The Cindy Spot presents Sophie Anderton, for no reason at all.

Like millions of people, I do not watch what used to be called Celebrity Love Island but now goes without the Celebrity bit, like the lineup on the show itself. (Note to ITV executives: if the celebrities were allowed to actually have sex, it might do wonders for the ratings.) Not even to look at formerly troubled model Sophie Anderton, who has been described as making Chris Moyles not seem self-obsessed in comparison, by Chris Moyles himself. This is because I refuse, out of principle, to sit through any reality TV show not called Drawn Together.

But hey, Sophie's still on staff. If there are red X's on this post, you can link to the page I nicked these from. :)

Enough with the dates.

Things that annoyed me about the situation over the weekend:

1. Tendency of people to behave as if there was an actual attack, rather than the prevention of one.
2. "10/8." Santa Maria...
3. At least one media source claiming this could have been Britain's 9/11. The planes were heading from the UK to other places, not vice versa.
4. The theories raised on both sides of the Atlantic about the suspicious timing of this thwarting of a monstrous atrocity. Although this last only counts as an annoyance if it's true, and it would hardly be the first time that it's happened (witness the good day to bury bad news farrago and the Emperor's transparently obvious voter-pandering).
5. The announcement that the British government's done this four times before, although curiously they never felt the need to announce this until now. (And as the family of Jean Charles de Menezes will attest, the UK forces don't always get it right.)

I dread to think what would have happened had it gone wrong.

The worst thing is, it'll probably

In light of what happened yesterday, an all-Cindy weekend update.

Because I could do with some good news, and so could you.

Cindy: Monica Bellucci. Ignore the men and look at how she takes up space. And remember to click on the title above.

Cindy: Amazing Stories Anthology Two! Already ordered - two and a half hours more of aural pleasure...

Cindy: Anezza's back from holiday in a week and a half. Can't wait. (As I may have said before, I like this pint-sized Michelle Branch lookalike.)

Cindy: I finally got my overtime wages.

Cindy: Big Brother ends next week!

Cindy: Writing again, at last...

"Who wrote this thing, Paul Thomas Anderson? Edit, people!"

I promised Jen that I'd take myself over to Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest this weekend on her behalf, since she's too lazy to get her shapely behind into a multiplex. :) I also saw Cars (saying this is the worst Pixar movie to date is like saying "Lift Me Up" is Geri Halliwell's best record - it's only in comparison to all the others - but it's horribly close to DreamWorks at times. And not the DreamWorks of The Prince of Egypt, Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas and Over The Hedge either, and not only because they replaced the voice of Lightning's agent on UK prints... I should have known this wouldn't be up to Pixar's high standards when they called in Jeremy Clarkson*).
Anyhoo, Pirates of the Blahblahblah. I liked the new Walt Disney Pictures logo (the castle in three dimensions with backgrounds and everything); I liked Johnny Depp's performance as much as in the first one, although he doesn't get as much screen time this time alas; and Bill Nighy as Davy Jones was good too, with great squid makeup to boot. The trouble is, the movie's structured as the first part of a two-parter and it takes its time about it; careful setting up of characters is one thing, but writers Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio (whose names on a project never bodes well for me, with the exceptions of Aladdin and The Mask of Zorro) just faff about for a lot of the film's two and a half hours. Turner is sent off to get something to help him and Elizabeth escape the noose, Sparrow is off to get the same thing to help him wriggle out of a deal he made with Jones, Elizabeth sets out to get some information to help her and Turner escape... this isn't so much an adventure-fantasy as a very, very, very long version of the story about the old woman who wanted some help with a pig (everyone she asked wanted her to get someone else to help them, and so on).
Plus, it's an adventure-fantasy that throws in everything from cannibals to sea monsters but little in the way of plot coherence or thrilling scenes. Like Lethal Weapon 4, the impression is that everyone concerned was having such a good time making the movie that they forgot to focus on getting the story started; this was a problem with the first movie, and it's worse here because this is exactly what a lot of people accused Back to the Future Part II of being, namely a long trailer for the third movie. It just goes along with not much actual momentum until it abruptly stops with the setting-up completed. (Although to be fair, the unexpected and uncredited appearance of a major character from the first movie does bode well for the next one. Since Jen hasn't seen the original, I think she should, otherwise she'll have no idea why this is a good thing.)
Just to make matters worse, the movie stretches credibility too much even for a fantasy-adventure (even I, who can suspend disbelief from incalculably high altitudes - as you'd expect from someone who's watched every episode of Charmed - even I have to draw the line somewhere. And when the plot expects us to accept Keira Knightley disguising herself as a man and people falling for it, that line is very much drawn... not least since her hair is cut short for the illusion and then suddenly appears long and flowing again). Coincidences to get all the key people where they have to be do not a good plotline make, either. And really, as with the first movie does it have to be so long? (Hence the Lorelei Gilmore quote.)
Orlando Bloom proves again that he's probably the only actor in the world to seem less macho with blonde hair, but Naomie Harris, Jack Davenport and most of the rest of the cast are better (Keira's a bit too BBC-ish to be effective); Hans Zimmer and chums's music isn't a help, but the ILM/Asylum/Orphanage/etc. effects are; and there's a nice joke after the end credits, but not enough ones before them. It really is a fairground attraction of a movie; nothing but a ride, and not much of one at that. I didn't hate it, but in a perfect world Superman Returns would take in the cash that this and Cars are rolling in.
In short, Jen might like it, but I doubt it. She should see the first one and then decide.

*Jeremy Clarkson is a loudmouthed motoring TV personality, and a right-wing jerk to boot. I hate him.

You're never too old to get a visit from the Tooth Fairy.

For months and months, one of my teeth has been rotting away, more and more. Greyer, and blacker, and hole-ier. Little scraps of food getting trapped in it, hurting, etc. And all this time I never went to the dentist. Because I'm cheap. And scared (I still have memories of being at home watching Operation Dumbo Drop on Sky Movies because the removal of a tooth was so painful).
This morning, while munching a Hobnob I got an unexpected surprise; I felt something in my mouth and... you guessed it. A good part of that tooth is now in front of me. Looks like a black eyed pea, so I'm best rid of it. Anything that reminds me of Stacy Ferguson has got to go.

These pictures of Cindy in St. Tropez are disgusting.

Mainly because I'm not in them. I have to admit it's surprising to see Cindy carrying on like this; and yet, she looks like she's having fun. (Although when you remember the breast-signing incident, it suggests that she's got a wicked side to her. Which is certainly preferable to her being an all-out skank, right?)

If the stories about her husband cheating on her are true, he is a fool. A fool. Compare Cindy (40, two kids) to Kate Moss (30s, one kid)... and Cindy doesn't shovel coke/powdered sugar up her nostrils. Cindy Crawford continues to rule. (Title contains link to pictures just in case those damn red Xs show up.)

Paris Hilton Cindy isn't...

...thank goodness.

InThe313 in the SW10, or NE23, or W6, or...

If you're reading this, Tom, and you're still in London, give me a buzz (I really should visit your blog more often - I'm an idiot...). My address is in the profile.

Cindy: Headphones!

Bliss. Working to Jerry Goldsmith, Thomas Newman, John Debney and French television themes, and only I can hear them. No more Lily Allen, no more Choice FM, no more Blue... well, they're there but they're defused.

Headphones. Escape! Try them today!

Swimming with sunglasses

Then again, who's looking at the glasses? (Ten years ago, if there had been a lot less people around this would have been a men's magazine's dream come true.)