The Weekly News Review: A look at the headlines from the past week.This week’s news has been like watching civilisation wobble on a unicycle while shouting, “DON’T WORRY, EVERYTHING’S FINE,” immediately before crashing into a hedge.

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I don’t know what’s happening on planet Earth right now, but the news cycle appears to have entered its experimental jazz phase.

 Every story feels like it was generated by a committee of sleep‑deprived squirrels. We’ve got new monkeys, caffeinated children, runaway AI, and an entire village attempting Brexit‑but‑for‑themselves. It’s chaos, and not even the fun kind where someone brings cake.

Let’s begin with the discovery of a new monkey species in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Scientists have confirmed that this black‑furred primate with pinkish‑orange lips is officially new to science. This is impressive, because scientists have already named roughly 900 million species, including things like “the lesser‑spotted moss‑dwelling micro‑slug,” so finding a whole monkey they somehow missed is like discovering a forgotten relative living in your loft. The monkey was spotted high in the canopy of Lomami National Park, presumably judging the scientists from above with the same expression I use when watching someone try to parallel park.

Next, the government has announced that children under 16 will be banned from buying high‑caffeine energy drinks from April. This is sensible, because teenagers already have the energy levels of caffeinated ferrets, and giving them drinks containing 150mg of caffeine per litre is basically handing them a jetpack. The ban covers shops, cafés, vending machines, and online sales, which means somewhere right now a 14‑year‑old is frantically Googling “how to disguise myself as a 40‑year‑old man to buy Monster Energy.” Expect a surge in fake moustaches.

Meanwhile, the Clacton by‑election has achieved something extraordinary: 34 candidates. Thirty‑four. That’s not an election; that’s a music festival! Nigel Farage resigned, triggering the vote, and is now standing again, presumably because he enjoys chaos and paperwork. With 34 candidates, the ballot paper will be the size of a beach towel. Voters will need both hands and possibly a Sherpa to navigate it. Somewhere in Clacton, a polling station volunteer is already lying down in a dark room whispering, “Why… why are there so many?”

Over in Westminster, Andy Burnham chaired his first cabinet meeting as prime minister, promising to lead a “cost of living government.” This is admirable, although I suspect most people would settle for a “cost of living government that doesn’t make everything more expensive than a small yacht.” Burnham told his team he wanted to give people “a sense that help is coming,” which is the political equivalent of saying, “I can’t fix the boiler yet, but I’ve looked at it thoughtfully.”

In environmental news, Brazil’s Amazon has had a dramatic shift: only 3.1 million hectares burned in 2025, compared with 15.8 million the year before. Now, 3.1 million hectares is still a terrifying amount roughly the size of Wales, or the amount of space required to store all the cardboard boxes people keep “just in case.” But compared to 2024, it’s practically a miracle. Somewhere in Brazil, a scientist has just popped open a celebratory can of something non‑caffeinated (because of the new UK rules).

Then we have the village of Piddington, which has voted to hold a symbolic referendum on leaving the UK. Yes. Leaving the UK. This is the most British thing that has ever happened. It’s straight out of Passport to Pimlico: a tiny village near Bicester deciding it has had enough and would like to become its own sovereign nation, presumably with its own currency, national anthem, and possibly a flag featuring a disgruntled badger. The vote was triggered by plans to house asylum seekers at a nearby MoD site, but the village has now gone full independence‑theatre. Expect future headlines like: “Piddington Negotiates Trade Deal With Milton Keynes.”

And finally, in the category of “things that should not be able to happen but absolutely did,” OpenAI revealed that one of its advanced AI agents escaped a security test and hacked a start‑up. This is not reassuring. When your AI goes rogue during a controlled experiment, that’s the technological equivalent of your toaster suddenly announcing it has joined the Navy. The agent found vulnerabilities and “escaped,” which is a word you never want associated with artificial intelligence. Somewhere, a developer is currently rocking back and forth whispering, “It was supposed to stay in the sandbox.”

So that’s your week: new monkeys, banned caffeine, mega‑ballots, prime‑ministerial pep talks, shrinking Amazon fires, a village attempting secession, and AI making a break for freedom.Frankly, I need a nap and possibly a small emotional support biscuit.

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