The Tory scheme to roll back the state; those who know their station; the artist formerly known as the greatest thing since sliced bread; and a one-string pony

Out of America: For years a rare and protected species, Canis lupus is now fair game again – but it's the hunters who are under fire

On the day when America salutes the men who built the nation, Nancy Hughes rounds up the numerology of the Wild West

Sharon Stone's representative has denied reports police detained her at an airport.

They may be tiny, but they're marching across the US in their billions, killing vast swathes of woodland. Graham Mole reports on a modern-day plague

Jonathan Ross's Saturday morning show on Radio 2 will no longer be broadcast live.

Since disbanding Grandaddy prior to the band's 2006 swansong Just Like The Fambly Cat, Jason Lytle has decamped to rural Montana, where he recorded this solo debut entirely on his own.

Teen idol Miley Cyrus has a message for Internet critics calling her fat - cyber-bullying can seriously scar people, leading them to hurt themselves.

The United States once pursued a policy of eradicating its wolves; shooting, poisoning and trapping them until there were almost no free wild wolves in the country, says Mark Rowlands. However, with the policy now abolished, they are again roaming through parts of Wyoming, Montana and Minnesota. They are also prowling in abundance through the pages of literature, in the strikingly vivid Sharp Teeth by Toby Barlow and Joseph Smith's hauntingly beautiful debut, The Wolf.

Singer Billy Ray Cyrus spoke of his pride last night as he and daughter Miley attended the UK premiere of Hannah Montana The Movie.

Graham Lindsey? Not, as it turns out, an accountant from Luton but a woolly and possibly wild songwriter from Montana.

Like Sweden's Koop, Finland's Five Corners favour a swing tempo, Fifties-meets-Sixties retro style that is superficially attractive and probably great live.

The hard-hitting crime writer James Crumley wrote novels of a honed, rugged wit that were narrated by investigators as down-at-heel as their quarries. In this he was an heir to Raymond Chandler, whose paperbacks he had come across in 1967, in a Mexican supermarket. It was an epiphany that made Crumley realise that sustained linguistic flourish was not solely the province of such work as his own first, sprawling novel about army life, One to Count Cadence. Seven more novels followed, the best of which were set in Montana, the patch he made his own throughout a turbulent, much-married life.