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Dylan and Zimbo grew up in inner city Birmingham on opposite sides of town, and since they were teenagers have been indoctrinated with the gang lifestyle.Ìý Now in their 30’s, they’re attempting to turn back the tide of gang violence with their social enterprise, .

They have appeared in a new film also calledÌý‘One Mile Away’ which is released in selected cinemas from 29th March, and will be shown on Channel 4Ìýin April.

is a songwriter who found himself ‘in residence’ at a science festival.Ìý He tells Sian and Richard how this happened.

I’ve been down memory lane this week. I was bidden to a do at Evesham in Worcestershire and the sat nav took me through Stratford on Avon, where I lived thirty five years ago. I went to college there, to study drama and A levels back in the day when things called Local Authorities gave you thingsÌý called grants, and they were two of the most vivid years of my life. Odd to be back, in the college which is much grander now than it used to be, and much more secure. I had to assert my bona fides to the nice ladies at reception and they directed me to the new theatre, bearing the name of the principal in my day, which made me feel old. Some things hadn’t changed at all. Students were scampering around in black footless tights and an encouraging sign on the drama studio door warned of the sex, violence, swearing and vomiting in the current production. I then had a little wander round the town, discovering that the nice Swiss bakery, where I used to get toast and soldiers after an all-nighter is now a MacDonald’s, and that the Royal Shakespeare Theatre has sprouted extensions. It was there I made my professional debut as Old Father Time, with the Sadlers Wells ballet touring production of Coppelia. I was fired after one night because I looked ridiculous. Of course I looked ridiculous in an old nightie and a long beard holding a scythe; I’m afraid some of the unkinder members of the corps de ballet bashed me with their lanterns as I went round the stage on a special cart. They kindly rehired me to play a wood cutter, standing at the back with my mate Fergus, and I was so excited I made my entire family come and watch. Unfortunately they couldn’t tell which one was me, a useful lesson for a fledgling performer.

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Autre temps autre moeurs, as we say on Saturday Live. On this week’s programme I return to the wreck JP Devlin made of the co-presenter’s chair in my absence to cast an ear over the following: our studio guest is top philosopher about town Alain de Botton, who follows up last year’s ‘Religion for Atheists’, which we did on the programme, with a new ‘Manifesto for Atheists’, a sort of non-religious ten commandments. Sian’s been hanging out with gang members from Brum – we’ll hear from them. And we also hear from David Haines, the only songwriter in residence at a science festival in the world

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