A cabinet split has erupted after Angela Rayner condemned home secretary Shabana Mahmood’s immigration crackdown.

The communities secretary said Mahmood had “changed the goalposts” by making it harder for foreign social care workers to live in the UK permanently.

In a further headache for Andy Burnham, a former cabinet minister said he was not doing enough to boost economic growth.

The deep divisions which remain within Labour came to the fore again on the eve of the party’s annual conference in Liverpool.

Mahmood’s reforms will increase the timeline for permanent residence in the UK from five years to 15 years for foreign social care workers, and will apply to all those who have come to the country since 2021.

Speaking to The Times, Rayner said she stood by her previous criticisms that the changes are “un-British”.

Asked if she had changed her views, she: “Especially in regards to the carers, who were asked to come to this country to care for some of our most vulnerable and then we changed the goalposts years down the line, I think that’s very disruptive.

“I do have concerns about that … when you ask someone to come here and look after your most vulnerable and they spend years dedicating themselves, moving their lives here to look after our loved ones.”

But culture secretary Lisa Nandy backed Mahmood, telling Radio 4’s Today programme: “I don’t think that we’ve ever had an automatic right to citizenship for most people who come to the UK from overseas.”

She said the Home Secretary is trying to “balance the respect and gratitude that we all feel to people who come to this country, who make a contribution” with the need for an immigration system the public can have confidence in.

Meanwhile, former science secretary Peter Kyle – who was sacked by Burnham when he replaced Keir Starmer as PM – said the government needed to do more to grow the economy.

He said that should include slowing down the rollout of new rights for workers.

Kyle told the BBC: “We might need to look and have honest conversations with unions about how we sequence some of the rights going forward in order to make sure that we get growth into the economy in the shorter term.”

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.

If millennials had the “teapot pose” – one hand jauntily on the hip, elbow sticking straight out like a teapot handle – Gen Z has the “boob rest” pose.

Younger celebrities – Selena Gomez, Dua Lipa, Hailey Bieber, Millie Bobby Brown and Zendaya – have all been photographed on the red carpet with their hand (or hands) casually draped across their chests.

Sometimes it’s coquettish, projecting a “oh, you caught me off guard, let me just daintily place my hand here while you take that photo” vibe. Other times, it’s more overt: a full-blown boob grab.

Kylie Jenner defaults to the pose with such aplomb that when Hacks comedians Meg Stalter and Paul W. Downs cosplayed as Jenner and her boyfriend, Timothée Chalamet, at the 2026 Critics Choice Awards, Stalter’s look came complete with a boob-rest pose.

The trend has trickled down to non-celebrities, too.

Lizzie Kloehn, a 25-year-old content creator and photographer, loves the pose because it gives her something to do with her hands. (Who among us hasn’t frozen when a camera comes out and thought, “Oh, no – what do I do with these?”)

“I think the reason it’s become so popular is because it’s just one of those poses that feels super natural, non-awkward and easy to hit when a camera is suddenly pointed at you,” she told HuffPost. “[It’s] kind of like putting your hand on your hip, doing a peace sign or grabbing your shoe.”

A well-positioned chest rest can be chic, calling to mind a bosomy Regency era portrait or something more editorial than your standard selfie. It can highlight a pricey manicure or a necklace you’re dying to show off. The focus can be on your décolletage or it can very much be on your boobs, said Neriyah Perez, a 22-year-old from Austin, Texas, who loves the look.

“You can draw focus and pose your hand in a delicate way that says, ‘I am effortlessly graceful’ or in a bolder way that says, ‘I am touching my own body because I am comfortable in my body,’” she said.

Perez realises that perceptions may vary.

“Some guys may love the pose because they say it looks hot or projects confidence, but women see the perfectly placed fingers, the new French tip nails, the jewellery, the placement on the chest being more boob or more toward a detail on a blouse,” she said. “Every detail says something different from the female gaze.”

Mariela Campbell, a wedding photographer in Southern California, tries to keep abreast (sorry, had to) of posing trends. She’s noticed the sudden ubiquity of the boob rest, and thinks that usually it is about highlighting cleavage.

“When you’re going straight for the chest, my honest read is that it’s rarely about the jewellery or the manicure, even if that’s the cover story,” she told HuffPost. “It’s cleavage, and it does exactly what it’s designed to do.”

All generations have their default poses, Campbell said, and for Gen Z, this is just one of them with sticking power.

Other poses favoured by the younger set include the “shmile,” short for “shut-eye smile,” and the “Gen Z pout,” an it-girl selfie aesthetic The New York Times recently covered. The pose combines a blank stare with the upper lip slightly lifted and the lower lip tucked upward. I’m disassociating but I also look hot, it reads.

Some day, the chest rest pose and all the others may be a relic of old like the millennial Myspace angle – camera held up high, chin down, duck lips – and the aforementioned millennial teapot pose. (Let’s not talk about the “moustache finger” Tumblr phase.)

“Go back further and you get the Sears-portrait generation: hands folded neatly in the lap, or one hand resting on a spouse’s shoulder, everyone facing the camera square-on because that’s just how you posed for a photo,” Campbell said.

Prom photos in the ’90s and 2000s had their own uniform, too, Campbell said: hands on hips, or draped around a date’s neck.

“Every era has had a ‘this is what looks good’ pose passed around until it becomes reflexive,” she said.

“The boob rest is simply Gen Z’s version of a very old instinct: give people a camera and an uncertainty about how to pose confidently, and they’ll reach for whatever pose culture has told them reads as attractive that week.”

Are there events where a boob rest may not be the move? Some online feel like brides may regret doing the pose in their wedding photos.

As band strategist Lindsay Hyatt wrote in a viral tweet on Threads last month, “That boob rest hand pose is a real thing. I just saw a bride (DIFFERENT wedding) do it in every picture. She will be annoyed with herself for doing that in 14 years.”

Campbell gets that argument.

“I won’t let a client use it while I’m photographing their wedding – full stop,” she said. “I guide them toward natural, beautiful poses throughout the day. But when it’s time to cut loose and have some fun, I give them free rein, and if that’s their default pose, so be it!”

Kim Marquez, a photographer in Colorado’s San Luis Valley, said that with so many photos taken over the course of a wedding, she won’t dissuade a bride from taking a boob rest photo if that’s what she’s feeling.

“I think it’s a flattering pose if the person wants to do it and they feel confident about it,” she said. “I don’t suggest the pose, per se, but I usually ask my clients to move their hand in a similar way to their chest above their boobs, and love that one. It’s always a collaborative effort to help my clients feel confident.”

So if that’s your style, grab ’em if you got ’em. (Or if you don’t got ’em; there’s no reason why men can’t get in on the boob rest pose.)

Our 33-year-long marriage ended over Zoom.

Not in a courtroom. Not with slammed doors, raised voices or a dramatic final goodbye. Because we were still living in the aftermath of Covid-19, our divorce hearing happened quietly through a computer screen … as casually as any routine virtual meeting.

I wrestled with what to wear that day. Should it be businesslike or casual? In the end, I was glad I chose something simple, because the moment itself was far less formal than I expected. It was just me and my soon-to-be ex-husband, the judge and our legal representation. The whole thing took no more than 10 minutes.

At one point, the judge even paused and asked if we were absolutely sure this was what we wanted. I think our kindness toward one another – and the fact that we both had smiles on our faces and even chuckled several times – caught him off guard.

In his defense, he was probably accustomed to presiding over divorce cases filled with tension, bitterness or silence so sharp it can cut through air. But my former husband and I simply smiled and answered the same way: “Yes.” And just like that, our three-plus decades of being married was done.

I expected to feel grief afterwards, but I was surprised by the absence of regret. Nobody really talks about peaceful divorce, especially in the church, and especially when you’ve spent more than 25 years in ministry and are the people others assumed would make it all the way to the finish line together.

The hardest part wasn’t ending the marriage. It was disappointing people who needed our marriage to represent something. How many people stay in situations, not because they’re right for them, but because other people are invested in their story? And how many of us have silenced our own truth to preserve a story that no longer belonged to us?

For weeks before sharing the news publicly – well, not that publicly… only our kids, my sisters, a few others, a quick mention in a blog post, and a reference to it in my last two books (heck, it’s been almost four years now, and some people still don’t know) – I went back and forth on whether I wanted to tell anyone at all.

It wasn’t because I was ashamed of our decision, but because I knew how quickly people assign failure to divorce, especially in Christian circles. I dreaded the whispers, the pearl-clutching, the subtle disappointment hidden behind concerned expressions. I could already hear the questions forming in people’s minds: What happened? Who changed? Whose fault was it? Who gave up?

The truth was far less dramatic than people probably wanted it to be. There was no scandal. No sudden breaking point. No explosive betrayal. No hatred growing quietly behind closed doors.

There were simply two people who had spent 33 years building a beautiful life together and eventually realising we wanted different things for our next chapters. That realisation came with both grief and relief. That’s the part people struggle to understand: Both emotions can exist at the same time.

Sometimes love changes form, sometimes letting go is the most loving thing two people can do for each other, and sometimes peace is holier than performance.

Our decision to divorce wasn’t the result of one defining moment. There wasn’t a single conversation or turning point that suddenly changed everything. It was more like a truth we had been circling for a long time – a truth we both felt but weren’t always ready to acknowledge, let alone fully face.

I think more marriages experience this than people realise. Sometimes one person feels it first. Sometimes both do. The hard part is being honest enough to admit it. When two people are willing to do that, there comes a point where pretending becomes more exhausting than accepting what they already know.

For us, that moment wasn’t about a lack of love. It was coming to grips with the fact that neither of us wanted to spend the rest of our lives asking the other person to become someone they weren’t.

We had built a beautiful life together, but we had also grown into different people with different desires for the years ahead. Once we accepted that, the decision itself became clear as a bell, even if it wasn’t easy.

That isn’t to say our marriage was perfect. Far from it. We had our struggles, our disappointments, and our share of painful seasons. But those things weren’t the reason we divorced. The simple truth was that we had grown in different directions and were finally able to come to terms with it.

Some mornings after that Zoom meeting, I’d wake up and, for a split second, I’d forget that I was divorced. Then reality would quietly settle in. I’d realise every decision belonged solely to me now: what to do, where to go, what’s for dinner, how to move through the day. After spending the majority of my adult life considering another person in every choice, that kind of freedom felt unfamiliar.

There were moments when fear gripped me unexpectedly. Moments nostalgia washed over me without warning. Moments I whispered to myself, Oh God, what have we done? But even in those moments, I knew this was the right decision. That certainty surprised me and comforted me all at the same time.

I think part of the emotional warfare surrounding divorce has less to do with the relationship itself and more to do with the weight of disappointing the people you love. I come from a family where long marriages are the norm. My parents were married for nearly 45 years before my mother passed away. My siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins and family friends have all been married for years.

Then there was ministry. For decades, my former husband and I led a congregation, counselled couples, officiated weddings, encouraged families and prayed with people through difficult seasons in their marriages. The ironic part is that I even wrote a book on relationships and communication. Looking back, I can see how even that was preparing me for this chapter of my life, not in vain, but as a part of an unfolding I had no idea about at the time.

I worried people would see our divorce and immediately reduce our entire story to one word: failure. But I no longer see it that way. And if I’m honest, I don’t think I ever truly did. It was one of life’s greatest lessons. It was a marriage that brought three incredible children into the world, filled our home with love and laughter, carried us through multiple states, seasons of ministry, hardships, prosperity, grief and celebration, and eventually a wonderful son-in-law and two beautiful grandchildren. That is the furthest thing from failure to me. It was my life, and I’ll always be grateful for it.

Our family dynamics may have changed, but we’re still family. My ex-husband’s family is mine, and my family is his. And when I say we’re still family, I don’t mean that as a statement to make our ending seem perfect. I mean it quite literally. We talk on the phone often. My sisters and brothers-in-law still consider him their brother. He remains uncle to my nieces and nephews. Our shared friends are still our friends. If time permits, he shows up for family events every now and then. And, to many people’s surprise, he’s even still my pastor.

I know that may sound unusual, even hard to understand, because it doesn’t fit the way most people are taught to think about divorce. However, for us, our divorce ended our marriage, not a lifetime of shared history, mutual respect and genuine care. Those things didn’t disappear when the paperwork was signed. If anything, they became easier to appreciate once we stopped trying to force our relationship into something that no longer worked.

We still want the best for one another. Our children love us both deeply, and we’ve been intentional about protecting that throughout this process. Life may continue evolving for both of us, but I don’t believe that has to erase the love and respect we share. In some ways, we may be better friends now, free from the weight of the identity we had built together.

In letting go of old ways of being, we both received the space to finally grow into who we were always meant to be, without trying to hold together a version of ourselves that no longer fit. Most of all, we ended a marriage without ending our love for each other as human beings. Instead of mourning what we’ve lost, we’re celebrating what remains.

Some people may find this strange, because we live in a culture that often treats divorce like emotional warfare where someone must become the villain and someone has to bear the blame so the story makes sense. But life is rarely that simple.

Peaceful endings often make some people uncomfortable. They challenge the narratives we’ve grown accustomed to. People understand betrayal. They understand toxicity and drama. They understand painful, messy endings. Mutual love and mutual release sometimes confuse people, because we’ve been taught to see letting someone go as a sign of loss or defeat.

Of course, I still grieved. You don’t close a 33-year chapter of your life without feeling the weight of it. And there are definitely moments when I miss what once was. But I don’t miss pretending. I don’t miss ignoring what we both knew deep down inside of us.

Ultimately, I’m grateful neither of us forced the other to continue living a life that no longer brought joy, peace or fulfillment simply because other people expected us to.

I’ve learned that divorce does not automatically make someone bitter, broken or spiritually deficient. It does not erase the good that existed before the ending. And, despite what many Christians have been taught, sometimes grace looks less like enduring unhappiness with no end in sight and more like setting each other free with compassion.

My former husband and I are still friends. We still support one another. We still love our family fiercely. After 33 years together, I genuinely want him to have a beautiful life as he moves forward. And I know he wants the same for me.

Michell F. Pulliam is a storyteller, author and midlife advocate who writes on identity, faith, relationships and personal transformation. Over 25 years, she and her former husband pioneered ministries across four states, building faith-driven communities. She is the author of four books, including “Rooted,” a memoir inspired by the discovery of a rare maternal haplogroup tracing back 44,000 years, exploring ancestry, identity and the women whose stories came before her. She is passionate about helping women reclaim their voice, rewrite their story and remember who they are.

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.

Some parenting habits are so routine, you probably don’t give them a second thought. Maybe you taste your child’s food with a spoon before handing that same spoon to them, blow on a too-hot bite before giving it to them or take a sip from the same cup before handing it over.

While these moments may seem completely harmless, sharing food in this way involves something you might not have considered: saliva transfer.

There’s no need to panic over every shared bite or sip, but paediatric health experts say it’s worth understanding how saliva-sharing can affect your family’s health, and how simple changes can help reduce unnecessary exposure.

One concern health experts have about saliva transfer is that it can introduce Streptococcus mutans, the primary bacteria responsible for tooth decay, into a child’s mouth.

These bacteria feed on sugars and produce acids that can wear away tooth enamel. “Babies are not born with the main cavity-causing bacteria, so these germs are usually passed to children from a parent or carer through saliva,” said Dr. Soha Sharif, children’s dentist at Pure Dentistry.

“If a child’s mouth is colonised by these microbes early on, there’s a greater risk of them developing early childhood tooth decay.”

The caregiver’s oral health can make a difference, too. If they don’t have untreated decay, active gum disease or a mouth infection, any saliva that reaches the child will generally contain fewer harmful microbes.

“However, good oral hygiene doesn’t make saliva sharing risk-free. The mouth is never 100% sterile, and some decay-causing bacteria are always present,” Dr Sharif said.

She added that Streptococcus mutans can also team up with Candida albicans to create plaque that’s stickier and more acidic. “Its presence in a child’s mouth leads to a much higher risk of early childhood caries, and children with severe early decay often carry the same candida strain as their mother,” Dr Sharif said.

But dental health isn’t the only consideration. Dr. Amanda Furr, a board-certified paediatrician and chief medical officer at Zarminali Pediatrics, points out that viruses can also be transmitted through saliva, meaning common infections such as colds, flu and strep throat could potentially spread to a child before a caregiver even realises they’re sick.

“More severe infections like herpes simplex virus 1, or cold sores, can [also] be spread via saliva,” said Dr Furr, noting that a child’s first infection with this virus can cause extremely painful sores in the mouth and on the face. “In newborns, it can cause life-threatening meningitis, an infection around the brain.”

Experts agree that birth to about age three is the most vulnerable period for children when it comes to the potential health effects of saliva transfer.

“Newborns are particularly vulnerable to infection from saliva transfer,” said Dr. Leslie Treece, board-certified paediatrician at Cookeville Pediatric Associates, pointing to their underdeveloped immune systems.

“Possibly the most feared infection is the herpes virus from a kiss. This particular risk still exists past 30 days of age, but is much lower.”

The mutans bacteria, in particular, are a concern during these early years. “During this period is when new teeth are erupting, which gives the bacteria a fresh hard surface to attach to,” Dr Sharif said. “Since the child’s oral microbiome and immune system are still developing, the bacteria can cause damage faster.”

She added that once these microbes become established, they can be difficult to displace.

Dr Treece noted that by around age three, children typically have their own bacterial colonies established and better hygiene habits in place, which can help lower their risk. However, there are still periods when vulnerability may increase.

“There’s another window between ages six and 12 years, because their permanent teeth are erupting at that time,” said Dr Treece, adding that the risk is lower after age three. “The vulnerability changes as a child gets older. But is never really zero.”

Drinks get swapped, you mindlessly stick a spoon in your mouth to test your kid’s food, or maybe everybody shares a bite of dessert. “As a mother, I understand the realities of everyday family life,” Dr Furr said. “This is normal and cannot be prevented entirely.”

While an occasional instance of saliva transfer isn’t something to lose sleep over, there’s one situation where it’s best to be cautious.

“If someone is showing signs of illness or cold sores, any sharing of food or saliva exposure should be avoided to reduce exposure, especially in infants and newborns,” Dr Furr said.

She also recommended extra precautions, including avoiding kissing a baby on the face, covering coughs and washing hands frequently.

Sharing food often goes both ways: kids may take bites of a caregiver’s meal or sneak sips from their drink, too. While saliva transfer is one consideration, experts point out that there are other health and safety factors worth keeping in mind.

Beyond choking hazards, especially when a caregiver’s meal includes chunks of meat or nuts, there’s also the risk of foodborne illness. Dr Treece noted that children under age five are more vulnerable than adults.

“Young children have immature immune systems, and they can develop severe illness from food pathogens that an adult might tolerate with little to no symptoms,” she said, adding that this is especially worth considering with higher-risk foods, such as undercooked eggs, raw seafood, unpasteurised dairy, deli meats and bagged lettuce.

Allergen exposure is another potential concern. “If a child with known food allergies is sharing food with an adult, they can have a reaction to something the adult ate even a few hours earlier,” Dr Treece explained.

To prevent saliva transfer, Dr Sharif recommended testing your child’s food temperature on your skin. If you need to taste it, use a separate, clean spoon whenever possible. “If you’re sharing a spoon, you should run it under warm running water to reduce the risk of sharing saliva,” she said.

Dr Furr also recommended avoiding shared drinks when possible. “Keep baby bottles and pacifiers clean and carry extras. A caregiver should not put these objects in their mouth in an attempt to clean them,” she said, noting that soap and water should be used instead.

Ever heard of the names “kiko” and “bouba”?

These are made-up nouns that scientists invented to test how we link images to language. When people are shown a blobby shape and a spiky shape, then asked which one suits “kiko” and which is a better match for “bouba”, they overwhelmingly dub the round one “bouba”.

Its sharper sibling is often seen as more of a “kiko”, meanwhile. This result is consistent across languages and cultures.

And it seems a similar phenomenon called the “mil/mal effect” might even change how we choose our food.

This means that people usually associate sounds like “ee” and “t” with smaller sizes, while words with broader “b” and “oh” noises are perceived as relating to bigger objects.

For instance, people might be likelier to think a table called “mal” was larger than one arbitrarily named “mil”, without seeing either.

A paper that sought to find out how snack names changed our expectations of them used this theory.

The researchers asked people to describe what they thought about snacks with fictive names. Half of these (like Iskee, Keesee, Kitsip, and Spisiki) were expected to be seen as “smaller”, while the other half (Bromogaw, Gawdoe, and Gobo) were designed to sound “bigger”.

Scientists assigned these names to both healthier foods (like porridge and trail mix), and less-healthy items, like crisps. Participants were given different names for different products to review.

It seemed that regardless of snack type, people imagined snacks with “bigger” names – like Blorgo – as being heavier and more filling than those with “smaller” fake brands, like Iskee.

That didn’t seem to affect whether or not participants said they’d choose to buy the products in a supermarket, though. The biggest factor there was the would-be buyer’s goals: when asked which they’d pick for a friend who liked hearty fried food, people were likelier to choose a “big”-sounding snack name.

When asked to shop for a mate who prefers lighter meals, however, they tended to opt for something like a smaller-sounding Kipi.

In general, Teek was an especially popular choice, while it seems nobody wanted to consume poor Blorogo.

The research concluded: “Sound symbolism shapes our perception of the world. Sounds that are associated with information about size and weight can have an impact on food expectations – even through minimal exposure such as reading a food product’s brand name.

“The present research underlines the importance of considering language surrounding food products for expectation and purchase intentions.”

Ryan Murphy’s Monster anthology series has always taken artistic liberties when it comes to its central figures, but the Netflix show went even further with this than usual with The Lizzie Borden Story.

The fourth season is based on the infamous yet little-recorded tale of a 32-year-old woman in Massachusetts who, in 1982, was tried and acquitted for the gruesome axe murders of her father and stepmother.

Due to the era of the murders, and Lizzie’s conflicting statements, little is known about what really happened in the case that’s still being debated more than a century later.

What history didn’t record, creators Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan took creative licence to fill in, connecting women through history by their rage at society.

Here’s a quick guide to what’s fact and fiction in Monster’s latest iteration…

In Monster, Ella Beatty’s Lizzie is seen experiencing immense period pain. There is no evidence that this was the case for Lizzie Borden in real life, although she did mention menstrual blood to the police following the killing.

When the authorities found bloody clothes in a bucket in the basement, Lizzie told them it was period blood.

A family doctor confirmed this would have lined up with the timings of Lizzie’s cycle, so authorities didn’t investigate the blood further.

The show also portrayed Lizzie as suffering from a rare imperforate hymen, a detail which was completely invented for the Netflix series.

Bridget Sullivan was a real person who worked as the Borden family maid for two years before Andrew and Abby were killed.

Historian Cara Robertson told Business Insider that the idea of a sexual relationship between Bridget and Lizzie can be traced back to fictional takes of the true crime case.

Other notable media to include this detail include Evan Hunter’s 1984 novel, Lizzie, and the 2018 movie of the same name, starring Chloë Sevigny and Kristen Stewart.

Meanwhile, it seems that the real-life Bridget was a world away from the version of the character created by Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan.

Her grandniece, Dianna Porter, told The Herald News in 2012 that family members recall the former maid as being strict, mean and having “no sense of humour” – a far cry from the dyed-hair-sporting, sex-toy-enthusiast Bridget we see on the show.

Rebecca Hall’s character repeatedly refers to Bridget as “Maggie” in Monster, because it was the name of an old maid, and she didn’t wish to learn another.

In real life, it actually was Lizzie who didn’t have much concern for learning Bridget’s name.

“Lizzie never bothered to call her by her real name,” historian Cara told the BBC.

Lizzie Borden family as portrayed in Monster is deeply disturbed.

The show depicts a long-held theory that Lizzie was sexually abused by her father, which is part of why she killed him.

Although this is a popular theory, there is no actual evidence establishing that she was abused by her father in this way.

There is, however, evidence that Lizzie and her older sister, Emma, were both frustrated with their father’s frugality, and that neither were greatly fond of their stepmother.

Monster argues that the real villains of the series are actually Andrew and Abby Borden, who are portrayed as an unhappily married couple who regularly cheat on each other.

During the middle of the season, Monster’s Abby has an affair with the brother of Andrew’s first wife, Sarah, while Andrew impregnates the family’s maid.

All of this was invented just for the show, with the Borden’s family physician, Dr. Seabury W. Bowen, testifiying that there was no sinister aspect to their marriage – and even if the relationship it was a transactional one, it wasn’t unfriendly.

“Mrs. Borden was a lovely woman, and I remained there because she wanted me to,” Sullivan said, per the 2015 book The Fall River Tragedy: A History Of The Borden Murder.

In the Netflix show, before Andrew and Abby are axed to death, Lizzie first tries to poison them, serving her father and stepmother bad oysters, resulting in a gruesome projectile-vomitting sequence. This doesn’t kill the couple, instead just leaving them incapacitated for an evening.

The whole family, in reality – including both Lizzie and Bridget – were struck down with a stomach illness just days before the murders took place. Records suggest swordfish and mutton broth caused their illness.

A pharmacist did also claim that Lizzie tried to buy poison in the days leading up to the murders, but was not sold it.

Before Lizzie kills her parents, she and Bridget do a “trial run” on a family friend, Betha Manchester.

In the show, Bertha is seen physically abusing Bridget while she’s doing some work for her, resulting in Lizzie killing Bertha with an axe.

Bertha was a real life person who was murdered, but her death took place 10 months after the Bordens were killed.

Jose Correa de Mello, who worked for Bertha’s father, was charged with the crime.

The Bordens’ maid Bridget plays a big role in Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story – but her place in history is a bit more complicated.

In Netflix’s version of events, Lizzie and Bridget are depicted killing Abby and Andrew with hatchets before covering for each other to the police.

However, the real Bridget claimed in her testimony that she was washing windows outside when Abby was killed in an upstairs guest room. She insisted that she didn’t hear any screams, but did hear Lizzie laughing upstairs.

There has never been any evidence that she was involved in Abby and Andrew Morden’s murder.

Monster includes a scene where Lizzie burns her dress shortly after killing her father and stepmother.

This did happen, according to family friend Alice Russell during the trial.

At the time, police couldn’t find a murder weapon or any blood-stained clothing, which is what stopped authorities from immediately arresting Lizzie.

In her testimony, Alice claimed she saw Lizzie standing near a stove holding her dress, telling her sister: “I am going to burn this old thing up. It is covered with paint.”

Her sister Emma later testified that it was an old dress, and Lizzie had brushed against wet paint the last time she wore it.

In Monster, Lizzie loves theatre, and forms a bond with the actor Nance O’Neil, who gives Lizzie advice on how to convince the jury she is innocent during her murder trial.

Nancy is a real person, and did have a bond with Lizzie, but this only came to be much later in her story.

The pair, in real life, met in 1904, 11 years after Lizzie was acquitted. Whether or not they were lovers is another mystery that the show embellishes.

Monster portrays Lizzie’s relationship with older sister Emma as being cold and strained. Lizzie’s sister physically attacks her in the series, after blaming her for their father’s death – something there is no historical proof of.

In fact, Emma was apparently supportive of Lizzie, and stood by her side throughout the trial, according to Sarah Miller’s 2016 book The Borden Murders: Lizzie Borden And The Trial of the Century.

After the trial, Lizzie and Emma left their home in Fall River and moved to Maplecroft to “live quietly” together on an estate.

However, their relationship did sour after the trial. After 12 years living together, the pair fell out after Lizzie started throwing parties with the actor Nance O’Neil.

“The happenings at the French Street house that caused me to leave,” Emma told the Boston Sunday Herald in 1913, adding: “I did not go until conditions became absolutely unbearable.”

Monster connects Lizzie Borden to Aileen Wuornos, a real-life serial killer who murdered a string of men in Florida between 1989 and 1990.

The show portrays Aileen Wuornos as being obsessed with Lizzie’s story, though this detail is a complete fabrication by the writers of the show.

The show’s co-creator Ian Brennan has opened up to The Hollywood Reporter about incorporating the serial killer into the Borden story.

“It very quickly became that the story we were telling was about female rage,” he explained. “Then we were able to develop this triptych of Elizabeth Bathory, Aileen Wuornos and Lizzie Borden, which kept the show from seeming like a stuffy, diorama piece by going through these time periods of women who were each aware of the next,” Ian explained.

He added: “To have those three stories talk to one another made it feel much more contemporary and of the moment.”

In the final episode of Monster, Lizzie becomes upset when she sees children dressing up as her.

Wanting to make the murders and her acquittal a political statement, she and Bridget decide to join the women’s suffrage movement.

The real Lizzie was never known to have been a suffragette, though. After her trial, she lived a private and isolated life, until her death in 1927.

After the trial in Monster, Bridget is seen buying land in Montana and marrying an older man, before finally ending the marriage and moving in with Lizzie.

In actuality, Bridget testified in Lizzie’s trial in 1983 and then disappeared.

Documents list her as moving to Montana and marrying a man, but the pair stayed wed until her death in 1948. It is likely she never saw Lizzie again after the trial.

The big question of Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story is whether Lizzie actually killed Abby and Andrew.

Although Netflix depicts Lizzie as the killer, the case is still unsolved.

Lizzy was the primary suspect, stood trial for murder and was acquitted by a jury. The prosecution had no eyewitness to either murder, no confession and serious issues with the physical evidence.

One thing the show did get right was Lizzie’s police inquest testimony. She did claim she was preparing for a fishing trip, and was in the barn when her father was killed.

More than 130 years later, nobody can say with certainty who killed Andrew and Abby Borden, as much as Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan want us to think that she did it…

All four seasons of Monster are now streaming on Netflix.