Corrie's Janice and Leanne Battersby star in Superman promo
With James Gunn's highly anticipated film coming to cinemas soon, the cast are currently on a promotional tour, and have now used a British staple to promote their London visit.
Coronation Street's Janice and Leanne Battersby, no less.
A user posted on X, formerly known as Twitter: "Janice and Leanne Battersby being used in promo for the new Superman film is causing my brain to malfunction".
Janice and Leanne Battersby being used in promo for the new Superman film is causing my brain to malfunction https://t.co/MO7FaH4tKR
It was quoting a separate post from Warner Brothers, announcing that the Superman cast 'are on their way to London...Yes, London!'
People in the comments were quick to share their enjoyment at the soap reference.
One said: "I hope Vicki Entwistle and Jane Danson get royalties x".
Another commented: "#Superman referencing the UK soap Coronation Street was not on my Bingo Card. Bravo to the marketing team, you all need a raise!"
Someone else replied: "Never thought I'd see them referencing this coronation street moment".
Whilst another said: "Supernation street".
Recommended reading:
A new Superman mural appeared in the West End ahead of the new blockbuster's release next week.
The mural allows fans to pose like Clark Kent and has been painted by the team behind the film, Warner Bros., as part of the promotion for the James Gunn-directed flick.
It's the second mural to appear across the city, following one that was spotted at Queens Park Boating Shed in the Southside last week.
This mural states 'the summer of Superman begins' while offering fans a chance to pose like the famous superhero.
Superman will be released in the UK on July 11, 2025, by Warner Bros. Pictures.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Metro
an hour ago
- Metro
‘Total mistake' - Wimbledon urged to scrap iconic rule after 62 years
Billie Jean King has urged Wimbledon to scrap its strict dress code which forces players to wear all-white at the All England Club. Wimbledon's strict dress code has caused much controversy down the years, with tennis icon Andre Agassi boycotting the tournament for three years in a row because he was not allowed to wear whatever he wanted. Roger Federer, an eight-time Wimbledon, was reprimanded in 2013 for wearing trainers with orange soles and asked to change his footwear for his next match. Wimbledon's dress code has been in place since 1963 but dates back to the 19th century and the first edition of the tournament in 1877. White was chosen for a number of aesthetic and practical reasons, with white clothing reflecting light better and therefore retaining less heat. But it also has a history of elitism as white clothing was worn in social tennis events to show households had the means to keep their uniforms clean. King is less concerned about those connotations and more with the practicality for viewers watching Wimbledon on TV screens at home. Describing the dress code as a 'total mistake', she told the Daily Telegraph: 'There's a match that comes on, you sit down, and you look – let's say it's television – who's who? 'Tennis people say: 'Well, the mark is next to their name' [to indicate who is serving]. I shouldn't have to look at a mark, I shouldn't have to look at anything. I should know [who's who]. My sport drives me nuts. 'They shouldn't have the same uniforms on. They both have white on. You can change tradition.' King, who won a staggering 28 Grand Slam titles across singles and doubles, even suggested names and numbers added to tennis player's shirt, like in football. 'I'd have merch with their names on the back so they'd make money, the tournament makes money, everybody makes money,' the 81-year-old American added. 'We're losing out on millions and millions because of that. Numbers are really important! 'Kids love numbers and they can retire numbers – like a Federer. It's so obvious. Take what other sports are doing and what people like from other sports.' In 2023, Wimbledon allowed female players to wear coloured shorts under white tennis skirts to reduce fears around their menstrual cycles. 'When Wimbledon announced that about the under-shorts I was so happy because it makes such a big difference,' former British number one Heather Watson said. 'I speak openly about my period and being on my period. I don't think it's a taboo subject. I would love for people to talk about it more, especially women in sport. 'So, when I heard this I was really happy because last year I went on the pill to stop myself bleeding because I knew we had to wear white under-shorts, and I didn't want to face any embarrassment. 'We're running around sweating, doing the splits on the court. This year I knew my period was going to be during Wimbledon again, so I'm very happy that I won't have to do the same thing as last year. 'I think it's a real positive and it's really great. Really forward-thinking.' American great Agassi won Wimbledon in 1992 after boycotting the tournament for three years earlier in his career. 'It's my first time at the most hallowed venue in tennis, and from the moment we arrive I dislike it,' he wrote in his book Open. More Trending 'I'm a sheltered teenager from Las Vegas with no education. I reject all that's alien, and London feels as alien as a place can be. 'The food, the buses, the venerable traditions. Even the grass of Wimbledon smells different from the grass back home. 'I resent rules, but especially arbitrary rules. Why must I wear white? I don't want to wear white. Why should it matter to these people what I wear. 'Above all, I took offence at being barred and blocked and made to feel unwanted.' For more stories like this, check our sport page. Follow Metro Sport for the latest news on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. MORE: Novak Djokovic warned he is 'not at the level' of two Wimbledon rivals MORE: 'Bizarre' – Tim Henman criticises Wimbledon favourite Carlos Alcaraz MORE: Wimbledon day 2 order of play: What time are Jack Draper and Novak Djokovic playing?
Spectator
3 hours ago
- Spectator
Wimbledon's myth of elitism
Many were the jibes when Boris Johnson announced that he was 'thrilled' to be back on the tennis court in 2021 as lockdown restrictions eased. 'Bloody posho poncing about on a tennis court' or 'how typical' were probably some of them. Sir Keir, naturally, made sure that he was photographed on a football pitch on the same day. But here's the thing: these days, playing tennis isn't posh. Yes, chins love to watch it and play it – helped by tennis courts of their own – but the playing of tennis has become democratised. Reports of next-gen community tennis clubs springing up all over the country have become widespread, according to the Financial Times. And yet tennis has always had a class problem. Long viewed as a pastime solely for the aristocracy and middle classes, tennis has good reason to be associated with the elite: think ice cubes rattling away in the clubhouse, membership at vast prices, immaculate tennis whites, lots of free time during the day. It's hardly surprising that as a sport it produces feelings of revolutionary ire in some people. To add to this, the major tennis tournaments played in this country – Queen's and Wimbledon – are profitable because they play on these associations of elitism and old-school money: strawberries and cream, Panama hats, dress codes. Crowds love Wimbledon not just for its tennis but also for its raging gatekeeping snobbery, while the Queen's Club doesn't have to do much more than put up a few cordons to give people the feel that some necessary exclusion is going on somewhere. But if British tennis tournaments play on their toff overtones for profit, the pros themselves tell a totally different story. British players who qualify for Wimbledon are anything but posh – and proud of it. Take Liam Broady and Dan Evans, both top-ranking British players, who have risen through the gritty ranks of the tour on little to no financial recompense, a lot of sweat and some long-suffering parents willing to drive them around the country at weekends. Broady, the cheeky chappie from Stockport who delighted the centre court crowd back in 2023 by telling his mum to 'chill out' because he had 'already won 80 grand', briefly became something of a national treasure. Dan 'Evo' Evans, the self-styled bad boy from Birmingham, lived with a host family in Loughborough at the start of his career – far from manicured private courts and a clubhouse. Andy Murray, arguably Britain's most successful tennis player, began his ascent on the drizzly tennis courts of Dunblane, a town not known for its tennis culture. When this country did, finally, produce a posh tennis player in the shape of privately educated Old Dragon Tim Henman, the media went wild for his Oxfordshire middle-class credentials. At the peak of his career, Henman inspired public frenzy as the Daily Mail and other titles went wild for his inscrutable, Panama hat-wearing father Tony, his lovely Pony Club wife Lucy, and – rather mysteriously – his looks. The British love tennis precisely because it is a familiar choreography of our class struggle, kept within the tramlines But I always felt rather sorry for Tim Henman, a man who came to represent far more than the tennis he played: a rare beast who elided the public perception of tennis with his ambition. In 1999, Pat Cash, earring-sporting Australian and former Wimbledon champion, declared that Henman would never make it because he was 'the product of the middle classes' and 'didn't have the stomach for a fight'. How very unfair of Mr Cash – but also, as it turns out, so canny of him to underline the nation's hopeful obsession with Henman as our desire to see sport and player reunited in the same class bracket. So why the social dissonance between the sport and its professionals? Who gains? Certainly not the professionals, who bemoan the sport's middle-class straitjacket – and certainly not the Lawn Tennis Association, who have long disputed the 'white, male and stale' perceptions of the sport. This 'negative' view, they claim, deters young players coming up through community outreach schemes, leading the Guardian to state that there 'will never be a Marcus Rashford of tennis'. In his book A People's History of Tennis, David Berry attempts to counter the monocultural record of the sport, arguing for its radical nature that has always attracted maverick visions of femininity and politics – pointing to the socialist tennis movement of the 1970s, when there was briefly a 'Worker's Wimbledon'. Personally, I'm not convinced that we want tennis to be radical. The British love tennis precisely because it is a familiar choreography of our class struggle, kept within the tramlines. Boris knew it when he lumbered onto a tennis court that day – and we know it when we switch the box on for Wimbledon. As a social game, we're always at love-all without an umpire.
Spectator
3 hours ago
- Spectator
Venice is a city of love and menace
Jeff Bezos has brought much tat into the world, along with the undoubted convenience of Amazon's services. But in at least one respect, he is a man of good taste. In choosing Venice to plight his troth with his lovely bride Lauren Sanchez at the weekend, Bezos picked the best possible location: La Serenissima is indeed a veritable miracle. It is a logic-defying wonder, and despite my frequent visits, I still don't understand the physics of its construction. How can a city of hundreds of heavy palaces and churches, resting on petrified wooden piles driven into mud, continue to exist centuries after the Venetian lagoon was first settled by terrified refugees? Those who founded the city were of course fleeing the fury of invading barbarian hordes of Huns and Visigoths laying waste to the rest of northern Italy. It was probably that same remoteness of the 100-plus islands that saved Venice for civilisation. Those refugees evolved from precarious fishermen into a magnificent maritime empire, based on a miraculous floating city that is still – I make no apologies for claiming, though it is hardly an original suggestion – the most gorgeous and romantic place in the world. How can anyone resist a city without cars, where water rules supreme and, instead of buses or Tube trains, you take a speedy vaporetto to your desired destination? Just to be afloat here soothes the most jangled of nerves. I first visited Venice aged five. The only memories I have of that trip are of a drunken British sailor from a visiting warship reeling around St Mark's Square yelling 'Fred!' and the coloured glass globules adorning the wrought-iron gateway into Peggy Guggenheim's gallery on the Grand Canal. Peggy, like Bezos, was just one of many super-rich celebrities lured to Venice by its glitz. Since its empire declined from the 16th century onwards, La Serenissima has depended on tourism and its reputation – appropriately for Casanova's home town – as the place to go with your lover. I have been to Venice perhaps 30 times since that first visit. I have my own favourite modest hotel tucked away near St Mark's and would stay there for good if I could. Yes, I know all the clichés: Venice is thick with touts and pickpockets; it stinks in summer; it's overpriced and overwhelmed with day-trippers from the giant cruise ships that are going to finally capsize the sinking city; Venice is dying with a shrinking population the size of Brighton and Hove. Despite all these half-truths, 'trotz alledem' as the Germans say, I would like to end my days there. Many have done precisely that, both in fact and fiction. Just as some places – like Rome and Paris – are cities of life, so others like Venice and Vienna are cities of death, shaded by gloom and giving off a faint air of dissolution. Wagner died here, in the superb palazzo Ca' Vendramin Calergi on the Grand Canal which now houses the Casino, and Browning passed in another, the Ca' Rezzonico, acquired by his son Pen thanks to his marriage to an American heiress. I never see the ATM in the corner of St Mark's Square without her jibe ringing in my ears: 'That will be 150 euros for services not rendered' In fiction, the writer Gustav Aschenbach found both lust and death in Venice, via the pen of Thomas Mann – a novella memorably realised on screen by Luchino Visconti in Dirk Bogarde's finest performance. My three favourite Venetian films are all about death, the other two being Don't Look Now, a macabre tale by Daphne du Maurier, which includes the most erotic encounter ever seen in a mainstream movie, and The Comfort of Strangers, based on an Ian McEwan novel which sees a sinister Christopher Walken murderously obsessed with Rupert Everett. All these films mingle Eros with death and for me that is part of Venice's draw. You don't expect a honeymoon here to be entirely happy, as Mr John Cross discovered when he took his 60-year-old bride George Eliot there. For reasons still unexplained, young Mr Cross leapt from his hotel room into the Grand Canal and was fished out by gondoliers rather than perform his conjugal duty with the eminent novelist. A similar fate befell the great critic John Ruskin, who introduced Venetian architecture to the Victorian public. Ruskin was so shocked by the sight of his bride Effie Grey's pubic hair that it completely unmanned him (his only previous sight of a naked woman having been on classical statues). The marriage was later annulled due to non-consummation. The one time that I went to Venice with seduction specifically on my mind, fate also failed to deliver the anticipated outcome for me. To add insult to injury, the lady concerned asked me to pay her airfare home to Berlin. I never see the ATM in the corner of St Mark's Square without her jibe ringing in my ears: 'That will be 150 euros for services not rendered.' So if not romance, what is it that makes me adore the place? It is the mystery of this maze, and a definite air of menace. In the evenings, when the tourists have gone back to their ships and the shadows lengthen, you can wander alone and lose yourself in the heart of the labyrinth. There is a thrill in not knowing who or what will be around the next corner. And if it turns out to be a hideous knife-wielding dwarf in a red mac, a beautiful boy in a sailor suit or indeed Jeff Bezos – why, that would be exciting too.
