Ed Balls and Yvette Cooper cross the Rubicon – in a canoe: the Stephen Collins cartoon
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Daily Mail
18 minutes ago
- Daily Mail
Chaser Paul Sinha makes brutal jibe about fans of the ITV game show - calling out 'unemployed' watchers
Chaser Paul Sinha has taken a brutal swipe at viewers of the hugely popular ITV game show - calling keen fans 'unemployed'. His quick wit and fiery authenticity has made Paul, aka The Sinnerman, a fan favourite on The Chase. Colleague and fellow Chaser Anne Hegerty, known by the moniker The Governess, has previously described him as the most 'fearsome' Chaser. But when he's not playing fiercely on the show, he's performing stand up comedy around the country. Arriving at the Ealing Comedy Festival on Thursday, the 55-year-old kicked off his set with a playful jab at watchers of The Chase, the Express reported. 'Welcome to you, and a special welcome to those of you in full-time employment, as you won't have a clue who I am,' he said - in a cheeky nod to the show's airing time of 5pm on weekdays. But Paul did not shy away from laughing at himself, as he poked fun at his player name The Sinnerman, saying: 'It's a s*** name. It means f*** all. It makes me sound like a low-budget superhero!' The ITV quizzer, who first qualified as a doctor before turning to comedy, even poked fun at his family names. 'My mum's name is Smith,' he said. 'It's an unusual maiden name for someone with full Bengali heritage, but there is an explanation - which is I'm lying. I made it up.' Paul later admitted his mother's maiden name was actually Chakrabarti, which he joked has '17 variant spellings in the English language.' He added that he'd been 'locked out of so many online accounts' after selecting it as a security question. 'Many years ago, I made the pragmatic decision that my mum's name is actually Smith - it's not easy though, I tell you,' he continued. Paul joked that he'd made a successful career owing to his knack for 'box-ticking', as he falls into a number of 'diverse' categories. 'I'm a gay man and, I'll be honest, it's not a bad life - you're the only openly gay British Asian qualified doctor with Parkinson's Disease,' he laughed. The Chaser said that, after a long period of singledom between the ages of 18 and 41, he had finally found love. But, in a cruel twist of fate, he received his Parkinson's diagnosis the very same year he became a married man. 'When you see as many doctors as I do, your life is a rollercoaster, your career is a rollercoaster... tonight I'm in Ealing [but] two weeks ago I had a damage limitation gig with the production team at Masterchef! It's all happening for me!' This appeared to the audience to be a gesture to TV chef John Torode's recent dismissal from his BBC post following accusations he had used derogatory racialised language. Despite his buoyant tone, it has been a difficult few years for Paul, who acknowledges that his disease could eventually leave him 'expressionless' and 'immobile'. Nonetheless he insisted he was facing the future with 'good cheer and optimism', as proved by the riotous comedy set that drove his audience to (happy) tears. The London-based doctor has previously opened up about his declining health, having admitted he suffered two heart attacks in the same week but refused to call an ambulance for a 'stupid' reason. Paul told of his ordeal on an episode of Good Morning Britain to presenters Susanna Reid, 54, and Ed Balls, 58. He said the ordeal happened while he was at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2023 to perform a run of shows. He explained of his set at the Scottish arts festival: 'It was a bit of a wild show. 'It was very much about my life as a gay, disabled son of immigrants but it was quite a political show, and it was a big show. 'I was in a room with 400 people in and it all got on top of me and I had two heart attacks in the same Edinburgh Fringe. 'Two! Week number one and week number three.' Paul explained the first heart attack happened while he was 'shaking the hand of Levi Roots', who he had been introduced to in a bar. As he greeted the businessman, known for pitching Reggae Reggae Sauce on Dragons' Den, he felt 'a crushing, tightening chest pain'. Having previously worked as a GP before entering showbusiness, the quizzer explained: 'As my years of medicine made me remember, it was not like anything I'd ever felt before and I knew it was cardiac. 'But I didn't want to cause a scene so I just walked into a cab. 'I didn't want to call an ambulance because I thought, "I might as well just get into a cab to take me to the nearest hospital as quickly as possible", which is what I did.'
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The Independent
20 minutes ago
- The Independent
Sarina Wiegman: I have fallen in love with England after ‘craziest' tournament yet
Shortly before Sarina Wiegman walks into one of the grand rooms at England 's five-star Dolder base overlooking Zurich, Ella Toone can't help but laugh. 'We've nearly killed her twice in this tournament,' Toone says. It sometimes feels like at least twice in single games, especially those against Sweden and Italy. 'You've definitely aged me,' Wiegman told the players after the semi-final. You wouldn't think it as she walks in for a more informal chat with media on the eve of the Euro 2025 final. Wiegman is all smiles and laughs, as you might well be when your team repeatedly get through emotional late rescue acts. Everyone conspicuously looks to the coach in such moments. That isn't always the case in football. Wiegman admits that she finds focus on her 'awkward', if of course 'very special'. Except, it's hard not to focus on her. This is the 55-year-old's third consecutive major final in the England job, and fifth as a manager, going back to Euro 2017. It sums Wiegman up that she says it's a record she doesn't even want to think about until she retires. For everyone else, it defines her. While there have been a number of factors in England's rise, not least FA investment, the money they have spent on Wiegman is well justified. She is almost certainly the single most important figure in the history of the women's team. Hence the FA being 'in awe' of Wiegman, according to many insiders, to the point chief executive Mark Bullingham says she's priceless. If England loves Wiegman, however, what does Wiegman think of England? As a manager, she can come across as an abrupt figure, especially when talking in that matter-of-fact manner. Some close to her just say it's part of being Dutch. Nevertheless, Wiegman's success comes as her own players talk about how she's changed; maybe even softened. She is relaxed enough to elaborate on her relationship with England outside the job, something she hasn't really done before. 'I have been here four years and it just feels like my home away from home. I always enjoy it when I'm at work, when I'm in England. It is just the people, the sporting culture. I really love the sporting culture and the fans of course. It is the connection I have with the people, we are very, very close. The people at the FA, with everyone.' Wiegman is eventually asked whether she's 'fallen in love' with England? 'Yes, I have,' she says. 'Otherwise, I would not be sitting here with such a smile on my face.' Wiegman has certainly harnessed some of England's distinctive sporting traits, most visibly in the resilience of this team. 'Proper England', as her players keep saying. 'I absolutely see that,' she says. 'People that really want to work hard and are very committed.' That quality has been honed for this England team through Wiegman's nurturing of a proper old-fashioned team spirit. It has meant that, no matter how the team plays - and, in this tournament, that hasn't been very well - they always have a chance. Hence her resistance to speak about herself, except in the most couched way. 'I think I'm pretty good at bringing people together. But, without the quality, you're not going to win a tournament. So you need very good players and the support staff. The environment we created, the performance, how we do recovery… but they're important things to be the best prepared. 'What I'm trying to do is bring people together in the best possible way. Players and staff and the people around are really, really good.' As is always the case with such figures, you can't truly separate the real personality from the sporting personality, much as they try to. 'I'm kind of a caring person,' Wiegman says. 'I care about them… but at the same time I'm the coach.' The England players say she now lets out more emotion when they score. 'That comes from these performances,' she laughs. 'It's so intense. Of course I look very calm, but when the whistle goes and we score a goal and we change the game, when you have one minute left, of course that is emotional. Now, yes, like every person, I develop too with experiences. 'What I really wanted to do over all these years was try to enjoy it a little bit more, instead of always being so…' Wiegman interrupts herself. 'You have to be focused in this job, but you need to celebrate the moments that are good. It's really nice.' Some of the squad go even further and describe her as 'a mum'. 'Yeah, you know, sometimes when people say about 'the girls', I think 'do they mean my daughters or my team?!'I care about them but at the same time I'm making these hard decisions at the moment. So sometimes you should leave that caring and leave it up to them. They're grown-up women! But at least a mum should care.' Being in the job for four years has naturally seen her become closer to players, though. 'Those informal moments are just nice, to have a conversation in so you get to know each other better on and off the pitch. I say this a lot, but I truly believe connections make a difference. That's why I like team sports so much. That's what I like about the tournaments because you have more time together, so you have more time to have these informal moments.' Wiegman even admits that she misses the players away from camps. 'When we go into international breaks it's 11 days… you don't have much time. And then I'm not a person who just goes out and has a conversation where there's no purpose.' Much of this comes from the amount of consideration she put into actually taking the job in 2021. 'I think from both sides, before 2021, we have been really diligent to figure out if we were a good match. And you never know until you go in.' They now know so well that she's signed a contract to take her at least to the 2027 World Cup. There was 'a click', as Wiegman puts it. No matter how long she goes in the job, though, she's unlikely to face a tournament as tumultuous as Euro 2025. From the retirements beforehand to the being on the brink throughout, she admits there's been nothing like it. 'Before the World Cup, we had challenges with players who were injured. But in this tournament, it has been the craziest one with how the games went. That has been different.' The words don't quite reflect the mock exasperation on her face. Wiegman does admit that she now recovers from matches better. 'I've worked on that, too, because I always say don't put too much emphasis on the result. Of course, we are here to win, but you can't control winning. You can control what you do and what you try to do to win the games. And I do better at that.' As another tournament proves, however, she's not bad at winning either.
The Guardian
20 minutes ago
- The Guardian
Proper England? Maybe, but the Lionesses legacy can be something completely new
You can understand why the Lionesses needed a new catchphrase. Four years ago, when they won the Euros at Wembley, they effectively retired: 'It's coming home.' So this tournament it's all been about 'proper England', a mantra so versatile you can use it for just about anything that's taken place during their Euro 2025 campaign. Georgia Stanway drills one in from the edge of the penalty area? Proper England. Hannah Hampton makes a save with a bloodied wad up her nose? Proper England. Leah Williamson launches a Blue Peter badge? That's proper England, that is. It's a relatable phrase because it seems to embody English football (including its fandom) so smartly, combining solid street slang with a sophisticated hint of irony. And the great thing is, no matter the result on Sunday, it will function perfectly for the denouement. Stealing a European Championship win from a better team at the last feasible moment is absolutely proper England. But then so is burgling your way to a major tournament final and being outplayed by Spain. Hopefully the phrase will outlive the tournament – who knows, if England win it might even become one of those words of the year like 'goblin mode' and 'brain rot'. But the dictionary compilers might insist on a precise definition, which is currently hard to come by. My mate Becki told me she Googled 'what does proper England mean?' last week and the video of Lucy Bronze explaining it left her more baffled than when she started. Even the team itself isn't agreed on the meaning. When Millie Bright first brought the phrase into public use in 2023, she was using it to describe England's defending, a way of making the Lionesses harder to beat. For Bronze it's a flashback to the days when England were underdogs, having 'to dig out performances' against stronger opposition. Sarina Wiegman defines it as playing with purpose and moving the ball upfield. More philosophical squad members equate it with togetherness ('We'll work hard until we can't run any more and stick together' – Alessia Russo) built on Brené Brown principles ('We've made ourselves very vulnerable' – Beth Mead). Or it might just be taking your lumps à la Hannah Hampton and leaving the field battered, bruised but united. Proper England certainly seems easier to feel in your gut than interrogate in your brain. The term encompasses so much in so few syllables, thanks to the way it maps a footballing team identity on to an underlying national one. By evoking a self-image bristling with 'd' words – doughty, dogged, determined – it appeals to a narrative deeply embedded in the English consciousness. This is a country that has sold itself the story of its tenacious fighting spirit for centuries, from Agincourt to Trafalgar, Balaclava to the Blitz. There's no doubt that has influenced and informed the way English fans regard, and talk about, their teams' sporting campaigns. Meanwhile the national footballing identity long followed the same logic employed by monarchs and politicians past, defining the English way not by what it was as much as what it was not. It was not, heaven forfend, French or Spanish – nor was it German, Italian or South American. That cussed assertion frequently provided cover for any lack of flair and imagination, or a failure to adapt to more modern styles. No England team need to adhere to self-perpetuating stereotypes, and women's sport ought, surely, to be less defined by them. If the distinctive English football style, as David Goldblatt has described it, is 'rough, honest, manly', then female footballers denied a place within the wider development structure by the Football Association have the right to snub it entirely. The England women's team deserve the space and licence to play with an entirely different mentality and style. They, after all, have the winning brand. Sign up to Moving the Goalposts No topic is too small or too big for us to cover as we deliver a twice-weekly roundup of the wonderful world of women's football after newsletter promotion The men's side have been working for the past decade to shed some of the less helpful (and more nebulous) concepts of 'the English way'. Michael Owen was one of several former players consulted by Gareth Southgate as the then manager built up his blueprints of an 'England DNA' for the entire FA pathway. Previous men's sides had been shaped by the public's outdated and sentimental expectation of their 'bulldog' character, said Owen. 'They wanted to see the players chasing everything, being physical, playing at 100mph and showing passion. But that wasn't the way successful international teams played.' Given the globalism of sport, the multiculturalism of the British isles, and the dual nationalities of many international athletes, the idea of what constitutes our national sporting identity is, in fact, entirely up for debate. Southgate, a big fan of the All Blacks' methods, used a Kiwi consultant, Owen Eastwood, to help him reset the footballing culture. Terry Butcher's bloodied bandage gave way to more relatable, contemporary visions of what playing for England might mean and look like. Another All Blacks adviser – the mental skills coach Gilbert Enoka – has recently joined the England men's cricket team, another manifestation of its New Zealand-led philosophy. It would be hard to argue that there was anything remotely 'proper England' about Ben Stokes's side in the Bazball era, which jettisoned the Keep Calm and Carry On mantra for a high-risk, all-flair style of play. Their mould-breaking methods have brought about some of the most dramatic victories and historic rearguards in their team's history. On a podcast last week, Hampton reflected on her side's nerve-shredding route to the final. 'I think it's just the proper English way of doing things,' she said. 'We like to keep all the fans on their toes.' But miraculous, last-minute turnarounds are a rarity in the England sporting canon. The Lionesses' trademark unbeatability is transforming the English football legacy into something completely new. If that's proper England, it's proper exciting.
