KFC fell off bad over there seems like..
UK
- Thread starter TEN
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British-born R&B singer Jane Eugene, best known as the voice behind the ’80s hit-making group Loose Ends, is reportedly in the custody of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) after overstaying her visa by nearly two decades.
Sources close to the situation reveal that Eugene is currently being held at an ICE detention facility in upstate New York near the Canadian border. The singer, who has lived and worked in the United States for years, is now facing possible deportation and serious immigration consequences, including a potential 10-year ban on reentry.
Eugene rose to fame in the mid-1980s as a key member of Loose Ends, the British R&B group known for chart-topping tracks like “Hanging on a String (Contemplating)” and “Slow Down.” In recent years, she has led a U.S.-based version of the band, performing live shows and remaining active in the American music circuit.
Her reported immigration status has come as a shock to fans and industry peers, many of whom were unaware of her visa troubles. Legal experts note that a visa overstay of this length—19 years—typically triggers removal proceedings and could have long-term implications on her ability to return to the United States, even if she voluntarily departs.
At this time, no official statement has been released from Eugene or her representatives. It is unclear whether she has legal counsel or plans to contest the deportation proceedings.
Tim Westwood charged by the Metropolitan Police Service
The Crown Prosecution Service has authorised the Metropolitan Police Service to charge a man following an investigation by detectives.Tim Westwood, 68 (03/10/1957), of Westminster, has been charged with the following offences –
- Four counts of rape
- Nine counts of indecent assault
- Two counts of sexual assault
Desmonds - UK Sitcom [1989-1994]
The story behind Britain’s sitcom barbershop began on the top deck of a number 36 bus. In 1988, St Lucia–born writer Trix Worrell was riding from Peckham into central London, still processing the news that he’d won Channel 4’s debut writing competition. He was on his way to pitch a brand-new Black sitcom — despite never having written comedy before and having no idea what he was going to propose.
As the bus stopped at the lights on Queens Road, his attention caught a West Indian barbershop called Fair Deal. Barbers leaned against the window chatting to women going past; customers sat half-shaved and half-lathered, completely unfazed as the haircut paused for conversation. It was noisy, funny, chaotic, utterly social — and, to Worrell, instantly recognisable. In that moment, the idea arrived fully formed.
West Indian barbershops were places where stories were swapped, dominoes slapped on counters, and jokes flew across the room. They were community hubs where people lingered long after their haircut, and where, as Worrell later said, “Black people could just be Black.” When he arrived at producer Humphrey Barclay’s office, he asked one simple question that changed everything: “Have you ever been in a West Indian barber shop?” Barclay soon realised this wasn’t another salon sitcom — it was a world British TV had never shown.
When Desmond’s launched in January 1989, it stood apart. British television had never before centred a sitcom on a Black-owned business or shown the everyday life of a Caribbean-British family with such warmth and authenticity. Norman Beaton and Carmen Munroe led a cast of vibrant characters — Porkpie, Matthew, Gloria, Sean, Michael — each bringing humour, heart and humanity to Peckham’s busiest barbershop. By the second series, five million people were tuning in, drawn to a show that was both universal and deeply rooted in its community.
For Worrell, it was never just comedy. It was a counterpoint to the narrow, negative stereotypes dominating the headlines in the late 80s and early 90s. “I didn’t write Desmond’s for Black people,” he later said. “I wrote it for white people so they could see how Black people really are.” The sitcom became a portrait of ambition, family life, migration, regret and resilience — all delivered with the warmth and humour of a close-knit community.
Desmond’s ended in 1994 after 71 episodes, but its legacy remains enormous. It appeared in Danny Boyle’s 2012 Olympics opening ceremony, it’s still watched on All 4, and it continues to be celebrated in Peckham, where the story first began. More than three decades later, it remains a milestone in British television — a sitcom born on a bus, set in a barbershop, and written with a purpose that still rings true today.
The story behind Britain’s sitcom barbershop began on the top deck of a number 36 bus. In 1988, St Lucia–born writer Trix Worrell was riding from Peckham into central London, still processing the news that he’d won Channel 4’s debut writing competition. He was on his way to pitch a brand-new Black sitcom — despite never having written comedy before and having no idea what he was going to propose.
As the bus stopped at the lights on Queens Road, his attention caught a West Indian barbershop called Fair Deal. Barbers leaned against the window chatting to women going past; customers sat half-shaved and half-lathered, completely unfazed as the haircut paused for conversation. It was noisy, funny, chaotic, utterly social — and, to Worrell, instantly recognisable. In that moment, the idea arrived fully formed.
West Indian barbershops were places where stories were swapped, dominoes slapped on counters, and jokes flew across the room. They were community hubs where people lingered long after their haircut, and where, as Worrell later said, “Black people could just be Black.” When he arrived at producer Humphrey Barclay’s office, he asked one simple question that changed everything: “Have you ever been in a West Indian barber shop?” Barclay soon realised this wasn’t another salon sitcom — it was a world British TV had never shown.
When Desmond’s launched in January 1989, it stood apart. British television had never before centred a sitcom on a Black-owned business or shown the everyday life of a Caribbean-British family with such warmth and authenticity. Norman Beaton and Carmen Munroe led a cast of vibrant characters — Porkpie, Matthew, Gloria, Sean, Michael — each bringing humour, heart and humanity to Peckham’s busiest barbershop. By the second series, five million people were tuning in, drawn to a show that was both universal and deeply rooted in its community.
For Worrell, it was never just comedy. It was a counterpoint to the narrow, negative stereotypes dominating the headlines in the late 80s and early 90s. “I didn’t write Desmond’s for Black people,” he later said. “I wrote it for white people so they could see how Black people really are.” The sitcom became a portrait of ambition, family life, migration, regret and resilience — all delivered with the warmth and humour of a close-knit community.
Desmond’s ended in 1994 after 71 episodes, but its legacy remains enormous. It appeared in Danny Boyle’s 2012 Olympics opening ceremony, it’s still watched on All 4, and it continues to be celebrated in Peckham, where the story first began. More than three decades later, it remains a milestone in British television — a sitcom born on a bus, set in a barbershop, and written with a purpose that still rings true today.
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