Corona, corona, corona. You wouldn’t know whether to laugh, scream, or stockpile cyanide pills in case the mass outbreak of stupidity becomes too intolerable, no matter how much you self-isolate, writes Suzanne Harrington.

Can you be diametrically opposed to the concept of monarchy and still get sucked into The Crown?, asks Suzanne Harrington.

In the dining room in a cheap hotel in Calais, a table of men are having breakfast. When they finish their coffee and croissants, these men – meaty, booted, uniformed, well-paid – will spend their shift driving around Calais and its bleak industrial surrounds.

Heading north on the M1 on the long traffic-clogged slog from Brighton to Leicester, on a dark December Friday evening, I’m stuck in a monster tail back behind lorries and commuters fleeing London, writes Suzanne Harrington

Two friends of mine do something they’ve long dreamed of. They buy some land in rural south west Portugal, pack up their urban lives, and drive to their remote hillside in a big truck

In a charity shop, I stumble across a copy of Barbara Cartland’s 1962 socio-cultural masterpiece, Etiquette Handbook: A Guide To Good Behaviour From The Boudoir To The Boardroom.

Have you ever done Malasana — squat pose, like you are peeing in the woods — while wearing track pants, asks Suzanne Harrington

Rose McGowan, presented as everything from a difficult woman to an unhinged harpy, has burned through such shaming, shouting her anger from the rooftops, writes Suzanne Harrington

You know something is starting to bite when it rattles the right-wing media. 

Brexit, says Milk The Cow podcast, is “Like when Geri Halliwell overestimated her viability as a solo artist and left the Spice Girls.”