Don’t live like everyone else! Angela Jaeger met every act going in punk, in New York and London – and had crushes on them all. Now 65, she talks us through her thrill-filled diaries

There is nothing new to discover, surely, about the birth of punk. But perhaps it depends where you look. Written between 1977 and 1981, the teenage diaries of Angela Jaeger crackle with life. Published as the book I Feel Famous, the New York and London punk scenester’s writing gives us a real-time immersion, with zero revisionism, into not only what happened and who was there, but how it felt to a musically fanatical teenage girl.

Diary entry for 9 May, 1977, about a Bryan Ferry/Talking Heads gig being sold out: “Shit, damn, piss forever!! What can you do but kick and curse cause you CAN’T GO! It shits bricks solid!!” By 27 June, she’s a dedicated anglophile, a Sex Pistols and Clash obsessive, searching for an identity and asking the big questions: “Why should we be expected to live like everyone else does? What are the reasons behind TEENAGE REVOLUTION!”

The good, the bad and the ugly about the social media platform. Plus: celebrities mark the end of the Islamic month of Ramadan. Here’s what to watch this evening

9pm, BBC Two
“This is the stupidest thing ever.” That was a common reaction to Twitter in 2006, according to the San Francisco startup’s “ragtag” founders who created it in just under two weeks. They give their input on the social media platform’s legacy in this documentary (Jack Dorsey, who stepped down as CEO and sold it to Elon Musk in 2022 is noticeably absent), along with former employees, journalists and activists. While Musk’s renamed X may be a hellscape today – and it has been hugely damaging to society – there is plenty of good to be found in its history. All the highs, lows and grey areas are laid out here, including the revelation that Oprah didn’t actually type her first tweet. Hollie Richardson

Sixth-formers discuss the hit show and what it is really like to be a young male in Britain today

• Warning: contains spoilers
• Podcast: What teenage boys really think of girls, influencers and porn

Everyone from the prime minister down seems to have a view on Adolescence , the Netflix smash about a teenage murder fuelled by social media and toxic masculinity.

But there is one voice missing from the debate: teenage boys themselves. We gathered a group of sixth-formers from Xaverian college in Manchester to get their views on the show, and find out what it is really like to be a teenage boy in Britain today.

Queen Elizabeth Hall, London
At 65, Eclair has faced down adversity, her own ego, sexism and the menopause – and always found a way to keep cheerfully telling the tales

Standup show or book tie-in? Jokes Jokes Jokes is a bit of both, a panorama of Jenny Eclair’s 65 years on Earth based on her autobiography of last year. It has only chronology to bind it together, which is fine for a book but can leave a stage show feeling – well, a bit lacking. But any deficit of focus or argument is made up by the tremendous carefree vim our host brings to her task. Jokes both good and crude are delivered with a gleeful cackle and a capering lap of (usually dis-)honour, arms aloft, from one side of the stage to the other.

She deserves to celebrate: the show traces the career of a real trouper, who’s faced down adversity, her own ego, sexism and the menopause, and always found a way to keep cheerfully telling the tales. It opens in 1960 (“just think series 4 of Call the Midwife …”), when Eclair, as she then wasn’t, was born to a mum disabled by polio and a dad who may have been a spy. From the off, she sought fame; “Jenny Eclair” is what she named the “showbiz tapeworm” burrowing away inside her. But fame – via anorexia (after being branded “too fat” at drama school) and performance poetry – was neither easily found nor easily held on to.

Research backs schemes that encourage doctors to prescribe time in cultural institutions to boost mental health and reduce loneliness

It was about six years ago that Nathalie Bondil heard of doctors prescribing outside the boundaries of traditional medicine, scribbling out orders to walk, cycle or swim, or sending their patients into nature.

As she made her way through the halls of Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, however, she was certain that its collection of Inuit art or paintings by Claude Monet or Camille Pissarro, could also be just what the doctor ordered.

He was a digital art pioneer, making himself an avatar in disturbing films. Now Ed Atkins has a new medium: the pandemic Post-it note. Ahead of a major Tate show, we meet the shapeshifting artist

When he was younger and his parents were out of the house, Ed Atkins used to sit on the landing and force himself to imagine all the ways they might die. “My thinking was that if I imagined it first, then it would be very unlikely to actually happen,” says the 42-year-old artist.

Atkins’ parents didn’t succumb to any of the ways he had invented. But during the final year of his master’s course, his father, Philip, was diagnosed with cancer and died six months later, during Atkins’ degree show, in 2009. “It’s a huge thing, obviously, losing your father,” says the artist. “And it started to feed into what I was reading and was interested in. His death, and death generally, is in all of my work.”

Actor says she is opposed to the possibility of a female 007 and that cinema should focus on telling stories of ‘extraordinary’ real female spies

Helen Mirren has said that James Bond should never be played by a woman, as the spy franchise is “born out of profound sexism”.

The future of 007 is currently up in the air, after Amazon MGM Studios struck a $1bn (£ 770m) deal for creative control over the character with Barbara Broccoli and Michael G Wilson, the British-American heirs to the film producer Albert “Cubby” Broccoli and longtime stewards of the Bond films.

Where other teen shows ramp up the sex, drugs and scandal, this Leeds-set saga about rivalries in a dance school keeps it real – so real it almost refuses to be entertaining

The implausibility of the teen drama may well be the genre’s defining feature. In the 00s, we were subjected to untold glamour and relentless wisecracking by US imports such as The OC and Gossip Girl. The UK equivalent was Skins, in which a group of Bristolian party animals managed to make practically every personal problem known to man look intimidatingly cool. More recently, we’ve had mind-blowing levels of debauchery from Euphoria , mind-blowing levels of sexual literacy and candour from Sex Education and mind-blowing levels of heartwarming niceness from Heartstopper . All of it is ludicrous in its own way.

Dreamers is different. It is realistic – jarringly so. That’s both a pro and a con for this Channel 4 drama about a group of teenage dancers living in Leeds. The series – written by Lisa Holdsworth (Waterloo Road) and Gem Copping (EastEnders), and directed by Sara Dunlop – is filmed in a meticulously naturalistic way. The camera tends to linger, documentary-style, on characters, whether they are doing something interesting or not: chatting aimlessly, walking to work, getting a glass of water. It’s very kitchen sink, not least in the sense that there are multiple shots of actual kitchen sinks. (The show’s original title was Dance School, which captures the no-frills, matter-of-fact mode far better than Dreamers.) The dialogue is sparse, underwrought and unusually true to life; the teen banter is believably awkward and sometimes people respond to questions with “I don’t know” and the conversation just sort of ends. Combined with the deluge of dancing footage – which looks brilliant and beautiful for the most part – the Dreamers aesthetic is strong and soothing: dynamic movement punctuated by shots of shabby normalcy, like a Martin Parr photograph brought to life.

After a decade away, the adventurer is off to gain more precious insights into tribal life – from eating weevil larva to taking ayahuasca. It’s still absolutely classic telly

It is, scarily, 20 years since Bruce Parry first brought Tribe to the BBC. The diffident but determined former Royal Marine visited Indigenous people in the world’s most remote places and, by living as one of them, earned a level of trust that previous documentary-makers had struggled to achieve. Parry was more patient, more respectful and more physically courageous than other white interlopers had been. He gained valuable insights into tribal life and the threats to it posed by modernity. Tribe itself was simply cracking entertainment, as involving as it was educational.

Television’s sausage machine has a way of turning the most exotic ingredients into familiar comfort food and, although it took us to the farthest corners of the planet, Tribe soon established a reliable format. Parry’s return follows the winning formula as he travels to meet the 600-strong Waimaha people, deep in the Colombian Amazon rainforest.