As Swiss glaciers melt at an ever-faster rate, new species move in and flourish, but entire ecosystems and an alpine culture can be lost

• Photographs by Nicholas JR White

From the slopes behind the village of Ernen, it is possible to see the gouge where the Fiesch glacier once tumbled towards the valley in the Bernese Alps. The curved finger of ice, rumpled like tissue, cuts between high buttresses of granite and gneiss. Now it has melted out of sight.

People here once feared the monstrous ice streams, describing them as devils, but now they dread their disappearance. Like other glaciers in the Alps and globally, the Fiesch is melting at ever-increasing rates. More than ice is lost when the giants disappear: cultures, societies and entire ecosystems are braided around the glaciers.

The Aletsch glacier viewed from Moosfluh, looking towards the Olmenhorn and Eggishorn peaks

I thought I had found someone, but my wife wants to know if he’s any good – and if he’s ever killed anyone

The quote we receive from the roofer seems surprisingly reasonable, although it’s possible that in anticipation of the quote I was simply letting my paranoia run wild. The truth is, I had no idea how much a new flat roof should, or could, cost.

But my wife wasn’t home when the roofer came round, climbed out on the roof, and said: “That’s really bad.” She didn’t hear his wholly convincing explanation of what was wrong, and what must be done to put it right. She was not impressed by my version of those explanations. And she probably hadn’t worked herself up into expecting a quote at double the price. In any case, she has reservations.

Here in metal-mad Finland, I see the 50-year-old genre is still in rude health – and helping people see the light in dark times

• Mike Watson is a media and art theorist and educator born in the UK and based in Finland

In June, I travelled to Helsinki to see Iron Maiden. I live in Finland and so know well that the country is heavy metal mad. It boasts more metal bands per capita than any other country in the world . Metal has long been the nation’s unofficial flagship cultural pursuit, with bands (called things such as Nightwish, Apocalyptica and Amorphis) acting as ambassadors where few other cultural figures have broken through abroad. But I still wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

The gig was preceded by a gathering of the “Crazy Finns” – a ragbag of Finnish Maiden fanatics who have followed the band on tour for two decades. The fan group celebrated their 20th anniversary with a concert pre-party featuring Dennis Stratton, who played on the band’s self-titled debut in 1980. As Stratton performed an acoustic version of Prowler, backed by local musician Henri Seger, the tears started to flow – predominantly from the men in the audience. At this point I realised one of the main reasons for metal’s popularity in a country where the inhabitants are famously emotionally restrained – it offers a rare outlet for collective expression. I won’t forget the sight of these macho, taciturn Finnish men united in their tears and their denims, the instantly recognisable uniform of the metal fanbase worldwide.

Mike Watson is a media and art theorist and educator based in Finland. He is the author of Hungry Ghosts in the Machine: Digital Capitalism and the Search for Self. He is co-editing a compendium of essays What’s Left of Metal? with David Burke

The oedipal thriller with Robin Wright raises the household temperature to nail-biting, while Jade Thirlwall goes solo with groove. Here’s the pick of the week’s culture, taken from the Guardian’s best-rated reviews

With his government mired in scandal, an operation to dethrone Starmer is now under way

There has been a joke going around Labour MPs over the past week about three envelopes in Soviet Russia. “Whenever you run into trouble, open them in order,” the instructions go. Envelope one says: “Blame your predecessor.” So he does – and it works. The party officials are satisfied. A year later, problems arise again. He opens envelope two. It says: “Restructure the organisation.”

He does a big reshuffle, changes some titles, and again buys himself some time. Finally, another crisis comes. He opens envelope three. It says: “Prepare three envelopes.”

Martha, 30, an analyst, meets Jack, 26, a primary school teacher

What were you hoping for?
A fun evening, a free meal, a story and the fun of appearing in the Guardian. But deep down, to meet someone that I really want to be with.

He was the young, gay, mixed-race leader labelled a ‘badass’ by Matt Damon who unexpectedly quit. He talks about the ‘likability’ of rightwing populists – and his fears for the future of politics

Leo Varadkar suggests we do the ­interview at his house in Dublin. It’s unusual for ­politicians to invite you into their home, but Ireland is famous for its hospitality. The house looks impressively humble – a tiny, ­unprepossessing terrace. A woman answers. “Hi,” I say. “Does the taoiseach live here? “No,” she says.

I start to panic. Our interview is due to start in two minutes.

Researchers say social media myths drive ‘nocebo effect’ of side-effects that are real but psychological in origin

Social media misinformation about the contraceptive pill is encouraging women to view it so negatively that many give it up, a study has found.

Researchers have identified myths spread on TikTok and other social media platforms as a key driver of users suffering side-effects that are real but psychological in origin. It is called the “nocebo effect”, the opposite of the better-known placebo effect.

An expectation at the outset that the pill will be harmful.

Low confidence in how medicines are developed.

A belief that medicines are overused and harmful.

A belief that they are sensitive to medicines.