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What I’m taking away from Netflix’s ‘Adolescence’

Published

8 months ago

April 15, 2025

Staff Writer

By Melissa Knight, Marketing Manager, Ogi

TV shows rarely have that big moment these days – that rattle of emotion – but Adolescence on Netflix has it.

It hit harder than I’d thought it would. Maybe because I still carry echoes of my own teenage years. Maybe because the world that today’s teens are growing up in feels so unrecognisable. Or maybe because it all just felt a little too real.

The show follows a 13-year-old boy caught up in something terrible – and it doesn’t take long before you stop seeing a character on a screen. You start seeing bits of someone you used to be. That awkwardness. That quiet yearning to belong to something, anything. It stirs something deep. A reminder of how fragile those years really are.

When I was thirteen, the “playground” was a real place. It was splintered wood and metal slides that got too hot in summer. It was scraped knees, whispered secrets, dares you regretted before you hit the ground. But what happened in the park stayed in the park.

Fall out with someone? It was over by the time you got home. Embarrassed yourself? You laughed it off by the next day. There was a mercy in how temporary it all was.

Now, the playgrounds have shifted. They’re glowing screens and endless scrolls. They’re everywhere – and nowhere. What happens in them doesn’t stay there. It follows. It’s screenshotted. Shared. Immortalised. The stakes feel higher, the audience wider. And the exit? Not so obvious.

It’s easy to forget how hard it is to grow up while being watched. Not just by friends and peers, but by an invisible world waiting to react. And while some corners of the internet offer comfort, others are far more insidious – especially for boys. Adolescence pulls back the curtain on that. Shows how some of these digital spaces dress up in language that sounds supportive, even healing – until you listen a little closer and hear the undercurrents of anger, of control, of something deeply warped.

And it’s subtle. A new phrase. A new tone. The way a joke lands that makes you tilt your head and wonder. The bravado that sometimes feels a little too rehearsed. These shifts in language and posture – they tell a story, if you’re listening closely.

One scene in Adolescence made that painfully clear: a boy explains the meaning behind certain emojis to baffled adults. Every child watching understood immediately. The adults had no idea.

That moment stayed with me.

Because that was it – the line in the sand. The quiet reveal that there’s a whole world of coded language, of cultural shorthand, happening in plain sight. A language that, once upon a time, you spoke fluently – and now, you don’t. Not fluently, anyway. That gap? That’s the gap we need to notice, and bridge.

Since watching, I’ve been thinking a lot more about those spaces we grew up in – how physical they were. Playgrounds where risk came in the form of a fall from the monkey bars, not a comment thread that spirals into humiliation. Community spaces where you learned about people through presence, not profile pictures. But now, the playgrounds are algorithmically curated. The games have changed. And the communities? They’re scattered across platforms, even continents – some warm and welcoming, others cold and echoing with cruelty.

I’ve found myself paying closer attention lately. Asking better questions – not to interrogate, but to understand. “What was it about that video that made it funny?” and “Do you think they really meant that, or were they just trying to go viral?”

Sometimes those questions lead somewhere. Sometimes they don’t. But the asking matters. It says: I’m here. I see you. And maybe that’s the most any of us can do – be present. Not in every scroll or click, but in the pauses in between. In the quiet moments when the noise dies down and the real stuff can surface.

Because the truth is, the risks of growing up haven’t disappeared – they’ve just changed shape. They’ve gone digital. They’ve gone quiet. And they’re far more persistent.

So, we adapt. We put up a few guardrails – not walls, just soft boundaries. Filters. Time limits. Conversations.

Not because we want to control the experience, but because we know and remember what it was like to fall. And we’d rather the landing not be so hard.

Adolescence didn’t just remind me of what it means to grow up – it reminded me how much the environment matters. That the scaffolding around a person – their playground, their peers, their virtual hideouts – shapes them. And that those scaffolds are ours to notice, to question, to repair when needed.

I didn’t expect a TV show to shake me like this one did. But I’m glad it did. Because it made it clear: we might not be able to rebuild the old playgrounds. But we can still help make the new ones safer. And maybe that’s enough.

Comment

Community gathers in Tenby to remember the fallen

Published

4 weeks ago

November 9, 2025

Tom Sinclair

TENBY residents gathered in solemn reflection at the town’s cenotaph this on Sunday (Nov 8) to mark Armistice Day and honour all those who gave their lives in service to their country.

Rain fails to dampen spirits

Despite the drizzle, a large crowd assembled at the war memorial on South Parade as the clock struck 11:00am. The Last Post was sounded, followed by two minutes’ silence observed across the town.

Civic leaders and young representatives

The Mayor of Tenby, town councillors, veterans, members of the Royal British Legion and representatives from youth groups, cadets, emergency services and local schools took part in the wreath-laying ceremony. Among them was a young boy who stepped forward to lay a poppy wreath—symbolising the next generation’s gratitude for those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

A service of unity and respect

As the names engraved on the cenotaph were read aloud, the assembled crowd stood shoulder to shoulder, remembering those from Tenby and beyond who never returned home. Local clergy led prayers, and the service was accompanied by music from the Salvation Army Band.

Following the ceremony, the parade marched through the town walls led by the Royal British Legion standard bearers, with applause from residents lining the streets.

The annual service once again showed Tenby’s deep respect for its history, its veterans and the continuing legacy of remembrance.

Lest we forget.

Photos by Gareth Davies/Herald

Comment

Take a bow, the government’s own comedy duo

Published

4 weeks ago

November 8, 2025

Staff Writer

This column is “THE ALTERNATIVE VIEW” by Mike Dello

THERE have been some terrific comedy double acts over the years – Laurel and Hardy, Abbott and Costello, Morecambe and Wise. Well, take a bow, at considerable expense, the government’s own pair: Mahmood and Lammy – the Home Secretary and Justice Secretary.

It would all be rather funny if this hapless duo hadn’t compromised the safety of the British public. The system somehow managed to accidentally release migrant sex offender Hadush Kepatu – yes, by mistake. From all accounts, this individual even tried to get back into prison, but was sent away, wandering the streets for forty-eight hours before being re-arrested.

He was then promptly deported to Ethiopia – with £500 of taxpayers’ money in his pocket. And, given we’re still bound by the European Convention on Human Rights, one suspects he may soon turn up again on a small boat, free of all checks.

Meanwhile, 49-year-old Wayne Broadhunt was murdered while walking his dog this week – reportedly by a migrant – as this scandal reaches epidemic proportions.

Starmer’s house of cards

Sir Keir Starmer’s premiership continues to unravel. Lucy Powell has defeated Bridget Phillipson in a members’ vote for the deputy leadership of the Labour Party – despite being sacked from the Cabinet by the Prime Minister only a few short weeks ago.

As BBC Political Editor Chris Mason dryly observed: “It’s a result the Prime Minister did not want.”

Then there’s Rachel Reeves, the Chancellor, now under fire over alleged rule breaches involving her personal rental affairs. Starmer is standing by her, of course – though one might think the person managing the nation’s finances should at least keep her own in order.

Conflict abroad and chaos at home

The paper-thin ceasefire in Gaza has been shattered once again, with Israel launching air strikes that killed more than a hundred civilians after the killing of an Israeli soldier by Hamas.

And across the Atlantic, Hurricane Melissa has devastated Jamaica, with winds of up to 185mph leaving a trail of destruction. In an ironic twist, some climate campaigners are finally conceding that such disasters are not becoming more frequent – as they long claimed – but more severe.

Meanwhile, Net Zero by 2030 looks increasingly like a fantasy. Wind farms aren’t delivering what was promised, and these expensive steel giants are driving energy bills through the roof. One wonders if Sir Ed Miliband, the government’s “climate chappy,” has received his knighthood yet.

True heroes among us

The word “hero” is often used loosely – but seldom has it been more deserved than in the horrific events of Saturday night, when 32-year-old Anthony Williams went on a stabbing spree aboard a passenger train between Doncaster and London.

Eleven people, including the driver, were injured – some seriously. Driver Andrew Johnston showed exceptional skill and courage in diverting the train into a platform at Huntingdon, enabling police to apprehend Williams within minutes.

Among the passengers was Nottingham Forest fan Stephen Crean, who quite literally put his body on the line to protect others, suffering grave injuries in the process. He and others on that train are the true heroes of our times – far more deserving of honours than certain MPs, lords or celebrity “captains of industry.”

Thankfully, such incidents remain rare – a small comfort when more than five million people travel safely on Britain’s railways every day.

A final word

It is worth remembering that during the 1982 Falklands conflict, Prince Andrew – as he then was – served as a Royal Navy helicopter pilot on numerous dangerous missions, including anti-surface operations and casualty evacuations. He was rightly honoured for that service.

Today, his reputation lies in ruins due to his association with Jeffrey Epstein. While King Charles was right to strip him of certain titles and privileges, his wartime honours should stand. If not, the word “hero” loses all meaning.

And finally, the BBC once again finds itself accused of manipulating footage – this time allegedly inserting false words into Donald Trump’s mouth during a Panorama documentary to suggest he incited the 2020 Capitol riot.

If true, it’s yet another reason why the broadcaster should be defunded and made to stand on its own feet, rather than forcing taxpayers to bankroll what many now see as a partisan, outdated institution.

Comment

How did we beat Nigel Farage and Reform in Caerphilly? We stood by our convictions

Published

1 month ago

October 26, 2025

Staff Writer

By Rhun ap Iorwerth, Leader of Plaid Cymru

PLAID CYMRU’S decisive victory in the Caerphilly byelection proves that Labour’s century of dominance in Wales is over. Voters now face a clear choice between two very different futures, and Caerphilly shows that it is Plaid Cymru’s bold, inclusive vision that carries momentum.

Caerphilly was one of the safest Labour seats in Wales. Many London commentators expected the seat to fall to Reform – perhaps even hoped it would. It would have fit the narrative that post-industrial communities naturally drift to the populist right. We proved them wrong. A message built on fairness, community and national purpose resonated with voters, and a comfortable majority voted for it.

Reform UK threw everything it had at this campaign. Busloads of activists came from Kent. Their anti-refugee banners and billboards made local people feel uneasy and sought to pit neighbour against neighbour. Reform thought it could surf a wave of anger and fear, but people in Caerphilly saw through their cynicism. They rejected the idea that Wales should be used as a stepping stone for Farage’s next Westminster project.

Plaid Cymru’s message of hope beat Reform’s hate. Where Reform shouted division, we talked about belonging. Where they peddled blame, we talked about community. That matters not just for us in Wales, but for progressives everywhere. The populist right can be beaten when people are offered hope and a vision of a fairer future.

The result couldn’t be more damning of Labour. Eluned Morgan and Keir Starmer’s brand of managerial politics does not speak to Welsh voters any more. Labour once claimed to be the natural party of Wales. “Natural” parties die when they stop standing for something. In Caerphilly, decades of complacency caught up with them.

People here no longer believe Labour represents their communities, their values or their ambitions. They see a party that has swapped conviction for calculation and focus-grouped slogans. The byelection result shows that Labour’s hold on Wales is gone.

Winning almost half the vote was no statistical fluke. It was the result of thousands of doorstep conversations, a campaign powered by volunteers, a message grounded in belief, and the charisma of a local champion in Lindsay Whittle, whose decades of hard graft mean he is known and loved by people here.

Conviction politics still works. Clarity and passion can defeat cynicism and drift.

Momentum is now with Plaid Cymru. As we move towards a fully proportional Senedd, the possibilities for genuine, people-led government have never been greater. Caerphilly has lit a fuse under Welsh politics, and it is burning brightly towards 2026.

Wales faces a simple choice. One path is regressive, built on resentment and division, dressed up in Reform’s slogans. The other is progressive, inclusive and confident, led by Plaid Cymru. The people of Caerphilly have already chosen, and their message will echo far beyond their constituency.

There are lessons here for every progressive movement in the UK. You don’t defeat extremism by copying its language or trimming your values to fit a poll. You defeat it by standing for something real. When Reform tried to weaponise Welsh programmes that help refugees to integrate, making Ukrainians feel unwelcome, we stood up to them. We defended what is right and stayed true to our values.

We are focusing on policies that will transform people’s lives, not just tinker at the edges. Our free-childcare plan is worth more than £30,000 in childcare costs in the first four years of a child’s life – the most ambitious in the UK. Our manifesto will be grounded in a recognition that too many in our communities have been left behind. We are determined to change that. Like Scotland, we will take real action to tackle child poverty through a new child payment. This is what bold, practical politics looks like – politics with purpose, ambition and heart.

When voters see authenticity, they respond. Former Labour voters, and many who had given up on politics, did not come to Plaid reluctantly. They came enthusiastically. They saw a movement that reflects their aspirations and speaks their language.

This result carries weight far beyond one seat. It shows that Starmer’s Labour, and Westminster politics as a whole, can no longer take Wales for granted. The old order of British politics is breaking down.

Starmer’s cautious managerialism offers no answers to the cost-of-living crisis, the climate emergency or the constitutional question. People want more than competence. They want conviction. Caerphilly shows that Wales is ready to build the government it deserves, in the country it believes in.

This was never about just one seat. It marks a shift in spirit. Caerphilly has opened a new chapter in Welsh politics. Hope has proved stronger than hate, belief has beaten cynicism.

The people of Caerphilly have shown the way. Labour’s old Wales is fading, and a new, self-assured Wales is taking its place – one led by Plaid Cymru.

— Rhun ap Iorwerth MS, Leader of Plaid Cymru, Member of the Senedd for Ynys Môn