Tulisa pulls out of Pride event after her famous father Steve Contostavlos dies
Known as Plato, the keyboard player, played for the band Mungo Jerry and was thought to be around 65 years old.
And now Tulisa has revealed she will be stepping back from work commitments as she comes to terms with the loss.
The N-Dubz star was due to perform at The Clapham Grand on Saturday night, however on Wednesday the venue took to Instagram as they confirmed she will no longer be part of the lineup.
They penned: 'PRIDE UPDATE... We are sorry to announce that due to a family bereavement, Tulisa will understandably no longer be joining us for our Pride After Party on Saturday.
'We are sending Tulisa and her family all of our love. ❤️ We will be announce a new special guest later today and look forward to welcoming you all to our Pride Parties this Saturday.'
Tulisa marked his passing on Tuesday as she posted a childhood image showing her snuggling with her dad and the words: 'Love you pops, rest in peace. Forever my father's daughter'
On Tuesday Tulia took to Instagram on Tuesday to share an emotional tribute for her late dad as she posted a childhood image of the pair snuggled up together.
She penned: 'Love you pops, rest in peace. Forever my father's daughter.'
The singer's heartfelt post was met with a plethora of sympathetic messages from her showbiz pals and followers.
Heartbroken Dappy, 38, also previously shared the sad news as he posted a video of himself with his uncle, alongside a white dove.
Tulisa commented on the post with a broken heart emoji and Dappy, real name Costadinos Contostavlos, wrote: 'I'm so sorry T.'
It is not known how Plato passed away.
In 2024, Tulisa opened up about her unconventional relationship with her father.
She told Paul C Brunson on his We Need To Talk podcast: 'Me and my dad's relationship has not been a conventional one.
Heartbroken Dappy [L], also previously shared the sad news as he posted a video of himself with his uncle, alongside a white dove [the pair pictured with N-Dubz bandmate Fazer in 2023]
Tulisa's heartfelt post was met with a plethora of sympathetic messages from her showbiz pals and followers
'I would say me and my dad now we're just more friends that kind of have an understanding of one another.'
Meanwhile, she spoke of her dad's influence on her musical career during a chat on Ferne Cotton's Happy Place podcast.
She shared: 'My dad had a little studio in Dollis Hill and he used to bring me there sometimes when he was working. He put me on the mic at the age of five. I was singing Little Mermaid.
'I just knew there was nothing else I felt passionate about.'
That same year, I'm A Celebrity fans were stunned to discover her father was also famous.
They were surprised to discover her dad was a keyboard player from the band Mungo Jerry.
The rock group was formed by Ray Dorset in 1970 and they were famed for their hit In The Summertime.
Tulisa's uncle - her bandmate Dappy 's father - Byron was the bassist for the band and later became the manager of N-Dubz.
Commenting on her musical heritage, fans wrote: 'Did you know that Tulisa and Dappy's uncle was in Mungo Jerry of In The Summertime fame?'
'I did not know that Tulisa Contostavlos' dad was the keyboard player in Mungo Jerry.'
'Little piece of trivia. Tulisa's father and uncle were in the band Mungo Jerry.'
The Contostavlos family left Africa in the Seventies and moved to London where they lived in a six-bedroom house in leafy Brondesbury, with Tulisa's grandfather a senior diplomat with the United Nations.
After touring the world with Mungo Jerry, Plato returned to London. He got together with Tulisa's mother, Ann Byrne, in 1984, and Tulisa was born four years later.
A talented singer and impressionist, Ann enjoyed fleeting success with her sisters Louisa, Paula and Moira in 1980s swing band Jeep.
There was also an appearance on short-lived talent show Go For It, in which she performed as Hollywood screen icon Marilyn Monroe.
Unbeknown to Plato, however, Ann had suffered a mental breakdown two years before they met.
Later diagnosed as a schizoaffective disorder, the condition was triggered again when Tulisa was two and Ann began suffering from hallucinations.
Ann's condition continued to deteriorate, meaning she spent regular periods in the psychiatric unit at the nearby Royal Free Hospital.
It was a devastating time for the family, with Plato looking after Tulisa on his own and his daughter unable at first to understand why her mother was not at home.
The couple split up when Tulisa was 10.
After the break-up, Plato moved in with his parents at their £1.2 million five-bedroom house in West Hampstead, while Tulisa stayed with her mother.
The singer was thrust into the role of primary carer for her mum who battled a combination of bipolar and schizophrenia.
Back in 2012, Plato told how he taught Tulisa to stand up for herself after she faced relentless bullying in school over her mother's mental illness.
He told the Sunday Mirror: 'My daughter was horribly bullied. It was awful. Children would scream, "Your mum's a loony". Tulisa was about five years old when it first started. She would come home crying all the time.
'In the end I had to tell her, 'I can't go and sort this problem out for you. This is the kind of thing you are going to face in life and you have to stand up for yourself'.
'Then one day when she was about seven, after I had trained her for about six months, she came back from school and said, "Dad I knocked one of them out. You were right Dad, I did it". It had to be done, the misery that child went through at school was unbelievable. Every time she went in she was terrified.'
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Times
an hour ago
- Times
I watched YouTube for a week with my children. Here's what I learnt
At about 5pm every day, in the small window between after-school activities and dinner, my three and five-year-old daughters veg out in front of a screen. Sometimes they'll watch a cartoon on Netflix; occasionally they'll ask for CBeebies. The majority of the time, though, it's YouTube. The show they chose — or rather, that was algorithmically suggested — to watch one recent afternoon follows the adventures of a real-life brother and sister. They'd watched it before, as have many other children, since it's one of the most popular kids' channels on YouTube. While my daughters love the slapstick humour, to me it's like white noise, the background soundtrack to my multitasking. But the video they watched that day made me pay attention. In it the brother tricks his sister into thinking she has gained weight. Visibly upset, the little girl changes into a skimpy workout outfit to do star jumps, and later turns down a sandwich in favour of a plate of raw carrot sticks, before heading to her bedroom to weigh herself. I was horrified, both at what we were watching and at myself for letting my impressionable daughters access it. How was it, I wondered, that this type of content was being promoted on a platform marketed as family-friendly? And what else had they watched that had flown under my radar? According to Michelle Neumann, a professor of childhood education at the University of Sheffield who has carried out research on children's YouTube content, this is precisely the problem with a lot of what our kids are watching. 'On the surface many of these channels seem OK, so if a parent glances over their shoulder, they might think, that looks fun,' she says. 'But when you dig deeper, you realise there's a lot of problematic content.' So I set myself a challenge: for one week I would dig deeper, intently watching everything that my girls were looking at on YouTube to see what I would learn. I should preface my little experiment with a disclosure: my husband and I used to work for Google, which acquired YouTube in 2006. I joined in 2017, the year it emerged that bad actors were circumnavigating the platform's filters to run creepy, violent and explicit videos on YouTube Kids, the version of the app for under-12s. But the company's response to the scandal had been solid, I thought — introducing new guidelines for creators about what qualified as good children's content, beefing up its moderation and mass deleting inappropriate videos. • YouTube and the rise and rise of trash TV for kids In the years after the scandal, after we became parents, my husband and I found ourselves turning to the platform more and more for educational and entertainment purposes. The depth of content is simply unrivalled. For example, around the age of four, after reading a lift-the-flap history book in our local library, my eldest daughter developed a morbid fascination with the bubonic plague. Her endless curiosity quickly exhausted my limited grasp of 14th-century history, but I knew YouTube would have the answers. Sure enough, I found what seemed like an age-appropriate video that taught her everything she needed to know about the Black Death. She watched it repeatedly for months, until the next obsession took over (Egyptian mummies). This way of using YouTube is what Michael Robb, the head of research at Common Sense Media, the age-rating forum for parents, calls intentional — knowing what you're looking for and being deliberate about identifying it. The problem is, he says, it's just not reflective of how people actually use the platform. 'You could stay within a playlist that perhaps a parent has curated and have really good, high-quality content,' he tells me. 'But it's not how kids use YouTube, and it's not how it was designed.' When a carefully chosen video finishes, algorithmically powered suggestions on what to watch next can take kids down a rabbit hole of low-quality — even harmful — content. This became clear within about ten minutes of my week-long challenge. After watching a video where a monocle-wearing cartoon professor explained evolution (fuelled by another question that had left me stumped), what followed was a flurry of content that, had it appeared on terrestrial television, would have had the Ofcom complaints line ringing off the hook. In one video, which had more than a billion views, two young brothers showed off a homemade vending machine that spat out boxes of sugary cereal, fizzy drinks and chocolate bars. In another, a child played with what the video title described as 'girl' toys: a pretend sewing machine, a nail salon and a pink play kitchen (all things my girls love, I should add — but so, too, do lots of boys). • Apart from these (and other) examples of content that flouted UK broadcasting guidelines or featured dated stereotypes, most of what we watched might generously be called clickbait: content that promised to teach children to learn new words, say, but that ended up being a thinly disguised toy promotion. Many of the videos we watched had titles packed with educational-sounding buzzwords, but turned out to be garbage with no narrative arc, out-of-sync dubbing and, all too often, an undercurrent of consumerism. A spokesperson for YouTube told The Sunday Times: 'On YouTube Kids we provide parents with robust controls to decide what content to make available, whether approving specific content, choosing from age-appropriate categories, or the ability to block specific videos or channels.' They added that, after reviewing the links we shared, it had found no violations of its community guidelines. My experiment stacks up with what other (more rigorous) studies have found: the platform has a few gems, some quite shocking content and a hell of a lot of rubbish. 'We did some research a few years back and found that, while YouTube says it has a lot of educational, high-quality videos, really only a small percentage of the content could be classed that way,' Robb says. 'A lot of the videos that position themselves as being high quality or educational are very shallow.' By the end of the week I realised it was these types of videos that bothered me the most — content that Neumann described as 'wolves in sheep's clothing'. I feel well equipped to have conversations with my children about media content that very obviously challenges our family values. After watching the video that first triggered this article, I spoke to both my daughters about what we had just seen — how no food is inherently good or bad, about how we exercise to feel, not look, good. But knowing how to deal with the other, more innocuous-seeming content has left me as confused as when one of my kids asks me how birds evolved from dinosaurs. Colin Ward, a Bafta-winning former children's TV producer and member of the Children's Media Foundation, agrees that, like me, most parents are struggling to separate the wheat from the chaff. But he questions whether that type of pressure should be put on us in the first place. 'Parents can't be expected to police this — it's just not possible,' he says. Neither should we put our faith in the platforms to self-regulate, given their main concern is their bottom line. 'It's a very competitive market and they are focused on monetisation, so they're not going to change.' YouTube told The Sunday Times: 'We have strict advertising guidelines on YouTube Kids, and don't allow paid promotional content.' If we can't leave it to individuals or the free market to tackle, that leaves just one actor that might make a difference: governments. Ward knows that might not be popular with some people, but makes a point I think most parents will agree with. 'We all accept that there are some things that are important as a public service, whether it's the armed forces or parks, and that those things need taxes to support them and sometimes regulations,' he says. 'When it comes to our children having access to high-quality content and not just utter drivel, that too is surely a social good?' The present government has already indicated it will take action. Late last year the culture secretary, Lisa Nandy, wrote to YouTube urging it to make high-quality programming more visible on its platform. She also suggested that, if this doesn't happen voluntarily, regulation might force its hand. YouTube told The Sunday Times that it 'continues to engage regularly with the culture secretary, as part of our ongoing efforts to support the UK's high quality children's content creators'. But while she and others work on that, what are parents to do? Ban our kids from accessing YouTube? Co-watch at all times? Neither seems realistic, at least not in my household. I have promised we will continue to apply a little more of that all-important intentionality. In other words, relying on our gut when deciding what might be an appropriate video for our kids, rather than ceding control to an algorithm.
Times
an hour ago
- Times
Black Sabbath at Villa Park review: moving reunion as Ozzy rocks out
Never mind those over-hyped Oasis gigs, there was only one truly historic rock comeback show over the weekend as Birmingham's Villa Park football stadium hosted Back to the Beginning, an all-star heavy rock gathering that reunited the full original line-up of the local heroes Black Sabbath for the first time in 20 years, and the last time ever. This sold-out, all-day charity benefit event was essentially the retirement party for the band's 76-year-old singer and international treasure Ozzy Osbourne, who was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease in 2019, and now has limited mobility. It is no exaggeration to call Black Sabbath the Beatles of heavy metal, their hugely influential legacy reflected in the multigenerational cast list of superstar head-bangers who came to pay tribute at Villa Park, all working for free. Metallica, Guns N' Roses, Anthrax, Slayer, Alice in Chains and many others performed short sets of about 20 to 30 minutes, each including at least one Sabbath or Ozzy song. • The best concerts in London and the UK to book in 2025 Not every set was a killer, but credit is due to Lzzy Hale of Halestorm, the only woman on the bill, for rocking harder than most of her male peers. Metallica were also reliably propulsive, exhilarating and adrenalised. 'Thank you Black Sabbath,' growled James Hetfield, 'for giving us a purpose in life'. Between the main bands, a fluid supergroup featuring members of Judas Priest, Smashing Pumpkins, Red Hot Chili Peppers and more also played, joined by surprise guests including the Rolling Stones guitarist Ronnie Wood and the rising pop-rock star Yungblud, who brought high-energy swagger to his reworking of Sabbath's 1972 power ballad Changes. The Rage Against the Machine guitarist Tom Morello served as musical director for the whole event, and gave a few shredding performances himself, pairing up with Aerosmith's Steven Tyler for riotously funky versions of Walk This Way and Led Zeppelin's Whole Lotta Love. The Villa Park video screens also aired fond video tributes to Ozzy and Sabbath from famous well-wishers, including Sir Elton John, Dolly Parton and Jack Black. Black Sabbath have survived multiple splits, temporary reunions and premature retirements over their six-decade career. They last played in Birmingham with two huge 'farewell' shows in 2017, but Back to the Beginning inevitably had a more concrete air of finality, given Ozzy's health issues. Even so, the singer seemed in pretty fine voice when he finally appeared on stage to huge cheers, performing two short sets from a black leather armchair adorned with skulls and bat wings. Even a fallen emperor needs a throne. Ozzy opened with five songs from his post-Sabbath solo career, including a gothically camp Mr Crowley and the rollicking audience sing-along Crazy Train. After a short break, he reappeared with his Sabbath co-founders: the guitarist Tony Iommi, the bass player Terence 'Geezer' Butler and the drummer Bill Ward. There was a palpable sense of hatchets being buried and rifts healed at Villa Park, with Ward back in the fold after his acrimonious exclusion from previous tours. Sabbath's four-song set was all too brief, but still a pleasing reminder that seminal classics such as Paranoid, War Pigs and Iron Man retain their potent fusion of jazz, blues, funk, proto-punk aggression and doomy occult imagery. Climaxing with a blaze of fireworks, this was a mostly excellent and ultimately rather moving event. The artist formerly known as the Prince of Darkness may be hanging up his horns, but he is not going gently into that good night. ★★★★☆
The Guardian
2 hours ago
- The Guardian
James May: ‘When I'm mistaken for Jeremy Clarkson, I have to go home and examine myself very deeply'
James May. But what would James Definitely Not? All sorts of things. Skydiving. Morris dancing. Living as a monk. Agricultural work. Being a high court judge. Anything that involves dressing up. I'm not too fussy about food. I can't think of anything I wouldn't eat, although I have a strange ambivalence about broccoli. I can't make my mind up about it and it infuriates people. People say: you're not doing it properly. I think: how do you know how I'm doing it? I've heard you can roast it with bits of bacon, garlic and olive oil. In which case, it's not only broccoli any more, is it? Why does the water flow anticlockwise down the plug hole in Australia but clockwise in the UK? Because of the rotation of the Earth. If you go to the equator – and I've done this – you can do an experiment with a bucket of water with a hole in the bottom. If you stand exactly on the equator and drop in a matchstick, it will stay stationary. If you walk north of the equator 100 paces, it starts going around one way. If you walk south, it starts going the other way. It's quite a boring experiment and you have to have absolutely nothing else left to do in your life. If you could have a sandwich named after you, what would you call it? I think sandwiches are crap. I'm making a series on YouTube called Sarnies of the 70s, where we dig up these terrible old fillings like Spam and Branston pickle. It's fascinating to remember what we ate when I was a child. But I describe sandwiches – and I'm afraid I also think this about pizza – as crisis food. Nobody ever says: I can't be bothered to cook tonight. Should we go out for a sandwich? No one wants a sandwich. You are reduced to having a sandwich. Both you and Clarkson own pubs. In the event of a zombie apocalypse, which pub would you rather be stuck at? Oh, mine. It's in Wiltshire. We're heavily armed down here. People queue up at Clarkson's. There's queueing protocol going on, which I don't like. We've had this argument many times. The whole point of the bar in a pub is that it's wide and shallow. It's not a hatch. Why would you queue at it? Good bar people know the order in which to serve. Alan Davies told us in this very column that he gets mistaken for you. Who do you get mistaken for, if not Alan Davies? I have been mistaken for Alan Davies. I've been told I look like King Théoden from Lord of the Rings. Robert Plant is very flattering. Billy Connolly is flattering. Unfortunately, quite a few times when I've been out walking or riding my bike around London, I've been mistaken for Jeremy Clarkson. I have to go home, examine myself very deeply and think: what have I done? The small print on your new tour, Explorers, warns of 'occasional scent, fog and other immersive theatrical elements'. What is your favourite occasional scent? Good question. I like all the obvious nature scents like flowers, freshly mown grass and rain falling on a hot pavement. I like the smell of bicycle shops because I like that smell of rubber and rubber solution. It's not a pervy or fetish thing. I like the smell of freshly pumped petrol, which smells exactly like what it isn't – which is delicious. If you get petrol in your mouth because you're siphoning it from the lawnmower, it tastes absolutely foul. But when it's coming out of the pump into your car, it's got almost a mango juice smell to it. What's been your most cringeworthy run-in with a celebrity? I haven't had any, really. I've never run up to Alan Davies and said: 'I love Top Gear. Can I have your autograph?' Would you rather die at the bottom of the ocean or deep out into space? I've wondered about dying in space. The Apollo 11 lunar module was too fragile to test on Earth, so what if it hadn't worked? They'd have been stuck on the moon for eternity. How do you end it? Do you just sit there and gradually suffocate? Or do you take off your space helmet, take a deep breath, open the door and effectively boil? Dying at the bottom of the ocean feels particularly dark and lonely. I'm going to go for space because the view in the last few seconds would be better. If you could change the size of any animal and keep it as a pet, what would you choose? A miniature elephant. I was going to say a tiger. But then you can just have a domestic cat, can't you? A miniature great white shark in a pond in your garden would be pretty cool. If you had miniature blue whales in an aquarium, they'd come up to the surface and blow off in miniature. I'd like that. Who is your biggest nemesis? Honestly, it's probably Jeremy Clarkson. James May's show Explorers – The Age of Discovery tours Australia and New Zealand from 29 July, and the UK from 20 September
