A BBC investigation has exposed the French and UK operations of a powerful and violent smuggling gang taking people across the English Channel in small boats.

A reporter, posing as a migrant wanting to cross, helped us gain unprecedented access to the smugglers’ notorious forest hideout in northern France – an area plagued by armed battles between rival gangs.

Secret filming at a major UK railway station also captured associates of the gang collecting cash payments to secure migrant places on illegal Channel crossings.

Two men met us on separate occasions on the busy concourse at Birmingham’s New Street Station to collect envelopes containing hundreds of pounds.

Multiple sources have described how gang leaders, who keep one step ahead of the authorities by changing mobile phone numbers and the gang’s name, subjected their henchmen and migrants to violent beatings.

We have managed to identify three men – Jabal, Aram and al-Millah – all Iraqi-Kurds, who are believed to lead the outfit, which is one of the main groups in northern France transporting people to the UK by small boat.

We have also come across other senior figures, including a man called Abdullah, whom we witnessed shepherding groups of migrants towards boats. Another gang member, Besha, who had escorted migrants in France, took a small boat to the UK himself, we learned, ending up in a migrant hostel in West Yorkshire having claimed asylum.

The findings are the culmination of months of undercover fieldwork and the creation of multiple fake identities to engage with the smugglers. We have been able to build a detailed picture of the gang’s tentacle-like structure and the ways it has successfully evaded the police.

Our investigation began in April 2024, after we witnessed French police trying to stop the gang from launching an inflatable boat into the Channel. In the chaos, five people were trampled to death onboard, including a 7-year-old girl named Sarah.

“There’s no danger,” said smuggler Abdullah last week, as he spoke to our undercover colleague and gestured towards a cluster of tents hidden deep within a forest outside the French port of Dunkirk.

“You are welcome to stay here. We’ll get a boat ready nearby and set to sea. We need to move early to avoid the police – it’s a cat and mouse game,” Abdullah continued, with the reassuring smile of an airline official at a check-in counter. “God willing, the weather will be on our side.”

The trip across the Channel would be with “a mixture of Somalis, Sudanese, Kurds and so on”, he explained, boasting about two successful launches the previous week, with 55 people on each.

“Should I bring a lifejacket?” asked our colleague, an Arabic-speaking BBC reporter, posing as a Syrian migrant and wearing a hidden camera.

“That’s really up to you,” the smuggler replied.

Criss-crossed by narrow sandy paths, the forest is beside a main road, a huge canal and a train line, some 4km (2.5 miles) from the French coast. For years, rival gangs and their customers have hidden from the French police here – the gangs’ spotters carefully guarding every possible entrance.

Deadly gun battles and stabbings are not uncommon here, particularly during the summer, as gangs settle scores and compete over the lucrative and highly competitive small-boat people-smuggling industry. The day after our encounter, we heard of another fatal shooting.

Abdullah was, we knew, an increasingly powerful and trusted figure in a gang that has emerged as one of the key players in northern France.

It is one of perhaps four gangs now managing crossings and specific launch areas themselves – rather than simply supplying passengers like many of the smaller gangs.

Abdullah was, we suspected, a close relative of a more senior figure. Well-dressed, friendly, and constantly on the phone with clients, he seemed entirely at ease in the forest.

“No worries,” he smiled, as our undercover colleague declined the offer of an overnight stay in the camp and left.

A few days later we would be following the gang and its paying clients towards the coast, as they tried to hide from the police, through the night, in a different wooded area.

Abdullah would even try to convince our reporting team that he was just another desperate person trying to reach the UK, rather than a smuggler making hundreds of thousands of pounds by risking people’s lives in the Channel.

When we first began to investigate the gang, it was known to those using its services as The Mountain (or Jabal, in Arabic). That was the word customers would use when making payments – and the word we had heard from those who had been on Sarah’s ill-fated boat.

We soon learned that Jabal was also the name of one of the gang’s leaders, all from the same area of Iraqi Kurdistan, near the city of Sulaymaniyah.

Jabal controlled logistics from Belgium and France. Another man, Aram, had spent time in Europe but now appeared to be back in Iraq, possibly more involved in drumming up new customers. The third leader, even more shadowy than the others, was known as al-Millah (The Chief in English). He appeared to take a lead on the gang’s financial operations.

In June 2024, we tracked down Jabal to a migrant reception centre in Luxembourg and confronted him on the street. He denied any involvement and, although we promptly informed the French police, quickly disappeared.

“He fled after your intervention in Luxembourg, and he changed his phone and probably fled abroad,” said Xavier Delrieu, who heads the French police’s anti-smuggling unit. “His whereabouts are now unknown. The investigation is continuing.”

Delrieu later told us there had been “one arrest [of an Iraqi] linked to Sarah’s death”, but declined to give any further information, citing operational secrecy. We do not believe Jabal has been arrested.

“As long as it is profitable, they’re going to continue,” said Delrieu.

Pascal Marconville, lead prosecutor at the regional Court of Appeal for northern France, agreed: “It’s like chess. And they have [the advantage] on the board. So, they’re always one step ahead of us.”

It is a gloomy assessment, backed up by some of our own findings during this investigation, and it shows how difficult it may be for UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer to deliver on his promise to “smash the gangs”.

The UK-French “one-in, one-out” pilot scheme, now in force, will “deliver real results”, says Mr Starmer. The deal will see some of those arriving in small boats detained and returned to France.

After Jabal’s disappearance in Luxembourg, we returned to northern France to continue our investigation. We spoke to more than a dozen people who had used the gang to reach – or to try to reach – the UK by small boat.

With their help, and by analysing other footage we had filmed the night of Sarah’s death, we identified several junior gang members – known as “small hands” or simply “guides” in Kurdish, including some who had helped launch Sarah’s boat.

We tracked the small hands on their social media accounts as they moved around Europe, often seeming to flaunt their wealth.

One middle-ranking smuggler known as Besha, we learned, had left on a small boat with his Iranian girlfriend to claim asylum in the UK. We had first begun following him, undercover, as he escorted groups of migrants from Calais to Boulogne train station, ahead of attempts to cross the Channel.

Months later, we tracked him and his girlfriend to a migrant hostel in Wakefield, West Yorkshire. We staked it out for three days but lost track of them when they left suddenly.

After Sarah’s death, and the extensive publicity it attracted, the gang changed its name from The Mountain, to Ghali Ghali. It is an unusual Arabic and Kurdish phrase that may perhaps be best translated as “Exclusive”.

For a time, we heard lots of talk of Ghali Ghali, both online and at the train and bus stations in Calais and beyond. The gang was known to be cheap and relatively reliable. Some people who had failed to cross the Channel with the group said they had been reimbursed promptly. For plenty of migrants, the gangs are seen primarily not as dangerous criminals but as entrepreneurs offering a valuable service.

Then the gang changed its name twice more – firstly to al-Millah, the nickname of the shadowy third gang leader, and then to Kaka, which means Brother but is also, we believe, another of his nicknames. More recently at least two other names have been used.

Unlike many other gangs – who advertise prominently online, particularly on TikTok, using videos of crossings and other scenes, and seek to appeal to particular ethnic groups – our gang has kept a low profile. It works with a wide range of nationalities, particularly from Iraq and Africa, and seems to rely for business on reputation and word of mouth.

But that reputation has continued to be affected by news of more deaths in the Channel. We discovered at least seven more people – after the initial five on Sarah’s boat – had died in two separate incidents while attempting to cross with the gang.

On land, disturbing evidence of the gang’s violence has also emerged.

Earlier this year, two sources told us the shadowy figure, al-Millah, was running the gang’s operations in the forest near Dunkirk. Independently, our sources both described a scene, one winter’s day, when he ordered his small hands to stand in a line, before tying one of them to a tree and beating him severely. It seems the boss suspected the man of stealing money.

Al-Millah is “the leader” a young woman told us, separately, by text. “No [migrants] meet him. They are all family… they are also theifs [sic].”

We had met the woman at a food distribution point run by local charities outside Dunkirk. She had paid the gang for a crossing, she said, but had waited for two months in the forest camp and been disturbed by the abuse she had encountered.

In her texts, she described how she feared one of al-Millah’s henchmen, whom she called “Abdulah”.

“He put a gun in [sic] my head one night. He is a very dangerous guy he slap me so many times,” she wrote – before sharing a brief video she had secretly filmed of him.

Based on that video, and on other details, we believe this is the same Abdullah our undercover reporter would go on to meet in the forests around Dunkirk.

A few days later, on what she said was her 13th attempt, the woman crossed to the UK with a different gang. She has since broken off contact with us.

It was at this point that we stepped up our investigation – trying to engage more directly with the gang and penetrate its operations.

While its leaders had repeatedly changed phone numbers, we managed to confirm that one mobile number belonging to al-Millah remained in use.

We later learned the phone had been handed over to Abdullah, who had apparently taken over the running of operations in Dunkirk.

Two weeks ago, we made a strategic visit to Brussels – a common transit point for migrants heading to the coast of northern France. Having already used multiple fake identities to contact Abdullah on his mobile, we now rang him again.

We knew it was important to be careful when making such a call. The gang would often ask customers to send a pin to confirm their location, and then to make a video call to back that up and to ensure they were genuine.

Standing on a street near Brussels’ Gare Du Midi, our Arab-speaking colleague, posing as a migrant called “Abu Ahmed”, came straight to the point.

“Hello. Brother, I’m travelling alone. I want to leave quickly, please. Do you have a departure tomorrow, the day after, or this week?”

“Tomorrow, God willing,” Abdullah replied.

“I prefer to pay in the UK if possible. My money is in a safe place there.”

This was not an unusual or suspicious request for us to make. Although some people carry cash with them, many others arrange to pay the smugglers through bank transfers or via intermediaries in a range of countries including Turkey, Germany, Belgium and the UK. The money sometimes goes directly to the gang, or it can be held “in trust” to be handed over only after a successful crossing.

We wanted to expose the gang’s links in the UK, having already tracked one member to Wakefield.

“OK. The price is €1,400,” said Abdullah – over £1,200. He seemed in a rush.

A few hours later in a text, he sent us a UK mobile phone number and indicated his own name “Abdullah” should be used as a payment reference, along with the single word “Birmingham”.

Leaving our colleague Abu Ahmed to make his own way to the French coast, we rushed to Birmingham to arrange payment. Handing money over to criminals is not something we do lightly – but in this instance we decided there was a public interest in doing so as it was the only way we could further expose the gang and its wider network.

A few hours later, having arranged for a separate BBC colleague, who also speaks Arabic, to pose as one of Abu Ahmed’s relatives in the UK and to hand over an envelope containing the cash, we staked out a meeting place in the centre of Birmingham’s New Street. Abdullah had given us a UK phone number for his contact, and we arranged to meet the man beside a giant metal sculpture of a bull.

Our colleague stood, silently, as the crowds flowed around him. We sat on benches nearby, scanning each face, waiting to see if someone would show up, or if the gang had become suspicious of our plan.

Ten minutes later, and on time, someone showed up.

“Greetings, brother.”

“It’s all here,” said our colleague, holding up the money to show to a bearded man with a glass eye. The man said his name was Bahman, and that he had been sent by his uncle.

Bahman appeared relaxed and unsuspecting as the two men briefly chatted in the middle of the busy concourse, as we secretly filmed their encounter.

“Cash is a problem. I swear, it’s a problem,” said Bahman, implying that he was not simply a “runner” sent to collect the cash, but someone with at least a passing knowledge of the broader operation. He did not explain why cash was a “problem” but took the money – an agreed payment of £900, about three-quarters of the total smugglers’ bill – and left.

Small boat passengers can deposit money for their crossing in holding accounts in the UK and elsewhere using “hawala” brokers. It is a global honour system, widely used in the Middle East, in particular, that enables the transfer of money via mutually trusted third parties.

But there is a fee payable to businesses offering such a service. The fact that Bahman did not ask for any extra money strongly suggested he was not simply an agent or middleman, but directly linked to our gang in France.

We then travelled back to Dunkirk, where our colleague Abu Ahmed was finally in a credible position to make direct contact with Abdullah in the forest.

Abdullah told us he had received confirmation from Birmingham that most of the money for a crossing had been handed over. We had deliberately left a sum unpaid to give our colleague a good reason to meet Abdullah in his camp, rather than joining the group later as it headed south along the coast to attempt a crossing.

With two undercover security guards watching his back from a distance, Abu Ahmed walked towards the forest, following the directions that Abdullah handed out, one texted detail at a time, until he was told to leave the road and clamber down a steep bank. There, he handed over another €400 (£348) to Abdullah, as agreed, before making his excuses, explaining he was staying with other friends in Calais who were also seeking to cross to England.

Two days later, our undercover reporter received confirmation from Abdullah that an attempted crossing would be made early the next morning.

“We are waiting for you near the main station in Boulogne,” Abdullah said in one of several brief voice messages.

The weather forecast in the Channel was ideal. Hardly a breath of wind. As we had often observed before, French police were already positioned outside the bus and train stations in Dunkirk, Calais and Boulogne – the main gathering points for migrants moving to the beaches. But they made no attempt to stop anyone boarding.

Instead, their aim appeared to be to gather information about numbers of people and locations, to help work out where they might later have the best chance of intercepting and destroying the inflatable boats the gangs would, inevitably, head towards.

Slashing the inflatable boats with knives before they reach the sea has become the police’s main method to prevent launches. As a result, the gangs have begun to change tactics.

Roughly half of all the small boats crossing the Channel are now so-called “taxi-boats” – a police source told us – launched with few or no passengers and in secret. The craft then cruise along the coastline to pick up people waiting in the shallows.

“Forty-three tickets,” said one of the small hands, addressing a bus driver, as he and a crowd of mostly African men and women clustered at the door, alongside our undercover colleague. It was a familiar scene, with different smuggling gangs all arranging for their customers to gather and to travel along the French coastline on public transport towards different launch spots.

Our colleague, Abu Ahmed, initially travelled with the migrants, but – for his own safety – we had agreed he would slip away from the group before nightfall, and before they got close to the beaches.

From a distance, we watched Abdullah walk across a street in Boulogne, having accompanied some of his passengers there from Dunkirk and Calais. He wore black and carried a large backpack. More people arrived, and sat or lay near him, behind some bushes at a bus stop. They waited for several hours, until early evening, before getting on a local bus heading south towards Ecault beach, an area we knew was a favourite launch spot for the gang.

By seven that evening, with our cameras in plain sight, we were openly following Abdullah and perhaps 40 other people, as they walked down a sandy path through the woods and towards the long straight expanse of Ecault beach. Many in the group hid their faces from us but made no move to discourage us from filming, as they moved, suddenly, away from the path and then sat down in a wooded area.

Only one person in the group agreed to talk to us. It was Abdullah himself.

In quiet, halting English, he claims he was an Iranian migrant called Ahmed, and that this was his second, or possibly third, attempt to cross.

Perhaps Abdullah thought that by telling journalists this story, he was building a useful public alias that he might use later – like others in the gang have done – if he ever sought to claim asylum in the UK.

Abruptly, the sound of police radios in the distance brought all conversation to an end. The group of migrants – including many Somalis, some Sudanese, and possibly some Iranian families – sat in total silence for perhaps an hour.

Eventually two French gendarmes spotted them through the undergrowth and walked, slowly, forwards. The younger officer held a canister of pepper spray in his right hand, and it seemed as if all eyes in the group were fixed on it.

“Women?” asked the older office in English.

“Babies?” he continued and walked around the group counting heads. We had heard the police tend to intervene more often when there are babies involved. The officers also checked our team’s press cards as we sat nearby.

“Fifteen women. Forty people in all,” the officer concluded, and then, affably enough, he offered a parting, “good luck”.

A few hours later, as darkness fell, one sombre-looking family left. Their child, a boy of perhaps 10 years old, was coughing heavily. A single policeman remained, leaning on a nearby tree and occasionally shining a torch towards the rest of the group, until about 23:00, when he left.

The tension quickly melted away. Grins flashed in the darkness. For all the weariness and the risk, the younger men in the group seemed buoyed by a collective sense of adventure. By 02:00, the last muttered conversations faded away. It was now a cold, silent night, broken only by snores, the occasional yelp of someone dreaming, and the hoot of a single owl.

At about 06:30 the following morning, word spread through the group. The police had found whatever boat the gang had prepared for them overnight – we had seen Abdullah disappear into the darkness for at least an hour at one point – and destroyed it.

Quietly, people stood up, gathered their lifejackets and blankets and, following Abdullah and his team, began to walk back up the path towards the closest bus stop to head back to their camps and wait for another chance to cross.

Meanwhile, we had another journey to make, and a confrontation.

We had considered seeing if we could get a reimbursement from Abdullah by claiming that our colleague, Abu Ahmed, had changed his mind about the crossing. Instead, we decided it was more important to try to challenge the gang’s UK-based associates. And so, later that same day, our undercover reporter called Abdullah one more time.

Abu Ahmed said his two friends in Calais also wanted to cross, and that he had left Abdullah’s group on the bus because he preferred to travel with his friends. Could they pay in Birmingham too? Just like the last time?

The next day, we were back at New Street Station again. It was a near identical repeat of our earlier visit there, except this time, when a different unnamed man – also young, and bearded – arrived beside the bull sculpture to collect yet more cash for the smuggling gang, we broke cover and walked straight up to him, our cameras rolling.

“We’re from BBC News. We know you’re linked to a people smuggling gang…”

The man looked around, momentarily confused, his eyes darting. Then he turned and broke into a frantic sprint, heading to the station exit and across the street beyond before vanishing into the city.

A few days later, we called Abdullah and by phone and asked him about his smuggling activities. At first, he denied any wrongdoing. Then offered us money. Then he said he needed to call his boss. Then he hung up.

Rescuers are looking for dozens of people who are feared to be trapped after a massive cloudburst triggered heavy rains and flash floods in the northern Indian state of Uttarakhand.

Teams, including army and paramilitaries, have reached Dharali village in Uttarkashi district, which is believed to have borne the brunt of the floods.

Dramatic videos of the disaster show a giant wave of water gushing through the area, crumpling buildings in its path. A tourist spot, Dharali is populated with hotels, resorts and restaurants.

A cloudburst is an extreme, sudden downpour of rain over a small area in a short period of time, often leading to flash floods.

It took place at around 13:30 India time (08:00 GMT) when a large amount of water came down, swelling the Kheerganga river and sending tonnes of muddy waters gushing downwards on the hilly terrain, covering roads, buildings and shops in Dharali.

Eyewitnesses from a nearby village who shot the dramatic footage of the muddy water coursing through the streets could be heard shrieking, blowing whistles and shouting “run, run”, but said the sudden surge did not give people the chance to get away.

They said they believed many people could be trapped under the debris.

The ancient Kalpkedar temple is also under the slush and is believed to have been damaged, they added.

The sludge from Kheerganga has blocked a part of the region’s main river Bhagirathi [which becomes India’s holiest river Ganges once it travels downstream] and created an artificial lake, submerging vast tracts of land, including a government helipad.

Concern is growing that if this water is not drained out quickly, it can pose a serious threat to towns and villages downstream.

Army personnel who have now arrived at the location are making announcements asking people to stay away from the water.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi has offered his “condolences to the people affected by the tragedy” in a post on social media site X.

“I pray for the well-being of all the victims… Relief and rescue teams are engaged in every possible effort. No stone is being left unturned in providing assistance to the people,” he wrote.

Earlier, Prashant Arya, the senior-most official of Uttarkashi, said communication had been erratic because of poor connectivity in the area.

“As it’s a populated area with lots of restaurants and hotels, we’ve dispatched rescue teams to the site,” he added.

Dharali is located 2km (1.24 miles) from Harsil, which is a popular tourist destination and also has a huge Indian army base. A camp of the paramilitary Indo-Tibetan Border Police (ITBP) is also located near the area.

Personnel from the two forces have reached the site of the disaster and officials said they were assessing the situation.

But rescue is expected to be slow because the area is continuing to receive heavy rains.

Some of the injured are receiving treatment at the army camp in Harsil, reports say.

Sometimes I’ll be walking around a supermarket, and a shopper will approach me in the aisle. “I hosted a barbecue on Saturday and you told me it was going to rain,” they will say. “And it didn’t. Why did you get it wrong?”.

Or the opposite: they planned for a day of sunshine, only to be disappointed by grey skies. Or a parent might ask me in March what the weather might be like for their son’s wedding – in September.

Those people are always delightfully friendly, and the conversations are part of what makes presenting the weather – which I’ve been doing for the last three decades – such a joy.

But they also shed light on a strange fact.

Over my career, forecasting has improved almost beyond recognition. We can now predict the weather with much higher accuracy, and in more granular detail, than when I began presenting in the mid 1990s.

Liz Bentley, a professor of meteorology at Reading University and chief executive of the Royal Meteorological Society, says that a one-day forecast is correct over 90% of the time.

But despite those strides, there are still gaps in public trust.

When YouGov asked British adults last summer whether they trusted the weather forecast, a substantial minority – 37% – said they didn’t trust it “very much” or “at all.” (Reassuringly, 61% said they did trust forecasters like me.)

Jokes about the forecast are widespread. The 2012 Olympics opening ceremony included a clip of the moment from 1987, when the weather forecaster Michael Fish told viewers not to worry because there wouldn’t be a hurricane – only for a storm to hit hours later.

(As it happens, Michael was correct: hurricane-strength winds did strike southeast England that night, but it wasn’t technically a hurricane.) Still, the incident became a byword for forecaster error.

So why, with our wealth of knowledge and our powerful forecasting technology, do some people still perceive the weather as incorrect? And do we really get it wrong or is something more complicated at play around how we share forecasts?

Part of the challenge is around expectations, which have risen in our world of round-the-clock access to information.

We can tweak the temperature of our fridge or identify a problem in our car from our smartphones in a fraction of a second. So why can’t we find out whether it’s going to rain on our street at 2pm on Sunday with 100% accuracy – surely, an easier feat?

Another part of the challenge is how that wealth of information is boiled down and communicated.

Meteorology produces an overwhelming amount of data; it’s difficult to condense it into a snappy, TV or digital app-friendly prediction. It means that even when we are technically correct, some viewers might still end up confused.

But the answer also lies in the tricky nature of meteorology.

It’s a delicate science, and any tiny inaccuracy in the data can skew things – or knock it out of shape.

Every day, across the British Isles, forecasters collect “observations” (or data) on things like temperature and wind speed, through a network of more than 200 “weather stations” run by the Met Office. The data is then plugged into mathematical models run by powerful machines, or “supercomputers”.

Earlier this year the Met Office unveiled a new supercomputer, switching for the first time from a physical machine to cloud-based software.

The new device will deliver “better forecasts and help scientists advance important climate research around the world”, the Met Office says.

But as with any science, there are weaknesses.

The atmosphere is known as a “chaotic system”, meaning that a slight error – even as small as 0.01C – in the initial observations can produce a drastically different result.

“It’s called Chaos Theory,” explains Prof Bentley. “Or the Butterfly Effect. The analogy is that if a butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil, it could have an impact on the atmosphere across northern Europe, six days later.”

There’s also a particular challenge when predicting the weather over small geographic areas.

In the 1990s, a weather event needed to be larger than about 100 miles (161km) before it could be fully observed – now, the UK-wide weather model used by the Met Office can map weather events as small as 2 miles (3km), Prof Bentley says.

But zooming in beyond that size remains difficult, so predicting weather like heavy fog – which might affect only a 1km space – is particularly tricky.

And even with huge improvements in the science, technology glitches still happen – though these are mercifully rare.

Last autumn, the BBC Weather website briefly showed impossibly fast winds of over 13,000mph in London, as well as temperatures of 404C in Nottingham.

The BBC apologised for “an issue with some of the weather data from our forecast provider”.

The biggest challenge of my job is synthesising this data so it fits into a tight television segment.

“There’s no other science as tested, checked and judged by the general public,” says Scott Hosking, a director of environmental forecasting at the Alan Turing Institute.

“It’s as complex as nuclear fusion physics, but most of us don’t experience that day to day, and so we don’t have to come up with a way to communicate that science to the public.”

It’s also easy to forget that forecasting is just that – predicting.

Over the years, we’ve gotten a lot better at this subtle art of “communicating uncertainty”. Meteorologists now produce “ensemble forecasts”, where they might run 50 different models, all with slight variations.

If all of those scenarios point to a similar outcome, meteorologists can be confident they’ve got it right. If they produce different outcomes, then their confidence is much lower.

This is why, on a weather app, you might see a 10% chance of rain in your area.

Forecasters often think about this tricky issue of communication; how the weather can be more easily explained.

Last week, the BBC announced a new partnership with the Met Office. It came eight years after they officially ended their relationship (since 2018, the Dutch MeteoGroup has provided the BBC’s forecasts).

The new deal aims to combine expertise of the two organisations and “turn science into stories,” explained Tim Davie, the BBC’s director-general.

Certainly, some think more creativity is needed in communicating the weather. Dr Hosking of the Alan Turing Institute suggests forecasters could move away from giving a percentage chance of rain, and instead use the “storyline approach”.

In this style, forecasters could say things like, “What we’re seeing now is similar to what we saw at a certain event a few years ago’ – something within memory.”

This is partly why the Met Office, in 2015, decided to name storms.

But Prof Bentley argues that numbers can be powerful – and perhaps it’s better to arm consumers with the hard data they need.

In the US, she says, the weather forecast has percentages “everywhere”; American consumers are told of everything from chance of rain, to the likely spread in temperature.

“The public are comfortable [with it],” she says. “Because they’ve had that information given to them so often, they kind of get it.”

Weather forecasting could soon change dramatically with the advent of Artificial Intelligence (AI). The use of machine learning to predict the weather has developed rapidly in recent months.

It’s often said that forecasters have gained 24 hours of accuracy with each passing decade, meaning the Met Office can now release a weather warning seven days in advance.

But AI models designed by Google DeepMind are already correctly predicting the weather 15 days in advance, Dr Hosking says.

Earlier this year, a team of researchers at Cambridge University released a fully AI-driven weather programme called Aardvark Weather. The results were written in the Nature journal.

Whilst traditional forecasting requires hours of use on a powerful supercomputer, researchers say, Aardvark can be deployed on a desktop computer in minutes. They claim this uses “thousands of times” less computing power, and that it can predict the weather in more granular detail.

They also claim it will improve forecasts in west Africa and other poor regions (the best traditional forecasting models are mostly designed for Europe and the United States).

“It could be transformational; it’s super exciting,” says Richard Turner, professor of machine learning at Cambridge University, who is one of the designers of the model.

But Prof Bentley identifies a weakness in AI-driven weather models: they are fed with reams of historic data, and trained to spot patterns – which in her view makes it very difficult to predict events that haven’t happened yet.

“With climate change, we’re going to see new records,” she says. “We may see 41C in the UK. But if AI is always looking backwards, it will never see 41 because we’ve not had it yet.”

Prof Turner accepts that this is a challenge with AI models like his and says his team is working on remedies.

In the future, analysts think, forecasts will go into more depth. Rather than just predicting rain, the forecast will increasingly tell you what effect that rain will have – on your travel, or on your garden plans.

Prof Bentley calls this the “so what” factor. “Do you put something on [a weather app] that says, ‘If you’re planning a barbecue, then you might want to do it at lunchtime because the chances are you’re going to get washed out in the afternoon’?”

This chimes with a trend I’ve noticed from my own career: a growing interest in understanding the science behind the weather.

Viewers are no longer just interested in knowing whether there’ll be a heatwave; they want to know why.

That’s the reason we publish more content explaining the physics of the aurora borealis, or why climate change is leading to bigger hailstones.

As for AI, it certainly could improve accuracy – but there’s a risk, also, that viewers become deluged by information. Dr Hosking says that because AI is more nimble and can tweak weather models more quickly, users will soon have access to frequently-changing forecasts. They may also have “much more localised” information, he says (perhaps giving data not just on your town, but on your back garden, other analysts predict).

This could lead to an overwhelming amount of data for those using the app, gluing users to their smartphones. And in that world, it will become even more important for human forecasters to communicate the weather in a clear, understandable way.

But there are upsides too – not least the prospect of much longer-term, more accurate forecasts.

Perhaps one day, when a mother asks me to predict weather at her son’s wedding six months from now, I might be able to give a slightly better answer.

A Chinese fighter jet plane crashes in the waters off Taiwan’s coast, prompting Chinese warships to blockade the island for a “search and rescue”.

Taiwanese soldiers manning Dadan Island, a rocky outcrop mere kilometres from China’s coast, begin vanishing mysteriously.

Then one night, a fishing boat lands on Dadan. A signal flare arcs into the inky sky – and illuminates Chinese soldiers who have spilled out of the boat and amassed on the beach.

This is the key scenario in Zero Day Attack, a new Taiwanese television show about a fictional Chinese military invasion. Beijing has long viewed self-ruled Taiwan as part of its territory, vowing to “reunify” with it some day while not ruling out the use of force.

The series, which aired its first episode over the weekend, was partially funded by the Taiwanese government, which hopes to raise awareness about the threat China poses.

But the show has also landed at a highly divisive moment in Taiwan and attracted criticism of fear-mongering.

Zero Day Attack focuses on how various parts of Taiwanese society grapple with the invasion, from the president to rural villagers.

The anthology series features several scenarios on how an invasion could unfold, provided by defence experts consulted by the production team.

These include the disruption of Taiwan’s communication lines; Chinese disinformation campaigns; “fifth column” supporters of China stirring up unrest; and military officials turned collaborators who conspire against Taiwan.

Showrunner Chen Hsin-mei told the BBC she wanted to make the series to “warn the Taiwanese people that the war is really coming,” citing China’s rising use of “disinformation campaigns and grey zone warfare to put our society in chaos and make us confused about our identity”.

Zero Day Attack’s message echoes the rhetoric of the ruling Democratic Progressive Party (DPP)-led government and its leader President William Lai, who have warned about China’s threat and preached the need to raise the island’s defences.

Taiwan’s culture ministry has partially funded Zero Day Attack, while the military provided support for filming and production. Chunghwa Telecoms, Taiwan’s largest telecommunications company in which the government has a minority stake, also contributed funding.

Other private investors include billionaire Robert Tsao, a well-known supporter of Taiwanese independence who has funded civil defence efforts.

Ms Chen told the BBC that at no point did the authorities try to influence the show. She also said she was not a member of the DPP or any political party.

But even before a single episode was broadcast, Zero Day Attack has become a political lightning rod, given the charged topic.

A 17-minute trailer posted online last year by the production team swiftly racked up hundreds of thousands of views and comments.

While some praised it for its message, others criticised it for sowing anxiety and discord with China.

This debate has intensified with the series premiere, which was the most-watched show on several platforms on Saturday, according to the production company.

In recent days Wang Hung-wei, a prominent lawmaker from the opposition Kuomintang party, criticised Zero Day Attack as “selling dried mangoes”, a Taiwanese euphemism that means stoking unnecessary fear about the destruction of one’s country.

Pointing to the government’s funding of the show, Ms Wang said the DPP was “using the state apparatus to achieve its political goals”.

A commentary by Wang Kunyi of the Taiwan International Strategic Study Society accused the show of pushing Taiwan independence “so that Taiwan becomes a place that never knows peace”.

He added that it was evidence of Lai’s government “once again using all kinds of channels to play the ‘anti-Communist card’ and stir up anxiety of war”.

The DPP and Lai are often accused by their critics, including the opposition and China, as pushing for Taiwan’s independence. Any formal declaration as such would be considered as an act of war by Beijing.

While Lai has in the past described himself as a “pragmatic worker for Taiwan’s independence”, he has also insisted Taiwan has no need to formally declare independence because it is already a sovereign nation.

Zero Day Attack has also garnered positive reviews. One published by the public broadcaster PTS said it “expresses the worries and anxieties of Taiwanese from various political camps in a highly realistic and reasonable way”.

“It’s a good watch,” said one commenter on Zero Day Attack’s Facebook page. “The Taiwanese people can relate to it as it reflects our current situation, the Chinese Communist Party must be repulsed as their tactics have been exposed.”

Some have praised the first episode, which depicts the invasion quietly beginning amid a contentious presidential election marked by violence and political fighting.

They were struck by how uncannily that episode reflected the current fractious mood in Taiwanese politics. Last month the island held a controversial failed recall vote of Kuomintang lawmakers accused of being too friendly with China. Another round will take place later this month.

This has led to questions about the show’s timing and if it was meant to influence the recall votes. Ms Chen told the BBC that the show’s production had begun long before the recall movement started.

The discussion around the show goes to the heart of one of Taiwan’s most existential questions: how real is the threat of a Chinese invasion?

Taiwan has had its own government since the end of the Chinese Civil War in 1949. In the following decades, the island saw largely peaceful relations and stronger economic ties with China.

Polls show that most Taiwanese do not believe Beijing will attack imminently, and prefer the “status quo” in Taiwan’s relationship with China, which means neither unifying with Beijing nor formally declaring independence.

But the question of a Chinese invasion has become sharper and more political in recent years.

Chinese grey zone warfare has spiked, raising fears that Chinese warplanes and ships repeatedly entering Taiwan’s airspace and waters could trigger a conflict.

The US warned this year that China poses an “imminent threat” to Taiwan. American officials have repeatedly claimed that Chinese President Xi Jinping is building up his military to be capable of invading Taiwan by 2027.

Beijing has never confirmed this date. But it is a warning that Lai takes seriously.

He has pledged to increase Taiwan’s military spending, his government has carried out reforms in the army, and last month Taiwan staged its largest and longest ever Han Kuang drills aimed at defending against a possible Chinese attack.

Lai has stressed that these efforts are aimed at protecting Taiwan and not to seek war. His political opponents however say he is antagonising Beijing which reviles Lai as a “separatist”, and that he is leading Taiwan towards greater conflict with China.

Beijing has repeatedly emphasised that it seeks “peaceful reunification” with Taiwan. It has dismissed any talk of a Chinese invasion as a pretext manufactured by those in favour of Taiwan independence to drum up support.

Zero Day Attack has been seen as one such provocation. Last week, Chinese defence ministry spokesman Zhang Xiaogang accused the DPP government of using the show to “peddle anxieties and attempting to provoke war”.

He said Zero Day Attack was “plunging Taiwan into the flames of war and using the Taiwan people as cannon fodder for ‘Taiwan independence’.

Ms Chen however insisted that her show is “not talking bad about China or depicting it as evil”.

“We are talking about war, and how Taiwanese people struggle and respond to it. And that’s because the terror of war has never stopped, all over the world.”

Bangladesh will hold its first elections since protests toppled its former prime minister next February, the country’s interim leader said on the anniversary of her overthrow.

Muhammad Yunus made the announcement at the end of a day of celebrations for what some have called the country’s “second liberation”.

Sheikh Hasina fled to India on 5 August last year, following weeks of student-led protests, bringing an end to 15 years of increasingly authoritarian rule.

Nobel laureate Yunus was brought in to head a caretaker government days later, promising reforms which some say he has struggled to deliver amid continuing political turmoil and a struggle to maintain law and order.

Among the issues dividing the country’s politicians has been the date of the election. Yunus initially suggested June 2026 as a potential date.

However, representatives of the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), as well as the Islamist Jamaat-e-Islami party and the student-led National Citizen Party (NCP), all joined Yunus on stage in the capital Dhaka on Tuesday.

Later, Yunus said he would write to the Election Commission to request the vote be held “before Ramadan in February 2026”.

“For many years, none of us have been able to vote,” the 85-year-old said in a televised broadcast. “This time, we will all vote. No one will be left out. Let us all be able to say, ‘I cast my vote to set the country on the path to building a new Bangladesh’.”

Tuesday also saw Yunus reiterate promises on widespread reform, reading out the “July Declaration”, which seeks to recognise the student-led protests which toppled Hasina in the constitution.

Hasina’s time in office was marked by widespread allegations of human rights violations and the murder and jailing of political rivals. Members of the Awami League government ruthlessly cracked down on dissent. The BBC has spoken to numerous people who were “disappeared” into a network of secret jails across the country.

But it was the student-led protest against a civil service jobs quota system which escalated into calls for the government to stand aside in July and August 2024 that eventually prompted Hasina to flee.

The government collapsed, and the Awami League has since been banned. Analysts note hundreds of Awami League supporters have been detained without trial over the last 12 months.

As part of the declaration read on Tuesday, those who were killed in the uprising will be recognised as “national heroes”, Yunus said.

The document – which also promises a democratic state that would uphold the rule of law and moral values, as well as a justice process for those who engaged in violence during Hasina’s rule – is seen by advocates as the basis of institutional reform, although critics say it is largely symbolic and without power.

Meanwhile, in an open letter to Bangladesh’s citizens on Monday, Hasina argued she had not actually stood aside, describing the events of 2024 as a “coup”.

“Despite claims to the contrary, I never resigned from my duties as your prime minister,” she wrote.

“I believe in you. I believe in Bangladesh. And I believe that our best days are yet to come.”

Hasina is currently on trial in absentia in Bangladesh, having refused to return to face charges which amount to crimes against humanity, related to the deadly crackdown on protesters which left hundreds dead. She denies the charges.

Dozens of Texas Democrats have secretly left the state in a dramatic effort to stop Republicans from holding a vote that could determine the balance of power in the US Congress.

Republican Governor Greg Abbot has issued orders that they be arrested on sight – and fined $500 a day. He has also threatened to expel them from office.

The Democrats left because at least two-thirds of the 150-member legislative body must be present to proceed with a vote on re-drawing Texas’s electoral map. The plan would create five more Republican-leaning seats in the US House of Representatives.

This high stakes battle may seem both bizarre and confusing – but it is one that could spread to other states in advance of next year’s national midterm elections. At its heart, it’s a bare-knuckle fight over political power, who can wield it most effectively and who can keep it.

The US House of Representatives is made up of 435 legislators who are elected every two years. They represent districts with boundaries determined in processes set by their state governments.

Who draws the lines and how can go a long way in shaping the ideological tilt of the district and the likelihood that it elects a Democrat or a Republican.

At the moment, the House rests on a knife edge with 219 Republicans and 212 Democrats. There are four vacancies likely to be filled by three Democrats and one Republican in special elections later this year.

It wouldn’t take much of a shift in the political winds for Democrats to take back control of the House of Representatives in next year’s midterm elections. And the party that controls the lower chamber of Congress has powers that extend far beyond simply setting the legislative agenda for the next two years, as important as that may be.

House leaders can launch sweeping investigations of presidential actions, as Democrats did in the second half of Donald Trump’s first term and Republicans did in Joe Biden’s final two years. They can also dig in on policy issues and trigger government shutdowns. They can even vote to impeach a president, as Democrats did in December 2019 and Republicans contemplated during Biden’s presidency.

Trump appears focused on taking steps to improve his odds of avoiding a similar fate in his second term. He is reportedly fixated on the midterm races and encouraging Texas lawmakers to draw new congressional maps that could increase the likelihood of Republicans winning more House seats from there.

District lines are typically redrawn every 10 years, after a national census, to reflect shifts in the population within and between states. The most recent regularly scheduled redistricting took place in 2021.

In some states, the process is set by independent commissions but in others the state legislatures are responsible for line-drawing – and the results can frequently be crafted by the party in power to give their side a distinct advantage.

In North Carolina, for instance, Republican-drawn lines gave their party 10 of the state’s 14 House seats in last year’s national elections even though Trump only won the state by a slim margin.

Democrats in Illinois hold 14 of the state’s 17 House seats, while former Vice-President Kamala Harris won the state with 54%. If Trump has his way, and the maps lead to a five-seat gain next year, Republicans would control 30 of the state’s 38 seats. Last year, he won Texas with 56%.

The Republican push in Texas has leaders in Democratic-controlled states calling for a response, which could set off a redistricting “arms race” that spreads across the country.

California Governor Gavin Newsom, for example, has asked legislators in his state, where Democrats control 43 of the 52 seats, to find ways to increase their advantage. Governors Kathy Hochul in New York and JB Pritzker in Illinois have issued similar calls.

“Everything’s on the table,” Pritzker wrote in a post on social media. “We’ve got to do everything we can to stand up and fight back – we’re not sitting around and complaining from the sidelines when we have the ability to stop them.”

• Texas Republicans vote to arrest Democrats blocking redistricting
• Democrats flee Texas to block Republican redistricting map

Grassroots Democrats, many of whom have been frustrated by the inability of their party’s national political leaders to block the Trump administration’s policy agenda, may welcome such confrontational language. States like California and New York have laws that mandate congressional districts be drawn by a bipartisan commission to create constituencies that are compact and fair.

Such efforts were the result of a push to remove political considerations from the redistricting process, but now some Democrats view those moves as unilateral disarmament that gave Republicans an advantage in the fight for a House majority.

“I’m tired of fighting this fight with my hand tied behind my back,” Hochul told reporters at the New York Capitol in Albany on Monday. “With all due respect to the good government groups, politics is a political process.”

She said the “playing field” has changed dramatically during Trump’s second term and Democrats need to adjust.

Democrats may not have the final say, however. Republicans are already looking beyond Texas for more places to pick up seats. Vice-President JD Vance is reported to be considering a trip to Indiana later this week to push for new district lines in that state. Florida Governor Ron DeSantis recently said his Republican-dominated state may undertake a similar process.

Despite its explicit political designs, all of this is fair game under the US Constitution – at least the way a narrow majority of the US Supreme Court interpreted it in a landmark 2019 case.

Partisan “gerrymandering”, as the process is sometimes called, has a long tradition in US politics – one that frequently creates oddly shaped constituencies that stretch for miles to include, or exclude, voters based on their political affiliations, all with the goal of giving one party an electoral majority.

The Republican move in Texas isn’t even without precedent. In 2003, Republican leaders redrew their congressional maps to boost their electoral advantage.

The state’s Democrats even responded in a similar way – leaving the state to delay the legislative proceedings. The redistricting ultimately passed after enough Democrats returned.

There is a risk in all of this, even for the party doing the line-drawing. While the goal is to maximise the number of seats where victory is probable, in an election where one side outperforms expectations even seemingly safe seats can flip sides.

Texas, and other redistricting states, could create an electoral map that does not survive a political deluge, leading to otherwise avoidable losses at the ballot box.

In a close election, however, every seat counts. And if next year’s midterm elections continue the recent trend of narrowly decided political battles, what happens in state legislatures over the next few months could have dramatic political consequences in Washington DC – and, consequently, across America.

Follow the twists and turns of Trump’s second term with North America correspondent Anthony Zurcher’s weekly US Politics Unspun newsletter. Readers in the UK can sign up here. Those outside the UK can sign up here.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is to propose fully reoccupying the Gaza Strip when he meets his security cabinet, Israeli media say.

“The die has been cast. We’re going for the full conquest of the Gaza Strip – and defeating Hamas,” local journalists quote a senior official as saying.

Responding to reports that the army chief and other military leaders oppose the plan, the unnamed official said: “If that doesn’t work for the chief of staff, he should resign.”

The families of hostages fear such plans could endanger their loved ones, with 20 out of 50 believed to be alive in Gaza, while polls suggest three in four Israelis instead favour a ceasefire deal to return them.

Many of Israel’s close allies would also condemn such a move as they push for an end to the war and action to alleviate a humanitarian crisis.

Within Israel, hundreds of retired Israeli security officials, including former heads of intelligence agencies, issued a joint letter to US President Donald Trump on Monday, calling for him to pressure Netanyahu to end the war.

One of the signatories, ex-domestic intelligence agency chief Ami Ayalon, told the BBC that further military action would be futile.

“From the military point of view, [Hamas] is totally destroyed. On the other hand, as an ideology it is getting more and more power among the Palestinian people, within the Arab street around us, and also in the world of Islam.

“So the only way to defeat Hamas’s ideology is to present a better future.”

The latest developments come after indirect talks with Hamas on a ceasefire and hostage deal broke down and Palestinian armed groups released three videos of two Israeli hostages looking weak and emaciated.

The footage of Rom Blaslavski and Evyatar David, both kidnapped from the Nova music festival on 7 October 2023, has shocked and appalled Israelis. David is shown digging what he says is his own grave in an underground tunnel.

There has been some speculation that the latest media announcements are a pressure tactic to try to force Hamas into a new deal.

Israel’s military says it already has operational control of 75% of Gaza. But under the proposed plan it would occupy the entire territory – moving into areas where more than two million Palestinians are now concentrated.

It is unclear what that would mean for civilians and for the operations of the UN and other aid groups. About 90% of Gaza’s 2.1 million people have been displaced, some repeatedly, and are living in overcrowded and dire conditions. Humanitarian groups and UN officials say many are starving, accusing Israel of impeding the distribution of crucial aid.

Israel meanwhile says it will allow local businesspeople in Gaza to restart entry of some goods as part of efforts to improve conditions there. Approved items include baby food, fruit and vegetables and hygiene products. Private imports were previously stopped because of claims that Hamas was benefitting.

The Israeli military has previously held back from taking over some areas of Gaza, including central parts, because of an assumption that there are living hostages held there. Last year, six Israeli hostages were executed by their captors after ground forces moved in.

There has not been a formal response but officials from the Palestinian Authority, which governs parts of the occupied West Bank, denounced the Israeli proposal, calling on the international community to intervene to prevent any new military occupation.

Palestinians point out that far-right Israeli ministers have been openly advocating for the full occupation and annexation of Gaza and ultimately want to build new Jewish settlements there.

In 2005, Israel dismantled settlements in the Gaza Strip and withdrew its forces from there.

But alongside Egypt, it maintained a tight control of access to the territory.

The new occupation idea comes amid growing international moves to revive the two-state solution – the long-time international formula to resolve the decades-old Israel-Palestinian conflict. It envisages an independent Palestinian state being created alongside Israel in the West Bank and Gaza Strip with East Jerusalem as its capital.

Last week, the UK and Canada joined France in announcing conditional plans for recognising a Palestinian state.

The Israeli PM is now expected to meet with key ministers and military leaders to decide next steps in Gaza. Israeli army radio says they are due to discuss initial army plans to surround the central refugee camps and carry out air strikes and ground raids.

Netanyahu said he would convene a full security cabinet meeting this week.

Israeli media commentators have voiced scepticism and drawn attention to the practical military, political and diplomatic challenges. Writing in the Yedioth Ahronoth newspaper, Nahum Barnea says: “Netanyahu has never taken a gamble on this scale before.”

He notes that the Israeli PM has repeated his vow to achieve all of his war goals.

“But after 22 months of bloody fighting, it is hard to take those kinds of promises seriously. It seems that Netanyahu has just one objective in the war in Gaza, to prolong the war.”

Israel launched its military offensive in Gaza in response to Hamas’s attack on southern Israel on 7 October 2023, in which about 1,200 people were killed and 251 others taken to Gaza as hostages.

At least 61,020 Palestinians have been killed by Israeli forces in Gaza since then, the Hamas-run health ministry says.