Once teams promote a country, are owned by states or have to reflect government policy, sport becomes a playground for power

High fives all round at Hamas high command. The triumphant clink of Gaza Cola tins pings across the bunker. It’s been a tough week for the lads, what with five of their members being killed in the Doha airstrike, but you’ve got to celebrate the little victories, yeah? And as they use what remains of their fragile satellite internet connection to refresh the Cyclingnews live blog for the final time, the Hamas Grand Tour Disruption Division (Vuelta Branch) can toast an operation executed to perfection: the successful mobilisation of more than 100,000 members of the Madrid battalion to force the curtailment of stage 21 of the Tour of Spain.

“They asked us to quit the Vuelta, but we did not surrender to the terrorists,” said Sylvan Adams, co‑owner of the Israel-Premier Tech team targeted by mass protests that disrupted several stages. On Sunday, huge crowds of protesters in Madrid forced the race to conclude 27 miles short of the finish. And if the rancorous and chaotic last three weeks have taught us anything, it is the sheer number of terrorists that appear to have been operating within pro cycling, albeit many armed with nothing more lethal than energy gels.

As the Manchester City legend returns to face his former team, we look back at moments that will never be forgotten

On 22 May 2022, in a dictionary definition of carpe diem, De Bruyne shows his greatness with the assist that harvests another title for City, just as Pep Guardiola’s men veer near to losing the plot. After 69 minutes Aston Villa are cruising at 2-0 up and the title is heading to Anfield where Liverpool, drawing with Wolves 1-1, need a goal to seal a famous last-day triumph. But, after City strikes on 76 and 78 minutes, De Bruyne takes charge. A piercing burst along the right prompts a pinpoint cross to Ilkay Gündogan, whose threaded finish on 81 minutes sends the Etihad Stadium ballistic.

Raquel doesn’t believe ADHD excuses Gina’s bad habits. You decide who needs to brush up on their etiquette

• Find out how to get a disagreement settled or become a juror

I can hear her swishing and spitting from my room. I have a visceral reaction to it

Living with ADHD is difficult, and anyway, the kitchen is not some sacred food-only zone

I was the envy of the friends I’d left behind. Now it seems prudent to assess how much that nativism will truly take root here

This time last year, I had just moved back to Britain from the US and was enjoying the almost universal envy of American friends. While they were looking down the barrel of a second Trump presidency with its guarantee of chaos and division, we had elected Keir Starmer by a landslide and were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves. I remember people congratulating me on the prescience of my move, which I absolutely took even though politics hadn’t been part of my decision (not least because, for most of 2024, I had assumed Trump would lose). Anyway, here we are a year later and who’s laughing now?

I guess the answer to that is Nigel Farage and his Reform UK party, which has somehow managed to harness the anger, disappointment and shame felt by large numbers of people who voted for and were then let down by Brexit, and are now in search of another fire to light. To this extent, the roots of the rightwing march last weekend and the rise of Reform generally feel broadly of a piece with their US antecedents: a case, at least in part, of people clutching at anything that promises to rip up a system that has serially failed to reward them. What has felt shocking to many of us this year, however, is how quickly the political landscape seems to have changed in this country, and how a leader as frivolous as Farage could get anyone to follow him anywhere, let alone in the direction of No 10.

Emma Brockes is a Guardian columnist

A new retrospective by the Black British artist plays with everything from the Victorians’ use of flowers to Eurocentric beauty standards – including one piece she started in 2003

There weren’t many Black students at the Royal College of Art when Joy Gregory was a student in the 1980s, but she did study alongside artist and Blk Art Group founder Keith Piper, who was putting together a Black photography exhibition. “He asked me if I would submit some work,” says the 65-year-old artist.

Piper had liked her work, which explored themes of colonialism, beauty, gender and race. However, her submission was rejected by the organisers on the basis that it simply wasn’t Black enough. “You have to recognise the political climate at that time around practice and making a mark and I was basically taking pictures of flowers,” says Gregory. “For me, you have the right to make whatever work you want. By shutting down what can and cannot be, you start to censor yourself. I was a bit pissed off, thinking: why should you pander to what people think you should be and sit within the box that they’ve created?”

The ninth novel in the Slough House series, this tale of IRA infiltration is a perfect mix of one-liners, plot twists and real-world-tinged intrigue

Trigger warning: the new Slough House novel shares its name, I assume accidentally, with a particularly bleak soft-play centre on London’s North Circular Road in which sticky under-fives circulate through an infernal apparatus wailing and stabbing each other with plastic forks while the grownups sit at plastic tables drinking horrible coffee and waiting for death. Just a glimpse at the dust jacket sent me back a decade to that environment of grubbiness, boredom and mild peril. It’s not that big a leap, mind. There’s something of the knockabout quality of a soft-play centre in Mick Herron’s fictional world: all fun and games until someone loses an eye.

That said, as far as I know, none of the injuries in the real-world Clown Town will have been occasioned by the victim being held down so the front wheel of a Land Rover Defender can be driven over their head – which is the attention-grabbing scene with which Herron opens this latest instalment. As often, Herron’s plot takes off from real-world events: the Stakeknife scandal – in which it turned out that MI5 had been protecting a murderously vicious IRA enforcer as an intelligence asset – appears here in the story of Pitchfork, whose signature “nutting” technique of killing during the Troubles was running over people’s heads.

What you see when you see a blank page is much what you hear when you hear white noise; it’s the early shifting into gear of something not ready to happen – an echo of what you feel when you walk past sights the eyes are blind to; bus queues, whitewashed shopfronts, adverts pasted to lamp-posts, or a four-storey block on Aldersgate Street in the London borough of Finsbury, where the premises gracing the pavement include a Chinese restaurant with ever-lowered shutters and a faded menu taped to its window; a down-at-heel newsagent’s where pallets of off-brand cola cans block the aisle; and, between the two, a weathered black door with a dusty milk bottle welded to its step, and an air of neglect suggesting that it never opens, never closes.

Waterside trails, tastings and cosy inns are just some of the highlights of an autumn break in southern Germany

Under the warm autumn sun, looking out over the lake, I’m sipping tart, refreshing apple-secco. It’s a sparkling prosecco-like aperitif, but made from apples instead of grapes. I eat a few cinnamon apple chips, then move on to the hard stuff: brandy made from heritage apple varieties.

If you hadn’t guessed, apples are big business around here. I’m on a walking trip along the shores of Lake Constance, on Germany’s southern border. About 250,000 tonnes of apples are harvested in this region each year. Our trip has coincided with the annual gourmet event, when local producers set up stalls and sell their wares along 9 miles (15km) of the SeeGang hiking trail between Überlingen, Sipplingen and Bodman-Ludwigshafen (this year it takes place on 12 October). If apples aren’t your jam, there’s also pear-secco and spirits made from everything from plums, cherries and blackcurrants to jerusalem artichokes. Hikers can also sample food such as smoked sausages, cheeses, onion tarts, and homemade cakes and pies.

The people of Johnshaven have watched the sea edge closer and closer. Preserving the path is key to protecting their community

• Photographs by Murdo MacLeod

When Charis Duthie moved to Johnshaven with her husband in 1984, she could cycle along the coastal path out of the village. Now, she meets a dead end where the sea has snatched the land and is instead greeted with a big red warning sign of what is to come: Danger Coastal Erosion.

“You can see gardens that were there and now they’re gone,” she says.

Johnshaven, on Scotland’s North Sea coast, will attract more visitors if it has a well maintained coastal path

Set within the grandeur of Dalkeith Palace and its grounds, 17 leading photographers create work that responds to nature – including beaming family members’ faces on to trees!

Pakistani animator Usman Riaz’s dazzling debut owes much to Hayao Miyazaki, founder of Japan’s legendary studio, even if the magic and wonder falls a little short of his hero

Going by the poster, it looks like Hayao Miyazaki, the founder of Japan’s legendary Studio Ghibli, has come out of retirement – again. But this gorgeous hand-drawn film is a Pakistani production, a feature debut from young animator Usman Riaz with some dazzling images up there with the best of Ghibli. (And there is a connection: Ghibli producer Geoffrey Wexler is credited here as a creative consultant.)

The Glassworker is a heartfelt anti-war film set in a bustling fictional seaside town sometime in the early to mid 20th century. Vincent (voiced by Sacha Dhawan as a young man in the English-language dubbed version) is the son of glassworker Tomas, a pacifist who becomes increasingly unpopular in town as the drumbeats of war grow louder. Vincent receives a letter from his friend Alliz (Anjli Mohindra), the daughter of an army colonel. Much of what follows is bittersweet memories of their childhood, beginning with how they met; there are lovely unforced scenes though some of the voice acting here and elsewhere feels a bit flat.

Deal with nuclear-armed Pakistan comes as Gulf Arab states worry about US reliability while Saudi official says pact isn’t responding to ‘specific events’

Saudi Arabia and nuclear-armed Pakistan have signed a formal mutual defence pact in a move that significantly strengthens a decades-long security partnership amid heightened regional tensions.

The enhanced defence ties come as Gulf Arab states grow increasingly wary about the reliability of the US as their longstanding security guarantor – concerns heightened by Israel’s attack in Qatar last week.

Jenny Chapman is shown the impact of her government’s ever-diminishing assistance on her first trip since taking charge of development

It is mid-afternoon on an overcast day in a suburb of Accra, Ghana’s capital. A crowd, including two government ministers, a World Bank director, diplomats, NGO workers and camera-wielding media, has descended upon a classroom where pupils sit around tables playing with plastic bottle tops.

This is a catch-up class for out-of-school children, aged between eight and 16, run by Ghana Education Outcomes Project that is almost entirely (85%) funded by the UK government. The resulting circus is because Jenny Chapman, the UK’s development minister, has come to see the impact of her government’s diminishing aid budget.

Shoemakers Museum in Somerset village of Street displays everything from school shoes to Wallabees and Desert Boots

For some visitors, the museum may bring back memories of being fitted for their first pair of school shoes on a rather chilly metal gauge. For others, the cabinets of pristine Wallabees and Desert Boots may recall teenage obsessions with US hip-hop or Britpop movements.

Memories will also flood back for the many local people whose families made Clarks shoes for generations, when the box-fresh Shoemakers Museum opens in the Somerset village of Street, near Glastonbury, on Thursday.

Questions mount after Delta State University staff found body of Demartravion Reed near campus pickleball courts

The family of a Black student who was found hanging from a tree on a college campus in Mississippi has retained the civil rights attorney Ben Crump as questions continue to mount around the death.

On Monday, staff at Delta State University found the body of Demartravion “Trey” Reed near campus pickleball courts. Michael Peeler, the Delta State police chief, has said Reed appeared to have died by suicide and that there were no signs of foul play, but concerns have grown and the case has brought up painful memories of the state’s history of racist violence.

• ‘To give you a red card, they need to see your blood’

• Tah booked for first-half challenge on João Pedro

Enzo Maresca blasted the officials after Bayern Munich made the most of Jonathan Tah avoiding a red card and gave Chelsea a rough introduction to life back in the Champions League.

Chelsea’s head coach did not hide his anger with the Spanish referee, José Sánchez Martínez, for only booking Tah for a cynical challenge on João Pedro during the first half at the Allianz Arena on Wednesday night. Maresca was insistent that the Bayern defender should have been sent off after bringing João Pedro down during the buildup to Cole Palmer’s goal for Chelsea, who ended up opening the league phase with a 3-1 defeat to the Bundesliga champions.

• Atlético head coach sent off following Van Dijk’s late goal

• Arne Slot hails side’s fitness and mentality after winner

Diego Simeone said he gave a “human” reaction when he confronted a fan after Liverpool scored a 92nd-minute winner to defeat Atlético Madrid 3-2.

The Atlético head coach, who was dismissed by the referee, claimed he received constant abuse throughout the match and his emotions boiled over after Virgil van Dijk’s goal.

Ange Postecoglou, hands rooted in pockets, was still shaking his head in disbelief as he walked on to the pitch at the final whistle with What a Beautiful Day, an unofficial anthem in these parts, blaring over the speakers.

Swansea had just completed an incomprehensible comeback to advance to the Carabao Cup fourth round at Nottingham Forest’s expense, the hosts scoring twice in the final four minutes of second-half stoppage time.

As Labour flounders and dabbles in the politics of hatred to gain a point or two, it is those far from power who will suffer most

In the days since the largest far-right rally in British history, I keep hearing the same phrase. Friends will talk about those scenes, how London was packed with more than 100,000 day-trippers chanting “send them back”. Then they’ll say: “It’s the 1970s all over again.” I can almost see their minds playing the old reels of Enoch Powell and the National Front.

Being of similar vintage, I too know about abuse in playgrounds and getting chased by skinheads and the house-warming gift of a brick through the window (which the police didn’t deem racist because the motive wasn’t sufficiently explicit – guys, next time wrap it in a memo!). We’re still some way from those days, thankfully, but one important aspect is much worse. Back then, racism was a furtive, guilty pleasure: deep down, even bigots knew their bigotry was ugly. No more.

Aditya Chakrabortty is a Guardian columnist

A meat-free version of the classic layered pasta dish made with good strong cheese and a few essential details you may not have thought of

When I was writing a book about pasta, an acquaintance from Naples who lives in Chișinău, Moldova, with his Welsh wife suggested that the first step with lasagne is to approach it like a town planner. That is, first work out the size of the dish in relation to the size of the pasta sheets (this applies to both fresh and dried), then decide how many layers you want, not only to establish how many sheets you need, but also to proportion the various fillings accordingly. We also decided that the construction of a lasagne should be like that of a bricklayer combined with a Jackson Pollock approach to the sauces.

My ceramic lasagne dish is 30cm x 20cm, and three 10cm x 25cm dried lasagne sheets make a single layer in it, so a five-layer lasagne requires 15 sheets. Most dried lasagne sold today doesn’t require pre-cooking or soaking, but those sheets depend on the sauce being liquid enough to provide enough moisture to hydrate and cook them. Dry sheets also require a relatively long cooking time, so, in the case of today’s lasagne, which involves a dense and creamy, rather than a liquid sauce, I dip the sheets into boiling water for 30 seconds, then in cold water and then lay them on a tea towel to dry, which gives them a head start. It also reduces the total cooking time, which suits the delicate texture of the courgette and ricotta in the sauce.

Lawyers say pro-Palestinian activist remains protected from immigration enforcement while separate federal court case proceeds

An immigration judge in the US state of Louisiana has ordered the deportation of pro-Palestinian protest leader Mahmoud Khalil to Algeria or Syria, ruling that he failed to disclose information on his green card application, according to court documents filed on Wednesday.

Khalil’s lawyers said they intended to appeal against the deportation order, and that a federal district court’s separate orders remain in effect prohibiting the government from immediately deporting or detaining him as his federal court case proceeds. The lawyers submitted a letter to the federal court in New Jersey overseeing his civil rights case and said he will challenge the decision.

About 800,000 people to demonstrate against budget plans, putting pressure on new prime minister

France is braced for one of its biggest strike days in recent years, as trade unions make a rare show of unity to put pressure on the new prime minister, Sébastien Lecornu, to rethink budget cuts and act on wages, pensions and public services.

About 800,000 people are expected to take to the streets in marches across the country on Thursday, according to police, while schools, rail and air transport will all be affected. A total of 80,000 police will be deployed.

In the 1970s, the radical leftwing German terrorist organisation may have spread fear through public acts of violence – but its inner workings were characterised by vanity and incompetence

In the summer of 1970, a group of aspirant revolutionaries arrived in Jordan from West Germany. They sought military training though they had barely handled weapons before. They sought a guerrilla war in the streets of Europe, but had never done anything more than light a fire in a deserted department store. They sought the spurious glamour that spending time with a Palestinian armed group could confer. Above all, they sought a safe place where they could hide and plan.

Some of the group had flown to Beirut on a direct flight from communist-run East Berlin. The better known members – Ulrike Meinhof, a prominent leftwing journalist, and two convicted arsonists called Gudrun Ensslin and Andreas Baader – had faced a more complicated journey. First, they’d had to cross into East Germany, then they took a train to Prague, where they boarded a plane to Lebanon. From Beirut, a taxi took them east across the mountains into Syria. Finally, they drove south from Damascus into Jordan.

For 25 years, Justin and Nichola were an essential part of each other’s lives. Then, one random Wednesday, came a terrible, wrenching phone call

Many lifelong alliances begin with a period of mild intimidation, and so it was with my friendship with Nichola. We were 18, in the first year at university, and shared a few French classes. I didn’t know her name, had never heard her speak in English but, with her voluminous curls and friendly, curious stare, she stood out. I assumed she would be too cool to hang around with someone like me.

One weekend, at a student social in the grotty union bar, booze acted as an icebreaker and the guardrails dropped. Nods of recognition in the corridor became cheery hellos, then toasties in the cafe, followed by nights out and nursing hangovers in front of the TV in our dilapidated student houses.

The two actors play brothers dragged into danger by gangsters, but are too stupid or poorly sketched for you to sympathise with them. It’s a relentlessly cheerless watch

Hard on the heels of the airless misery of Mark Ruffalo’s new venture, Task, comes Jude Law and Jason Bateman’s Black Rabbit, which has a bit more action but the same relentless, cheerless tone and even less forgiving lighting. One more entry and it’s officially a trend! We’ll all have to schedule recovery viewings of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, like winter vitamin D shots, to make it through unbowed.

Law and Bateman are working-class brothers Jake (Law) and Vince (Bateman) Friedkin from Coney Island. They grew up in what we assume from relatively early on was a violent home, dominated by an alcoholic father. They became a Nirvana-lite rock group – Jake the handsome lead, Vince the drummer and creative force – until the latter’s taste for drugs and mayhem put paid to their success. Jake pivoted into management, primarily of multihyphenate talent Wes (Sope Dirisu), and when Vince regained his sobriety and vision and found a building that seized his imagination they all went into business together as restaurateurs, creating the Black Rabbit – a three-storey clubhouse that soon became the toast of bohemian New York.