Following the fatal shooting of Renee Nicole Good by ICE agents in Minneapolis, the Guardian’s Oliver Laughland and Tom Silverstone travel to the heart of affected neighbourhoods to speak with residents who are fighting to defend their community from violence and intimidation. They embed with ICE watch groups, hear from Somali-American residents, and witness a swarm of federal agents conduct a sweep in the suburbs

The Testament of Ann Lee is a bonkers musical fantasia about an obscure religious sect. Its star and writer-director Mona Fastvold talk fear, bonding – and not needing an Oscar

Not many actors take an interest in the audience’s aftercare. When it comes to The Testament of Ann Lee, however, Amanda Seyfried is hands-on. “Did you watch it with someone you could talk to?” she asks, tilting her head sympathetically, then dipping her full-beam headlight eyes and giving a worried look when I admit that I saw it alone. “It’s nice to process it with somebody else.”

Her concern is understandable. Whatever feelings the film provokes, indifference will not be among them. Heady and rapturous, this is an all-round odd duck of a movie, the sort of go-for-broke phantasmagoria – an 18th-century musical biopic complete with feverish visions and levitating – that was once typical of Lars von Trier or Bruno Dumont. I confess I didn’t know exactly what to make of it, but I knew I had been through a singular experience. Its director, Mona Fastvold, seated beside Seyfried on a sofa in a London hotel room, looks delighted. “That’s my favourite sort of feeling,” she says.

Millions of graduates are trapped by ballooning debts, as their repayments are dwarfed by the interest added

Helen Lambert borrowed £57,000 to go to university and began repaying her student loan in 2021 after starting work as an NHS nurse.

Since then she has repaid more than £5,000, typically having about £145 a month taken from her pay packet. But everything she hands over is dwarfed by the £400-plus of interest that is added to her debt every month, thanks to rates that have been as high as 8%.

What could be better than working at the Friendship Inn with my best friend, Ned? Almost anything else, as it turned out

I adored pubs. They were my natural home. And now, thanks to my best friend, Ned, I’d got a job at the Friendship Inn in Prestwich. It was the mid-1980s, and I was in my early 20s, preparing for the first shift. What could be better than working in a pub called the Friendship alongside my bezzy? And I understood drink – you left Guinness to stand, aimed for half an inch of head on a pint of bitter, and if someone asked for water with a whisky you didn’t fill the glass. Easy-peasy.

As soon as I got behind the bar I panicked. There were perhaps half a dozen people waiting to order, but it looked like a sea of thousands. The bar was particularly tricky because it was shaped like the bow of a ship. Every time I went to one side, customers started calling from the other. I couldn’t remember the faces. Nor the drinks they ordered. I took a funny turn. The faces became twisted, distorted, ghoulish, cackling manically or cursing my incompetence. I felt like Mia Farrow confronting the neighbours’ coven in Rosemary’s Baby, only thankfully I didn’t have a knife.

I poured Guinness for people who had ordered a glass of red, Budweiser for those who wanted a Boddingtons. There wasn’t a thing I didn’t get wrong. And then I broke my first glass. The crowd staring at me got more Rosemary’s Baby by the second. My bitter was headless; my lager all head. I broke another glass. I was getting dizzy, struggling to breathe. My legs were collapsing.

Seeing them separated for the first time felt like a miracle

I was already a mother of three when I lay back for my 10-week ultrasound in 2019. At first, seeing the gel on my stomach and the flickering black and white image on screen was familiar and soothing. Then I saw the look on the sonographer’s face.

She dropped the probe and ran out of the room without a word. I tried not to panic, but by the time she sprinted back in with a doctor, who looked at the screen and said, “Oh my goodness”, I was terrified.

Keep Calm and Carry On: that’s not how people felt as the second world war loomed. But maybe, as Trump stalks, that old slogan is finally making sense

It has become known as the “war of nerves”. An apt name for a jittery, jangling time in British history, consumed with fear of what may be coming, in which the sheer unpredictability of life became – as the historian Prof Julie Gottlieb writes – a form of psychological warfare. Contemporary reports describe “threats of mysterious weapons, gigantic bluff, and a cat-and-mouse game intended to stampede the civilian population of this island into terror”.

It all sounds uncannily like life under Donald Trump, who this week marched the world uphill to war, only to amble just as inexplicably back down again. But Gottlieb is actually describing the period between the Munich crisis of 1938 and the blitz beginning in earnest in September 1940. Her fascinating study of letters, diaries and newspapers from the period focuses not on the big geopolitical picture but on small domestic details, and what they reveal about the emotional impact of living suspended between peace and war: companies advertising “nerve tonics” for the anxious, reports of women buying hats to lift their spirits and darker accounts of nervous breakdowns. We did not, contrary to popular myth, all Keep Calm and Carry On. Suicide rates, she notes, rose slightly.

In the UK and Ireland, Samaritans can be contacted on freephone 116 123, or email jo@samaritans.org or jo@samaritans.ie. In the US, you can call or text the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline on 988, chat on 988lifeline.org, or text HOME to 741741 to connect with a crisis counselor. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is 13 11 14. Other international helplines can be found at befrienders.org

Gaby Hinsliff is a Guardian columnist

PM’s spokesperson says ‘president was wrong to diminish the role of Nato troops, including British forces’

Keir Starmer’s allies have launched a “Stop Andy Burnham” campaign to prevent the Labour mayor from returning to parliament after the resignation of a Manchester MP triggered a byelection, Pippa Crerar, Jessica Elgot and Josh Halliday report in their overnight story.

In a good analysis, Jess explains why, if Burnham does decide that he wants to return to the Commons as MP for Gorton and Denton in Manchester, he faces a colossal challenge.

‘Russia’s continued attacks on Ukraine’s energy infrastructure are deliberately depriving civilians of heat, light and basic services in the middle of harsh winter,’ an EU commissioner said

The European Commission has offered a bit more detail on the deployment of 447 emergency generators from EU reserves to Ukraine, mentioned in the earlier post (12:33).

“The generators – mobilised from rescEU strategic reserves hosted in Poland – will be distributed by the Ministry for Development of Communities and Territories of Ukraine in cooperation with the Ukrainian Red Cross to the most affected communities.

The EU will not let Russia freeze Ukraine into submission and will continue helping Ukrainians get through this winter.”

They are designed to break Ukrainian spirit. They will fail.

We won’t let Russia freeze Ukraine. We bring light and warmth where Russia sends darkness.

Unison’s Andrea Egan among several figures to speak out against any moves to rig selection for Gorton and Denton byelection

The boss of Britain’s biggest union has warned Labour to ensure a democratic process in the Gorton byelection, amid signs a “Stop Andy Burnham” campaign is under way to prevent him posing a threat to Keir Starmer.

Andrea Egan, the general secretary of Unison, who started in the job on Thursday, appeared to stand against the prospect of a stitch-up in the contest as she warned against “control-freakery” in the party.

Exclusive: victims in hiding after attacks involving physical assault, attempted arson and the use of firearms

Scotland Yard’s counter-terrorism command is investigating a series of “highly targeted” attacks on two Pakistani dissidents living in Britain which may bear the hallmarks of states using criminal proxies to silence their critics.

One person has been arrested after a series of four attacks which began on Christmas Eve. One of the attacks involved a firearm.