Tess Finch-Lees

Now is not the time to hide in a bunker. If something's worth fighting for, be it the NHS, libraries, equality, or multi-culturalism, get out and fight for it. It'll take more than armchair activism to salvage any hope from this wreckage.
Having opted out of social media because of death threats, I've encountered the dark misogyny that seeks to silence opinionated women. So I despaired when I saw this very real malaise being hijacked by prominent Labour MPs, including Heidi Alexander and Angela Eagle, to score points against a man they want to oust. Women in politics face many threats, Jeremy Corbyn isn't one of them.
Still living with the devastating consequences of the doomed Iraq invasion, this country has been thrust into yet another cataclysmic, life altering upheaval. With the same hallmarks of group-think and remorseless psychopathy, I wonder how much more chaos and reckless abandon, this weary world can take.
The Blairite coup against Jeremy Corbyn has sorely misjudged the public mood. The economy is in free fall and the rampant racism unleashed by the Leave campaign makes the "No blacks, dogs and Irish" signs of the 60's seem welcoming. Vigilante bigots now roam our streets attacking "foreigners", issuing unofficial deportation orders demanding, "We want our country back".
The historic child sex abuse inquiry, led by Justice Goddard, announced yesterday that it was fast tracking claims that child
It's not for me to say what an appropriate Mothers Day gift would be, but, as a general rule, I would avoid the following: flammable nighties, toxic talcs and anything from the Kotex product range.
If we accept the narrative that NHS cuts are necessary, it follows that we concede privatisation is inevitable. If we relinquish the principal of public health care for all, we're signing our NHS over to corporate providers. That, in the words of one of the doctors interviewed in the incisive film,"Sell-Off: The Abolition of the NHS, "is like putting Dracula in charge of the blood bank".
Hooded and shackled he was unceremoniously plucked from his home in Belfast and taken to a police station in Surrey. It was 1974 and the end of Gerry Conlon's life, as he knew it. He was 20 years old...
After half an hour waiting in my second cue of the day I was catatonic. The people behind were chatty at first but grew markedly frosty when little Sylvian exclaimed (finger pointing for dramatic effect) she's the one that booed bankers in the Tata tent!
There are haunting resonances between the Ireland of the past and present. A profusion of People begging in the streets, half built houses abandoned and boarded up. Rural towns, once vibrant are now jaded and deserted.