Nigel Farage has said he “wasn’t even listening” at a meeting he attended with an undercover journalist claiming to be an American donating money to Reform UK.

The party leader has insisted no laws have been broken after a Channel 4 News report showed senior Reform figures discussing how to disguise donations from foreign sources.

Accepting donations from a foreign company, including donations in kind such as polling, could constitute a criminal offence, and the party has been reported to the police.

Two of Farage’s closest aides, Dan Jukes and James Orr, have been suspended by the party pending an internal investigation into the row.

Secretly-recorded footage showed Farage and Jukes having lunch during the recent Clacton by-election with the journalist claiming to be the wealthy American, and another man pretending to be his UK-based son.

The “American” is heard discussing how he paid for polling via his son, and Farage is heard thanking them both.

The Reform leader said the polling was “amazing” and provided “bang for buck”, adding: “It worked. Boom.”

When the discussion turned to a larger donation to Reform, one of the undercover journalists explained that the money would be paid by the US-based father to his son in the UK, who would then pass it on to the party.

Such an arrangement would be illegal under electoral law.

Farage is heard saying “it’s all above board” before later adding: “Thank you. Both of you, thank you.”

But speaking to the BBC on the final day of Reform’s conference in Birmingham, Farage insisted he had not been paying attention to what was being discussed at the lunch.

He said: “I am not a compliance officer. I was in the middle of canvassing in the Clacton by-election. I turn up. I frankly wasn’t even listening.

“ I just asked, “Is it all above board?” I was just there to come and say hello.”

Farage added: “I was told there was a global family office based in London, so the money could have come from Singapore. The money could come from all over the world, you know. Income could have came from all over the world into a family office based in London.

“I know electoral law. I know donation law better than anybody. Frankly [Jukes and Orr] have never been involved in fundraising before and they shouldn’t have been involved directly in fundraising. They should have done basic checks and nobody, nobody should be brought to me, unless they’ve been vetted.”

The row over the Channel 4 report has overshadowed Reform’s annual conference, which had been billed as setting out the party’s plans for its first 100 days in office.

Listen to Commons People, the podcast that makes politics easy. Every week, Kevin Schofield and Kate Nicholson unpack the week’s biggest stories to keep you informed. Join us for straightforward analysis of what’s going on at Westminster.

According to the International Association for Premenstrual Disorders UK (IAPMD UK), around a million people in the UK suffer with Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD). PMDD is a more intense version of premenstrual syndrome, characterised by symptoms such as depression, extreme irritability or anger, joint and muscle aches and sharp mood swings, just to name a few.

While we still have a long way to go with awareness, according to Google Trends data, the condition has grown in Google searches since 2024 and this year, the IAMPD was launched, marking it the first charity dedicated to PMDD research in the UK.

According to the NHS, treatments for PMDD can include antidepressants, anti-inflammatory medicines, hormonal treatments such as the pill and talking therapies such as CBT. Anecdotally, increasing my Citalopram prescription by 10mg made a world of difference to my own symptoms.

Strangely, though, according to Dr Suzanne Wylie, GP and medical adviser for IQdoctor, people are increasingly suggesting that antihistamines may be the answer to tackling PMDD symptoms.

Dr Wylie says: “The growing interest in antihistamines for symptoms associated with PMDD reflects a much wider issue in women’s health, rather than a treatment approach currently supported by robust clinical evidence.

“Increasingly, women are sharing experiences online of using medications traditionally prescribed for allergies in the hope of relieving symptoms including anxiety, mood changes, flushing, headaches and fatigue. While some individuals report subjective improvements, there is currently insufficient high-quality evidence to recommend antihistamines.”

However, while there isn’t enough evidence to recommend them, there is some logic as to why people have turned to them and potentially found relief.

Dr Wylie says: “There are plausible biological theories that may help explain why this approach has attracted attention. Sex hormones such as oestrogen and progesterone interact with the immune system and may influence histamine release and mast cell activity in some individuals.

“Histamine can affect blood vessels, the nervous system and inflammatory pathways, prompting researchers to investigate whether these mechanisms could contribute to some symptoms experienced during hormonal fluctuations. However, these are still areas of scientific investigation, and a plausible biological mechanism”

Dr Wylie advises speaking to your GP if you think you may have PMDD, saying: “Symptoms attributed to PMDD can sometimes have other causes. Persistent fatigue, headaches, changes in mood, sleep disturbance or palpitations, for example, may warrant assessment rather than being assumed to be hormonal.

“Seeking appropriate medical advice can help ensure that other conditions are considered and that patients are offered treatments with a stronger evidence base.”

With trends like “looksmaxxing” and the ongoing rise in GLP-1s, there’s no wonder appearance is a growing concern for many people these days. Companies, celebrities and even your loved ones may place more focus on how they look, whether it’s their weight, makeup or style.

Looking “nice” isn’t necessarily a bad thing – it’s fun, it can be smart (helping you stick to the dress code for a job interview) and can even make you feel happier (we love “dopamine dressing”).

But if you’re taking endless selfies (with filters) and obsessing over every angle of your face and body, at what point is your attention to your looks actually a sign of a mental health concern?

According to experts, there is some reason to worry or at least to be mindful.

“[Those trends] open the door for competition and obsession because there’s always another tweak to chase or something to optimise,” said Golee Abrishami, a psychologist who specialises in eating and body image issues and serves as the vice president of clinical care at Octave.

“None of these trends on their own can necessarily cause a disorder, but they create more openings for everyday insecurities to turn into something bigger.”

As mentioned, many current trends have us overly focused on our bodies in an insidious way. Social media and algorithms only exacerbate the problem.

“This leads us to believe that everyone is engaging in these behaviours, and if you aren’t, you will somehow be ‘less than,’” said Dr. Kaitlin Slaven, a psychiatrist with Eating Recovery Center. She points to studies that suggest the more we compare ourselves, the worse our body image becomes.

“Sadly, what these trends are doing is essentially hijacking our normal, human insecurities and weaponising them,” explained Dani Castro, a lead therapist and supervisor at Equip Health who specialises in eating disorders, OCD, body image, anxiety and depression. “The problem is that these trends suggest people’s bodies are projects to be optimised or shrunk.”

Add AI, and there’s no telling what’s actually real and realistic.

“When the standards we compare ourselves to are literally unattainable because they aren’t real, we set ourselves up for failure by striving for something that doesn’t exist,” she added.

Certain influencers aren’t helping, either. Abrishami discussed how they’re “normalising things that used to not be normal,” such as spending thousands of dollars on cosmetic procedures.

Some people turn to other technological advancements such as ChatGPT for style advice, which can also lead to further problems.

“Chatbots are designed to keep conversations going, so it can be really easy to get in prolonged conversations that help you obsess over your looks and insecurities,” Abrishami said.

This hyperfixation becomes culturally acceptable and “normal,” Castro continued, which creates an environment in which mental health concerns – such as body dysmorphia, generalised anxiety disorder and disordered eating – flourish.

Worrying about how big your nose or stomach is, for example, can be a sign of clinical body dysmorphia when it affects three things, according to Abrishami: functioning, freedom of thought and emotional health.

“If focusing on how you look starts pulling time and energy away from other parts of your life, like relationships, work, school or just being present, that’s something worth paying attention to,” she said.

“If your mood swings depend on how you look that day, whether or not you worked out or what the scale says, those are signs the relationship with your appearance has become something different than just self-care.”

Similarly, Castro said it becomes a problem “when it turns into an obsession that consumes your daily thoughts.” She listed signs such as spending hours in front of the mirror, fixating on a perceived flaw or canceling plans because you can’t cover it up.

“When focus on looks takes up so much time that it interferes with other important aspects of your life, it may be time to seek help,” Slaven agreed.

“Body dysmorphia is characterised by preoccupation with flaws that are not observable to others, engagement in checking behaviors (mirror-checking, reassurance-seeking from others or excessive grooming) and clinically excessive distress or impairment.”

The first step here may sound counterintuitive: avoid judging and shaming yourself.

“Shame will just feed that cycle,” Abrishami explained. “Name it in a neutral way, such as saying, ‘I think about this more than I want to.’”

Castro suggested aiming for body neutrality, or accepting your body rather than judging it. “You don’t have to love how you look every day, but you do need to stop treating your body like an object on display,” she said.

She encouraged setting a timer for mirror-checking, unfollowing toxic social media accounts, talking to a professional and spending time doing things you care about that don’t concern your body.

“Valuing experiences, hobbies or relationships and focusing more attention on those things than on the way the body looks is one of the most helpful ways to battle negative body image or body fixation,” she said.

Slaven added that finding a mental health professional or dietitian who specialises in disordered eating “can be really helpful.” She recommended reassessing your social media use as well (is this ever a bad idea?).

Your worries could be clinical anxiety if the behaviour – like putting on makeup before going to the gym – “stops being a choice and starts feeling like a shield,” according to Castro.

Abrishami agreed, saying, “Wanting to look good is different from believing certain things will be bad if you don’t.”

She encouraged looking out for “rules,” like “I have to do this routine, or the day is ruined.”

Don’t forget about the excessive preoccupation piece, either.

“Spending hours a day thinking about how you look, getting disproportionately upset if you don’t have time to do your full getting-ready routine … can signal an anxiety disorder may be present,” Slaven said.

“If these worries keep you up at night, make it hard for you to engage socially or cause physical symptoms, then you may be experiencing more than just ‘everyday worries.’”

Can’t step out of the door without a full beauty routine? Challenge that. You can start small.

“Go to the corner store or the gym with one less product on, sit with the initial spike of anxiety and let your brain recognise that nothing catastrophic is happening,” Castro encouraged. “Exposure to the things that make us feel anxious is typically one of the most effective ways to cope with and improve anxiety.”

If that feels unmanageable or makes you feel panicky, a therapist can help.

“This can feel too big or scary by yourself, so don’t muscle through it alone,” Abrishami advised. “In fact, muscling through it can worsen your anxiety.”

To be clear, worrying about how you look or trying to change your appearance doesn’t always mean you have a mental health condition. Comparison is something that most (if not all) of us deal with, and according to Slaven, it’s “a part of human nature.” Sometimes, we can move on and maintain self-worth in those moments.

Whether it’s a diagnosable mental health condition, Castro said, comes down to flexibility and distress.

“General insecurity is uncomfortable, but it’s flexible: For example, you might feel self-conscious about an outfit, but you still go to the party and enjoy yourself,” she explained.

“A diagnosable disorder takes away that choice; it hijacks your thoughts for hours a day, dictates your schedule and leaves you feeling trapped by your own rules.”

With that said, make no mistake: Your “symptoms” not meeting the specific criteria for a diagnosable disorder doesn’t mean they aren’t serious and deserving of help or that they couldn’t get worse.

Castro recommended practicing self-compassion, cultivating a healthy environment and not waiting until your problems worsen to see an evidence-based provider. She finds that the latter, especially, is “the best way to regain control over your life.”

Abrishami summed it up like this: “If all of your self-care routines are focused on what you look like on the outside instead of how you feel inside, then you need to make a change.”

When my husband Tom had a massive stroke and died, I expected to feel devastated. I expected to feel a rollercoaster of emotions – joy for the 12 years we had together, despair over never seeing him again, full-body laughter remembering how he took up knife sharpening as a hobby after his stroke, seemingly unending tears over my imperfections as a caregiver.

I expected some friends to drift away while others would surprise me with their unwavering presence, showing up with lasagnes and placing late-night phone calls when I needed them most. I was warned quickly about the maddening paperwork.

But nobody mentioned the fire I would feel in my loins less than two months later.

I remember exactly when it happened. I’d spent most of the day curled up on the couch with my phone, scrolling through photos of Tom and me together and bawling my eyes out. And then, with tears still running down my cheeks, I felt a pulsing, urgent need that seemed wildly inappropriate given the circumstances. And yet there it was: desire, burning through me with an intensity that left me breathless.

That feeling stayed with me for nearly a year. For a year, I was horny. All. The. Time.

It was as though my body had suddenly remembered it was alive while my heart was still learning how to beat on its own. The contrast was jarring. I’d spend hours sobbing while sorting through his things and then take a break to masturbate.

I didn’t want anyone in particular; I wanted anyone at all. I wanted the raw physical intimacy of sex, the primal sensation of skin on skin, and the feel of someone’s body heat melding with mine as we crawled inside each other.

My first reaction was shame – profound, all-consuming shame. How could my body do this to me? How could I feel sexual desire when the love of my life was gone? I felt like I was betraying him somehow, as if by acknowledging my own sexuality, I was erasing our love, our history. As if my body had forgotten what my heart couldn’t.

I didn’t have a framework for understanding what was happening. Intense horniness was not mentioned in any of the support group meetings I went to.

Luckily, my dog walker connected me with a widow around my age, who told me about the widow groups on Facebook. I joined several and learned that what I was experiencing had a name: widow’s fire. I also discovered it’s normal – completely, utterly normal – and it can affect people of any gender or sexual orientation.

Some people feel it within months, like I did. Others feel it a year later. Others never feel it.

What’s even more shocking than the fact that it’s totally normal for widows to be insanely horny is the silence around it. When I finally worked up the courage to mention it to my grief counsellor, her matter-of-fact response stunned me: “Oh yes, that’s quite common. Many widows experience that.”

Common? Many? Then how come the Facebook widows were the only ones talking about it?

There are biological reasons for this surge. Grief and sexual desire activate similar areas of the brain. Both involve intense emotion and physical sensation. Both represent a form of connection and release. There’s a biological imperative for connection when we’ve lost our primary attachment figure. The body seeks oxytocin, the pleasure chemical, to soothe the pain of loss.

There’s something almost primeval about it in the face of death, the body rebels by emphasising life. Sex is, after all, life-affirming in the most fundamental way.

Since experiencing this, I’ve learned that widow’s fire ignites indiscriminately across intimate histories – women who had passionate, frequent sex with their partners can find themselves feeling nothing, while those whose relationships had been physically dormant for years suddenly experience an overwhelming awakening of desire that seems to come from nowhere.

And it has nothing to do with age. I was 52 when I experienced widow’s fire, but I’ve spoken to widows who were in their 70s when they encountered it.

For some widows, this heightened desire manifests as a specific craving for physical touch not necessarily sexual, but the fundamental human need for skin contact that previously was satisfied daily through casual touches, hugs, or simply sharing a bed. For others, it’s more explicitly sexual – a physiological response to trauma, to stress, to the body’s need for the endorphin release that sexual activity provides.

When you’ve been part of a couple for years or decades, sexuality may have been expressed exclusively through that relationship. Suddenly, that avenue is gone, but the fundamental human need remains.

Two months after my husband’s death, I knew I had to do something to quell my craving, but I wasn’t ready to leave my house. Tom and I had always shared a sexually adventurous relationship, exploring various aspects of BDSM together throughout our marriage. I went to a kink website we had browsed and sometimes chatted with others about shared interests. Returning to it felt both comforting and strange, like revisiting a favourite restaurant but dining alone for the first time.

Eventually, I began exchanging messages with a man who lived three states away, someone who understood my need for both connection and distance. Our long-distance BDSM relationship became my first step into this new territory of grief and desire. The structured nature of it – the defined boundaries, the explicit communication, the psychological elements – provided a framework when everything else in my life felt structureless. The physical distance felt safe, allowing me to explore desire without the complication of actual physical intimacy before I was ready.

We talked on the phone and texted for several months. When I flew to meet him, I found him to be arrogant and unappealing in real life, and I ended things. However, my urge for touch continued, so I joined a dating app and began chatting with another man. Our weekend together still makes me smile, three days with someone who was absolutely, categorically wrong for me in every way except one: the chemistry was undeniable.

Our politics, temperaments, and what we wanted from life were diametrically opposed, but those 72 hours of passionate connection were profoundly healing. There was no pretense of a future, and no attempt to replace what I had lost. It was simply an affirmation that I was still capable of feeling, of desire, of pleasure – even in the midst of grief.

A few months later, when I felt open to something closer to an actual relationship, I knew my desperate lust might cloud my judgment about potential partners. A friend suggested I find a “friend with benefits” – someone I genuinely liked and respected, but with whom I shared no romantic future. This was unfamiliar territory for me, but again, the kink website delivered.

The arrangement was straightforward: companionship, physical connection, and no expectations beyond the present moment. It was exactly what I needed at that stage of my grief: a way to address my physical needs while giving myself the emotional space to navigate dating with greater clarity and presence.

I was selective about who I confided in during this period. My two closest friends knew everything, from my late-night loneliness to the details of my arrangements. They listened without judgment, occasionally checking in to ask if these encounters were helping or hurting my healing process. Two other friends, widows themselves, knew the broad strokes but not the specifics; I sensed they were uncomfortable with the idea of me seeking physical connection so soon after Tom’s death. Nobody else knew anything, but people regularly commented on my glow.

I didn’t have a roadmap for navigating this aspect of grief. Nobody had warned me, so I had to find my own way through research, through tentative conversations with other widows, through honest discussions with my therapist, and eventually, through my own experiences.

What I learned was that there’s no right way to handle widow’s fire. Some choose to channel that energy into physical activity or creative pursuits. Others explore self-pleasure as a way of reconnecting with their bodies. Some eventually pursue new relationships when they’re ready.

For all of us, though, it’s important to remember that grief isn’t linear. It can coexist with other feelings, even seemingly contradictory ones like desire. The heart is complex enough to hold both reverence for what’s lost and acknowledgment of continuing needs.

Grief and healing aren’t mutually exclusive. This was perhaps the most profound realisation in my journey that I could simultaneously miss my husband desperately and acknowledge my body’s continuing needs. But this understanding didn’t come easily.

For the first year after Tom died, I felt like I was cheating on him whenever I experienced desire, even though before his death, he had explicitly told me he wanted me to find love again and understood that would include physical intimacy. Despite his blessing, I felt ashamed, even slutty, for wanting to touch so soon, as if my physical longing dishonoured his memory.

The breakthrough came from an unexpected source. My friend with benefits, observing my internal conflict, simply said, “Of course, your body wants sex.” Those six words shifted something fundamental in my understanding. He wasn’t widowed, but somehow he grasped what I couldn’t yet see: my body’s needs weren’t in conflict with my grief, but existed alongside it, neither diminishing nor replacing my loss. My physical desires weren’t betraying my love for Tom; they were affirming that I was still alive, still human, still whole even while broken.

There’s something revolutionary about recognising that widowhood doesn’t require denying one’s sexuality, that honouring a lost love doesn’t mean living as if you too have died.

Each of my encounters taught me something different about the healing process. The long-distance relationship showed me I could be vulnerable again. My wild weekend reminded me that spontaneity and joy were still possible, and that passion was still available to me. The friend with benefits taught me that physical connection could exist without replacing the emotional bond I had with my husband.

Eventually, widow’s fire subsides, or at least becomes manageable. For me, it lasted about a year before settling into something less urgent and less all-consuming.

What remained was a recognition that I was still fully human with all the complex needs and desires that entail. I learned that healing includes reclaiming all parts of oneself, even those that seem at odds with grief. I discovered that there’s no contradiction in honouring what was lost while also honouring what remains: a body and spirit that continue to seek connection, pleasure, and life.

I write this now, years later, wishing someone had told me all of this then, wishing I hadn’t felt so alone, so confused, so ashamed of a perfectly natural response.

If you’re a new widow experiencing this, I want you to know you’re not alone. You’re not betraying your spouse. You’re not grieving “wrong.” Your body is responding to loss in one of the many complex ways humans respond to trauma and change.

And if you’re supporting someone through grief, understand that bereavement encompasses more than tears. It includes navigating identity, physicality, and yes, sexuality, in a new context.

Healing doesn’t mean forgetting or replacing. It means integrating the loss into a life that continues, a life that still contains joy, desire and connection.

Elizabeth Kleinfeld is a writer, professor, and end-of-life doula living in Denver, Colorado. She is writing a memoir about being her husband’s caregiver for the year before he died. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, and she was named a best emerging writer by Masters Review. She blogs about grief and disability at https://elizabethkleinfeld.substack.com/.

This piece was previously published on HuffPost and is being shared again now as part of HuffPost Personal’s “Best Of” series.

Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch at pitch@huffpost.com.

With the autumn months approaching, we’re reaching that point of the year when some of our favourite shows, from Strictly Come Dancing and the Great British Bake Off to Drag Race UK, all start returning to our screens.

But September has some promising new and returning shows coming to Netflix, too.

After two years away, one of the biggest hits in recent years, The Gentlemen, is finally back for new episodes, while Ryan Murphy’s always-controversial Monster anthology series is taking a very different approach with its latest offering.

Then, there’s a new binge-worthy reality show to sink your teeth into, as well as a feature-length outing for one of the 2020s’ biggest TV comedies and, Netflix being Netflix, plenty of true crime to get streaming, too.

Here are just nine of the shows and films we’ll be streaming in the coming weeks…

Tell me more: Australian break dancer Rachael Gunn, better known to her followers as Raygun, accidentally became one of the 2020s’ most talked-about Olympians when she made her debut in Paris and went viral for all the wrong reasons.

Looking back two years on, this documentary gives Rachael the chance to tell the story of her rise to infamy in her own words, not just looking back at the lighter moments of her meme-worthy performance, but the more serious allegations, misinformation and outright abuse that followed it.

Netflix says: “Nobody, least of all Rachael Gunn, expected to be an Olympian. But as Raygun’s performance at the 2024 Paris Olympics went viral overnight, so did an avalanche of memes, misinformation and conspiracy theories questioning how she ever got there.”

Tell me more: Netflix might have kept fans waiting two years for the next instalment in Guy Ritchie’s unhinged crime drama, but if the early reviews are anything to go by, it was worth the wait.

Once again, Theo James and Kaya Scodelario are leading the star-studded cast that includes returning faces like Vinnie Jones, Ray Winstone and Giancarlo Esposito, as well as some intriguing new additions including Love Island host Maya Jama and Downton Abbey’s Hugh Bonneville.

Excitingly, much of the action this time around takes place in Italy, as Eddie and Susan’s work takes them even deeper into the criminal underworld.

Netflix says: “It’s been one year since Eddie and Susie joined forces to work together in Bobby’s criminal empire overseas. As they drive to expand their enterprise, the decisions Bobby is making seem to be increasingly unsound.

“Now Eddie and Susie must decide whether to take action or risk losing it all, but unfettered ambition never ends well…”

Tell me more: Alright, remember a couple of weeks ago when Donald Trump ducked out of Air Force One in a catering truck to quietly board another plane, leaving behind the secret service, the plane’s crew and his own staff.

Well, this one-off documentary is looking into exactly what that was all about, and what actually went on…

Netflix says: “This July, while flying back from a NATO summit in Turkey, President Trump slipped off Air Force One in a catering truck and secretly boarded a different aircraft – leaving traveling reporters to fly on, unaware the president was no longer with them.

“Instadocs: The Decoy Plane unpacks the incident through firsthand accounts from members of the press corps who were aboard Air Force One as well as a former Secret Service agent and a former Air Force One crew member.”

Tell me more: The latest offering to come from Tyler Perry’s Netflix deal is a new instalment in his Why Did I Get Married? series.

Almost 20 years on from the original film, the gang are back together to prepare for one of the couple’s nuptials, which naturally begins to raise questions among them about relationships, marriage and how far an apple ever falls from the tree.

Joining Tyler in the film are returning faces like Jill Scott and Richard T Jones (though, sadly, pop superstar Janet Jackson does not appear due to a scheduling conflict).

Netflix says: “In Tyler Perry’s Why Did I Get Married Again?, the couples reunite in celebration as Marcus and Angela’s daughter prepares to tie the knot.

“After being apart for quite some time, they learn quickly that as much as things change, they stay the same. Realising their children have grown up to be so much like them, they must reflect on the examples they’ve set and ask themselves that age-old question, why did they get married… again?”

Tell me more: Originally a hit among viewers in France, the French-language comedy Call My Agent! became an international hit when its final season premiered at a time when much of the world was in lockdown.

As the title suggests, the satirical showbiz series centres around a hapless pair of agents and their struggles to satisfy their many famous clients, with this new movie instalment picking up six years later.

This time around, the action takes us out of the agents’ offices and into the wider world, sending up the entire movie industry as Andréa takes a big leap into directing – which proves every bit as chaotic as fans might expect.

Netflix says: “Five years after the agency closed its doors, Andréa is finally ready to direct her first feature film.

“When her lead actor quits and she falls out with her producer, she joins forces with Noémie – now a reality TV producer – believing she can easily manipulate her. But as she faces a complete recasting, on-set disasters, and a legal battle threatening the custody of her daughter, everything begins to unravel.

“One by one, the former ASK colleagues converge on this high-tension film set. Each arrives with their own role, their ego, and a fair share of old grudges – little do they know what this reunion truly has in store for them.”

Tell me more: OK, we’re going to be honest. Between the grisly and graphic violence and so many controversies casting such a long shadow over everything, Ryan Murphy’s Monster has never really been a project we’ve had much interest in sitting through – but with its latest iteration, he’s finally piqued our interest.

Much has already been made of the fact that season four centres around the “first female monster”, with Ella Beatty taking on the role of the acquitted axe murder suspect Lizzie Borden, but it’s also the first to take place so far in the past – with its period setting being one of the biggest draws.

Then, of course, there’s the cast, with Ella being joined by Rebecca Hall, Vicky Krieps and, in his return to Monster, Charlie Hunnam – and Sarah Paulson also set to appear as Aileen Wuornos in one of the show’s most intriguing casting decisions to date.

Netflix says: “Lizzie Borden took an axe… The first female monster from Ryan Murphy’s famed anthology series.”

Tell me more: One for fans of Squid Game: The Challenge, Netflix’s new competition series brings Willy Wonka’s factory to life, with contestants being put through a series of bizarre games and challenges befitting of the iconic chocolatier.

Although the show looks to be as much of a visual feast as you’d imagine, Wonka’s The Golden Ticket has already left something of a sour taste for some, over its use of an AI-generated rendering of the late Gene Wilder’s voice to “host” the games.

Netflix says: “Twelve lucky Golden Ticket winners, each with a partner of their choosing, will step through the gates of Wonka’s Chocolate Factory and into a world of pure imagination, delicious mischief, and unexpected challenges.

“Once inside, contestants must navigate a series of Wonka’s games, tests, and temptations designed to challenge them physically, mentally, and morally.

“In this high-stakes social experiment, players will journey through the factory’s wondrous and unpredictable landscape, adapting, strategizing, and withstanding the unknown while proving they have the instincts, resilience, and character to thrive in chaos. In the end, only one contestant will have what it takes to earn Wonka’s life-changing prize.”

Tell me more: Just so we’ve got this clear… this is a Lego reimagining of a Netflix live-action series, inspired by the anime, which itself was adapted from the manga.

Convoluted though it may sound, anyone who has been gripped by the Straw Hats’ swashbuckling adventures will probably get a kick out of this two-part miniseries, which has rendered the story you already know in Lego form.

Netflix says: “Get ready to set sail! In this two-part animated Lego special, Usopp, the Straw Hats’ most reliably unreliable narrator, regales Chopper with the crew’s escapades across the East Blue and into the Grand Line, prior to him joining them in Drum Island. Usopp only tells the tallest of tales, and this action packed special is no different!”

Tell me more: Over the last few years, Netflix has become synonymous with its true crime offerings, and whether you find them gripping, weirdly intriguing, distasteful or a complete turn-off, the service is ending the month with another one.

In this new offering, The Widower: ’Til Death Do Us Part, a detective and investigative journalist team up to get to the bottom of a story involving a Las Vegas man who has been married six times, four of which ended in his wife dying in mysterious circumstances.

Netflix says: “In this documentary, a journalist and a detective uncover the truth about a killer whose charm masked a trail of failed marriages and suspicious deaths.”