Sam Fishwick
Executive Entertainment and Features Editor at YOU Magazine
Executive entertainment and features editor @YOUMagSocial
Articles
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1 month ago |
standard.co.uk | Sam Fishwick
Did you know the King doesn’t eat lunch? 11. He was an eager-to-please kid. Once, at lunch with the Mountbattens, a relative explained that he shouldn’t take the stalks out of his strawberries because he could pick them up by the stems and dip them in the sugar. His cousin Pamela Hicks noticed later that ‘the poor child was trying to put all the stems back on’.
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Jun 28, 2023 |
independent.co.uk | Sam Fishwick
Then they came for the first day of the second Ashes test, where Jonny Bairstow, England’s big-hitting wicket keeper, heaved a Just Stop Oil protester from the Lord’s outfield like a stoic carrying a stepladder back to the potting shed, the protestor’s orange flare waggling around feebly as if he was attending the gender reveal party of a satsuma.
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Jun 22, 2023 |
independent.co.uk | Sam Fishwick
Flak jackets and uniforms on, the two agents of Suella Breverman’s “deport first, appeal later” agenda were given some puzzled looks by wellie-clad festival goers. No wonder. This is the world’s most liberal music festival, now with added Home Office agents sprinkled around the fringes. At least people love Jay Z. What an utterly shameful look. Glastonbury is not for everyone – it’s incredibly expensive and always too hot, too wet or both – but it does pride itself on welcoming, worthy principles.
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Jun 18, 2023 |
msn.com | Sam Fishwick
Name a 21st-century frontman more iconic than Alex Turner? We’ll wait. It’s 19 years — a whole teenage lifetime — since the world first tuned into the Arctic Monkeys and dropped its collective jaw. The Libertines were imploding, the pound was 1.78 to the dollar, Tony Blair’s New Labour had nine years on the clock and, as the band’s debut album, Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not, hit the HMV shelves.
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Jun 18, 2023 |
independent.co.uk | Sam Fishwick
More than anything else, the sight of the flowers being laid in Nottingham’s Old Market Square struck me with the electric force of a livewire. Student after student came forward, gripping their bouquets tightly before placing them on the baking-hot concrete of the sunlit square. Their young faces broke with emotion as a powerful, kinetic sense of grief burst from the sad scene.
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