Rachel Cooke trained as a reporter on The Sunday Times. She is now a writer at The Observer. In the 2006 British Press Awards, she was named Interviewer of the Year.
Mike Bartlett’s triumphant King Charles III and the plodding Barbara Windsor biopic Babs.
Trying to imagine such a thing is less than halfway to understanding it, but it’s a pretty good place to start.
I clutch at John and Kayleigh's potential for happiness as if at straws.
The cast is incredible, but it plays with historical facts, arming its revolutionaries not with serious arguments, but with guns
How Jed Mercurio turns acronyms into utterly natural TV dialogue, and makes lanyards so damned sexy, are two of the great mysteries of our age.
The drama is certainly ripe: all quims and cunnies and special offer hymens.
A man we’d thought destined for certain death reappeared, alive and kicking. Even as my brain raced, I was grinning.
I bet Ivanka Trump is glued to it, down in the White House screening room. Plus: Clique.
The murder-as-dubiously-titillating-entertainment brigade should be required by law to watch Channel 4's A Killing in the Family. Plus: Killing for Love .
It's hard to believe, but the people in Meet the Lords, floating along on the gas of their pomposity, are not fictional characters. Plus: The Replacement reviewed.