The Weekly News Review. 24th October.

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This week in Britain: the monarchy sheds titles like dandruff, coffee becomes a Class A pollutant, and the nation collectively wonders if we’ve all gone absolutely barmy! 

I'm Jim Corbridge this is your weekly news review!

It’s been a week so British it could’ve been written by Alan Bennett on a wet Tuesday in Cleethorpes. First up, Prince Andrew, formerly known as the Duke of York, has finally relinquished his title presumably after realising that “Duke of York” now ranks somewhere between “used teabag” and “Jeffrey Epstein’s plus one” in public esteem. The Palace, in its usual display of digital agility, took a leisurely stroll through the concept of “updating the website,” leaving Andrew’s bio lingering like a bad smell in the royal sidebar.

Of course, he’s still technically the Duke of York, because Parliament hasn’t stripped the title officially. Which means we’ve entered a Schrödinger’s Peerage situation: he is and isn’t the Duke, depending on whether you’re reading the Daily Mail or consulting the Titles Deprivation Act of 1917. Meanwhile, Sarah Ferguson has also dropped her Duchess of York moniker, presumably to avoid being mistaken for a character in a Channel 5 documentary called My Ex-Husband Was a Royal Disaster.

Now, to the real scandal of the week: Burcu Yesilyurt, a commuter from Kew, was fined £150 for the heinous crime of pouring the dregs of her coffee down a drain. That’s right. Not fly-tipping, not dumping a mattress in the canal—just a splash of coffee, dispatched in a moment of bus-related urgency. Three enforcement officers descended like caffeinated vultures, issuing a fine under Section 33 of the Environmental Protection Act, which apparently now covers espresso based terrorism!

Ms Yesilyurt, clearly not versed in the dark arts of drain etiquette, was left “shaky” and “intimidated,” which is understandable given she was treated like she’d just poured plutonium into the Thames. The council, after a brief flirtation with madness, reversed the fine and promised not to do it again presumably after realising that chasing commuters over coffee puddles might not be the best use of taxpayer money.

Elsewhere, the nation continues its slow descent into surrealism. The weather remains committed to its usual October strategy: grey skies, intermittent drizzle, and the occasional burst of sunshine that lasts just long enough to make you regret wearing a coat. The trains are running on a schedule best described as “aspirational,” and the government is still trying to convince us that everything’s fine, despite the fact that the economy is wobbling like a jelly on a trampoline.

Internationally, things are going swimmingly if you’re a fossil or a bomb. In Bengal, a World War II-era bomb was defused, which is great news for anyone who thought their commute wasn’t already stressful enough. Meanwhile, in Montana, scientists discovered a rare dinosaur fossil, proving once again that America’s best ideas are buried under several layers of sediment and denial.

And in Gaza, the International Court of Justice has ordered Israel to restore access to UN-led aid agencies, accusing it of using starvation as a weapon of war. The ICJ also dismissed claims that UNRWA staff were secretly moonlighting as Hamas members, which is a bit like accusing your postman of being a Bond villain because he wears a badge



So there you have it: a week in Britain, where titles are dropped, drains are policed, and coffee is the new contraband. Tune in next week, when we’ll likely be discussing whether tea bags should be licensed and if the King's courteers are secretly running MI5.

I'm Jim Corbridge. Goodnight.



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