My American accent inspired pity, empathy and utter confusion. I feel the same: it’s as though we’ve entered hospice care

Traveling abroad for the first time since November, I saw pity in the eyes of strangers when they heard my American accent. Pity, empathy, and utter confusion, as if to convey “What the hell is happening to your country?” with a mere glance or a quiet sigh.

Believe me, I’m American and I’m just as confused as you are.

Shanti L Nelson is a writer and photographer

More government borrowing, more abandoned pets, more sourdough baking. Our panel looks at the ramifications of the pandemic, for better and for worse, on education, health, arts and life in the UK

There is an omertà, or code of silence, around 2020 – a blind spot. Most people don’t want to dwell on the pandemic, the trauma, the boredom, the anxiety and the uncertainty about when it would end, or if it would end, whether the rules would change or why the rules hadn’t already changed, and work out who was a covidiot or a superspreader or a doom monger.

But like a forgotten mask in an old coat pocket, the effects of the Covid pandemic are still with us. The lockdowns and the fear of being near other people, the restrictions on freedom and the despair of isolation – and the virus that killed more than 200,000 people – have all had profound impacts on Britain, on life at work and at home, and in the NHS, in schools and theatres, and on the rest of the economy.

The gadfly-minded abuser has openly threatened Greenland, Ukraine and Europe. He, and America, are the enemy now

I’d say writing comedy about the ever-shifting opinions of Donald Trump, the Speedy Gonzales of on-the-hoof policymaking, is like playing pin the tail on the donkey, but it’s unfair on donkeys. No donkey ever sexually assaulted someone in a department store changing cubicle.

It’s 4.30pm on Wednesday and I’m done. Last week I filed this column on Thursday, and then on Friday DJ Trump and JD Vance beat up Volodymyr Zelenskyy live on TV in the Oval Office to try to grab his minerals, as brazenly as Trump might grab a pussy, like a performatively cruel Tweedledum and Tweedledee in Sopranos suits.

Stewart Lee tours Stewart Lee vs the Man-Wulf this year, with a Royal Festival Hall run in July

The DJ and podcaster on taking over the 6 Music breakfast slot, coping with grief, and what he learned working as an intern at MTV

Born in Oldham in 1984, Nick Grimshaw has just taken over as 6 Music’s new breakfast DJ . After stints in PR and TV, his radio career began in 2007 on Radio 1 youth strand Switch; in 2012, he became the station’s breakfast presenter, doing it for six years. He’s also been an X Factor judge, a Gogglebox regular (with his niece, Liv), has written a memoir, Soft Lad, and co-hosts Waitrose’s Dish podcast, with Angela Hartnett, and BBC Sounds podcast Sidetracked, with Annie Mac. Engaged to his dancer partner Meshach Henry, he lives in London and will broadcast live from the 6 Music festival in Greater Manchester, later this month.

Congratulations on the new job. How is breakfast DJing different on 6 Music?
Radio 1 is about being at the zeitgeist of what’s going on in popular culture, so when there’s a change of presenter there, it feels seismic – there’s new imaging, new jingles, a new attack. The remit on 6 is more about the music, giving you classics you love to hear, and new songs we hope you fall in love with, to actually make you want to get up and survive a Tuesday morning.

Ukrainian president calls for strengthened sanctions as he highlights weapons used against his country

Local officials from Russia’s ruling party have caused controversy by presenting mothers of soldiers killed in Ukraine with gifts of meat grinders, an appliance widely used to describe Russia’s brutal tactics on the frontline.

The United Russia party in the northern Murmansk region posted photos on social media showing officials smiling as they visited bereaved mothers with gifts of flowers and boxed meat grinders for International Women’s Day on Saturday, which is widely celebrated in Russia.

When it comes to appreciating art, genius really is in the eye of the beholder

Not for the first time, I’m examining a picture my daughter has drawn. It’s an expressive piece, formed from purple marker, but presented in a larger format than her usual efforts. The effect is multiplying; there is a feral freeness in her strokes, a sense of passion at play, of creativity unbridled.

We are at my sister Maeve’s house, where she and her brother have been happily ensconced in a drawing session with their cousins all afternoon. Paper and markers and crayons are scattered in every direction, and each child’s own style is on display. For my son, the endless Minecraft characters and dinosaurs he can now reproduce with frightening speed and accuracy; for his older cousins Nora and Ardal, a menagerie of beautifully rendered characters from their favourite books and games. My daughter, however, has eschewed such figurative works, preferring to rely on pure expression.