few days later, I received mine. I chose the coconut fragrance based on his recommendation, and it's very nice! So far, I've been pleased, so I hope this continues when the warmer, sweaty weather eventually comes! For my next order, I've chosen a couple of different scents to try, so I hope they're as appealing as the coconut! Give them a go if you're yet to try! Oh, and yes, they're better for the environment and for your body, no harsh chemicals and recyclable." More love comes in this comment: "I started using Fussy around two months ago, and it's the best ever! It smells incredible, and there is no smell at all, unlike when I tried every other deodorant with all the chemicals, and trust me when I say I have tried every single one out there. I love Jasmine Bloom and Parma Violet; I'll never go back to anything else!"
Glasgow Times
an hour ago
- Glasgow Times
Pub Quiz June 7: How smart are you? Take this pub quiz
Perfect if you're taking a trip to the pub this weekend, this quiz will let you brush up on some of that unusual but essential knowledge for the occasion. With 10 fun questions, the pub quiz will get your brain cogs working and put your general knowledge skills to the test. Take last week's quiz now: Pub Quiz May 31: How smart are you? Take this pub quiz From what is the rarest blood type to what is Scotland's national animal, see how many questions you can guess correctly. So, if you think you have what it takes to be the pub quiz master, find out now and take our quiz. If you liked that quiz, you can see how British you are with the UK's citizenship test. You can even test your Barbie knowledge with our Barbie quiz and find out if you're a Barbie or just Ken. Now that you've put your brain to the test, you'll want to start revising hard in preparation for the next pub quiz. Did you get 10/10, or was it a tough round for you? Keep an eye on the news and get ready for next week's pub quiz. How well did you do? Let us know in the comments below. What is the history of the pub quiz? The pub quiz is believed to have originated from a company called Burns and Porter, which would share their quizzes in the 1970s in order to encourage more regular visitors. The regular pub quizzes saw pub numbers rise from 30 teams a week to a peak of 10,000 teams. Burns and Porter went on to publish their own line of pub quiz books and would continue to host weekly quizzes.
