Kelly Brook bows out (just lean forward a little more)

Sadly, Kelly has withdrawn from Strictly Come dancing following the death of her father this week. So that's another two good reasons to stop watching, Now Agent Triple P's attention will be focussed entirely on Alesha Dixon. Unfortunately, we will be enroute to Los Angeles this evening so will miss this week's programme.

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Miss December: Petra Nemcova

We have already featured the lovely Petra so we will confine ourselves to her calendar picture.

Oh alright, maybe one more.

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Traffic lights

Traffic lights are a pain and it is interesting to note that one Danish town has abolished them altogether and has seen the number of road accidents plummet.

But why is it that when the lights change the cars at the front of the queue take so long to respond? They don't seem to realise that for cars ten places back the speed at which they get away can make the difference between getting through the lights or not and losing a couple of minites as a result. Not very much in itself but when driving through Surrey when you have a set every 400 yards or so it all adds up and makes journeys far longer than they need to be.

Needless to say it is usually women who are so slow off the lights.
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Agent DVD returns

So he is back from his mission to the Far East but we haven't been able to catch up with him yet. No doubt he was hoping there would be someone like this along.

Now he was very dissapointed he wouldn't have an evening in Bangkok as we think he was feeling that he might need a massage to ease his muscles. But maybe he managed to bring back a Thai girl to keep his Porsche clean. He does enjoy a girlie washing a car!

No doubt he will have discovered how very lovely Vietnamese girls are. In my limited experience, much lovelier than the rather overrated Thai women.

That said, Triple P has fond memories of staying in a hotel in Bangkok (now sadly closed) which had a splendid sports club attached. We went to the changing room and discovered a frosted glass wall between the mens' and womens' changing rooms. The womens' changing room had black walls so all these pale shapes were visible the other side. The mens' changing room had white walls. This particular club used to employ models to play tennis and hang out in the gym just to make the place more attractive. Agent Triple P has never spent so much time in a hotel gym.

Agent Triple P has been to Vietnam twice and enjoyed the company of J a local girl from a very well connected family. Like all Vietnamese girls she was slender to the point that you were scared you might crush her: easily solved by putting her on top, of course. Agent DVD may be in a dilemma here because whilst they are very lovely they may just be too skinny for him!

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Alesha: still jiggling

Alesha Dixon was particularly effective in another splendid frock (and I'm sure she is) in this weekend's Strictly Come Dancing. Jiggling about to Crazy in Love she has easily supplanted Kelly Brook for our affections. Sadly, the Strictly Come Dancing viewers, as evidenced by the BBC website forum, do not seem to like her on the basis that she: has failed to progress (she was good on day one and is still good) or, she has danced before and is not a true beginner. Well, well, Agent Triple P thinks that given most of the viewers are ugly middle aged women of course they don't like her and for the same reason they don't like Kelly Brook; she is far too attractive. Of course they prefer East Enders barrel Letitia Dean as she looks like most of them do. Sadly, we think neither Kelly nor Alesha will win and possibly not even make it to the final.

Ugly women. What is the point?
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Herbert W Spencer

Herbert Spencer and John Williams work on the score to Star Wars

Agent Triple P has always enjoyed film music. Not your nonsensical collections of tracks brought together from elsewhere, not your electronic nonsense (with a few rare exceptions) but proper orchestral scores with themes and melodies as originally espoused by composers like Erich Wolfgang Korngold. Korngold is more popular now than a few years ago when he was largely reviled for being too "Hollywood" sounding. But that was not his fault, it was Korngold that set the musical language for Hollywood at the start of the Talkies and others simply copied him. As André Previn said " A great deal of film music began to sound like Korngold, as opposed to Korngold sounding like Hollywood."

By the mid-seventies, orchestral scores for Hollywood films had virtually disappeared; even the makers of the James Bond films had dispensed with John Barry in favour of a "more up to date" sound from Broadway composer Marvin Hamlisch. But then in 1977 George Lucas commissioned John Williams to write a fully orchestrated, old-style Hollywood Score for Star Wars and, as usual in the film industry, everyone else copied every element they could in an attempt to have such a success. Overnight orchestral scores reappeared in the movies.

John Williams called on a Hollywood veteran to Orchestrate Star Wars; someone he had worked with before on The Towering Inferno (1974).

Herbert Winfield Spencer was born in 1905 in Chile but moved to California and by 1933 had orchestrated his first film. He started a long working realtionship with Alfred Newman, one of the heirs of the Korngold style and together Newman and Spencer worked on The Black Swan (1942). This film was Twentieth Century Fox's attempt to emulate the success of the Errol Flynn Warner Brothers swashbucklers for which Korngold had provided the scores. The Black Swan was nominated for the Oscar for best soundtrack (won by another Korngold influenced composer, Max Steiner, for Now, Voyager (1942)) and Spencer and Newman went on to score 24 films together.

Spencer orchestrated most of John Williams great scores: the original three Star Wars films, the three Indiana Jones films, Superman (1978), Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) and ET: the Extra Terrestrial (1982). Spencer worked on many other films after Star Wars and his orchestration of Williams underrated score for Spielbergs epic failure 1941 (1979) is particularly effective. Spencer went back to his Hollywood beginnings and orchestrated the extracts from the classic scores of Korngold used in the spoof swashbuckler Zorro: the Gay Blade (1981).

Other composers copied the Williams style for fantasy films and Spencer orchestrated one of these, Laurence Rosenthal's Clash of the Titans (1981).

Spencer's last seven films were all with John Williams and he died in 1992 aged 87. Listening to Williams scores since then there is no doubt that there is something missing compared with the Spencer orchestrated scores. At their best (Superman, The Empire Strikes Back (1980), Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984), ET) Spencer's orchestrations brought a depth and subtlety not heard in any other film scores before or since.

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Latin Babes 2: Penelope Cruz

No reason for showing these pictures of Penelope Cruz other than we found them whilst trawling for the Salma Hayek ones.

We just thought they were rather fine.

This is our favourite: nice apple!

We have always liked Penelope Cruz since we saw her in Jamón, jamón (actually this entry would have gone better with the Tapas bar one!) and Belle Epoque. There were pictures of her and her sister, Mónica, everywhere in Hollywood when we went there last month, advertising some new clothing line.

However we think she is clothed about right here. Triple P likes a girl who is dressed (however scantily) on top but undressed below. We think Agent DVD might have an opposite view!

Found out today that we have to go back to the US in about ten days. Excellent! Must call M (or maybe S or maybe other S!) Decisions, decisions!

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Latin Babes 1: Salma Hayek

Went to the Tapas Bar again for the second time this week and our favourite Brazilian girl was there again. She was feeling a bit under the weather and so we had to feel her forehead but she was nice and cool. My colleague W started explaining that we had this stuff called Vick and it needed to be rubbed in.. W is a very sound fellow and is front runner for the job that comes up at the end of March. A, the Polish girlie was looking particularly fit and was completely distracting my colleague. He is a leg man so is very complementary to my and Agent DVDs separate predilictions!

On Monday I went there with another colleague, who hasn't been there before, and two very curvy Russian Girls sat next to us and were being flirty so we had to buy them some wine. Shame we had a meeting at 2.30. Looks like Agent DVD picked the wrong week to go mountain biking in Cambodia!

Anyway, we were reading one of the free newspapers on the way home and Salma Hayek (who is one of those actresses you've heard of without actually having seen one of her films) has said that her bust is a "gift from God". When she was younger she was very flat-chested and so prayed for bigger breasts. Looks like it worked. We know Agent DVD is a big fan!

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Sophie Anderton: going down

But only if you pay £10,000 a night, apparently. Former Gossard Wonder babe Anderton has come a long way since stopping traffic with her Gossard ads in the 90s. Unfortunately, it's all been downhill. She reached bottom this week when an undercover News of the World Reporter (are there any other kind?) videoed her snorting cocaine and trying to charge £10,000 for sex. Whilst models snorting cocaine is nothing new despite the press vilification of Kate Moss (Triple P went to a Brazilian model's birthday party in Milan once and there was more coke than a MacDonalds childrens' birthday party), trying to charge £10,000 for sex is less usual.

Whilst Anderton has a good set of cheekbones and long legs what does she think she is worth? Agent Triple P can't believe that any woman is worth £10,000 for a bonk. It's Chateau Lafite syndrome: a £5,000 bottle is not really worth a 1000 times the cost of a bottle of Wolf Blass in Tesco but people will pay for the exclusivity.

Poor Sophie doesn't realise that by charging that sort of money she is torpedoeing any exclusivity she might have had.

Anyway, today she has lost a £100,000 modelling contract for a fake tan you've never heard of. It makes us very suspicious that the whole thing has been engineered so this firm can get some publicity. Or are we just being a great big cynical old Hector?

Hmm, £500 maybe. And half that in the Baltics, including a better bust. Or so we are told.

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Kate Garraway: out at last

We always liked Kate Garraway on TVAM with her splendid bust and husky voice but even Triple P could see she was a hopeless dancer. The only surprise was that the public kept her in Strictly Come Dancing for as long as they did. Even her biggest fans however could not take one more "please give me another chance" injury and another ghastly, wooden routine.

So two less reasons for watching but an end to her public humiliation.
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Carmen Kass

Arvo Pärt's birthplace of Paide, Estonia has also given us supermodel Carmen Kass.

5'10" Carmen was the face of the Christian Dior perfume, j'adore and is just the sort of skinny type that the likes of Calvin Klein, Chanel, Donna Karan, Givenchy, Fendi, and Versace were bound to sign up too.

Now 29, Carmen unsuccessfully ran for the European Parliament in May 2004 just after Estonia joined the European Union and one month before Agent Triple P was there on a mission.

Triple P was more interested in a curvy violinist at the time but sadly had to disappear to a banquet before he could really get to know her.

This leaves Estonia as the only Baltic country where we haven't collected a girlie: M from Denmark, A from Sweden, J from Finland, A from Russia, D from Latvia and of course G, R and E from Lithuania. This really is a dreadful ommission and I must try to rectify it next year.

Although she scrubs up nicely she is very much a runway model and is really too skinny for Triple P.

She does have lovely legs however and a perky bust.

However we do like this shot very much, which makes the best of her small but nicely formed assets.

She is a chess wizard and is president of the Estonian chess league.

So that's why her boyfriend is a professional chess player rather than the usual sportsman/actor/millionaire businessman.

If only she were Czech instead of Estonian we could make a dreadful joke but Estonianmate doesn't really work.
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Cantus In Memory of Benjamin Britten

Arvo Pärt: "I'm going to need a much bigger bell!"

We downloaded this from iTunes today. Agent Triple P attended the UK premier of the piece at the Proms in 1979 and Arvo Pärt was present to take a standing ovation. Agent Triple P does not like modern classical music on the whole and was expecting to detest the piece. However, he has since developed a soft spot for minimalism. We remember this music striking a chord (A minor, naturally) immediately, but for some reason we never purchased a recording of it. Playing it again we wonder why; as it is as magnificent as we remember it from nearly 30 years ago.

Perhaps it is because we find it reminiscent of the opening of Richard Strauss' Alpine Symphony but taking seven minutes to do what Strauss does in half a minute.

Most modern music premiering at the Proms disappears without trace but Estonian Pärt's piece has been very popular, being used in a number of widely seen films including Fahrenheit 9/11 and Les Amants du Pont-Neuf.

It is a classic example of a piece that tests volume control on a hifi, however, with the string orchestra starting pianississimo and ending fortississimo.
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Bidet as it may..

Agent Triple P has always enjoyed watching a girl on a bidet. They are still quite unusual in the hotels we stay in. Places influenced by the French, such as Montreal and Switzerland, have them but otherwise they are very rare.

So we have been very much enjoying, therefore, B enjoying the bidet in our bathroom. It's some strange combination of the vulnerability of the squatting pose, the tinkling water and the cold white porcelain next to naked skin that does it. Mercy me!

Agent Triple P was shattered. The combination of wall to wall meetings all day followed by wall to wall (literally, B enjoys the vertical approach) sex all night was taking its toll.

What's more he had failed to deliver on his promise to provide B with caviar. It just goes to show, as Triple P well knows, that not all 5 star hotels are equal. After all the Beverly Wilshire managed to deliver even at 1.00am (caviar is best enjoyed at decadent times and in decadent locations - in that case on a balcony overlooking Los Angeles with a bottle of Laurent Perrier).

"It's Istanbul you want for caviar!" said his new friend, Dr A, a prominent Istanbul lawyer.

Caviar is, of course, a Turkish word and Triple P has enjoyed it at relatively modest prices in hotels here (admittedly all in Istanbul) before. Although as an aphrodisiac for women it is not as potent, we find, as very good chocolate (or diamonds). Some women can't stand the thought of it. It's the egg thing. Women and eggs. Hmm. Those that like it, however, will usually be inspired to demonstrate great gratitude. B is certainly in that category.

Probably not as much as Agent DVD's favourite Monica Bellucci, however.

It now appeared that Triple P would be back in Turkey within 3 weeks visiting both Ankara and Istanbul. B would be joining him again and had rather grumpily accepted a deferred delivery. Thank goodness another pink bag of Agent Provocateur had mollified her.

Tonight was their last night together and they decided to try the other restaurant in the hotel, Brasserie One. This had rather more atmosphere than the Italian restaurant dowstairs and had a menu made up of a mixture of International and Turkish dishes.

Last night they had been taken to a very Turkish restaurant by a lady lawyer and her husband. They had had huge quantities of food none of which he knew the name of. There were things that looked like deep-fried lemons that were stuffed with red rice and vegetables, plates of rice and beans served with pickles, hot stuffed vine leaves, large grilled red chillis, bulgar wheat and tomato salad and lots and lots of grilled lamb, chicken and beef served with yoghurt, houmous and pitta bread. B's little face lit up as each succesive dish was brought to the table. The retaurant was obviously very famous as there were lots of photographs on the wall of the owner and obviously famous Turks (even rarer than famous Belgians).

The restaurant did not, however, serve alcohol, which although Triple P had come across it before, was rather unusual in Turkey. Kemal Atatürk had been a great drinker (a very great drinker he died of cirrhosis of the liver) and had encouraged the production of alcohol in Turkey.

So after their new friends dropped them off back at the hotel B insisted that they went to the trendy Copper Club in the basement. B knocked back several Raki but Triple P, who had had it before and knew it was not as innocuous as it tasted, was more measured. Some sensational looking local girls in very small dresses arrived and perched on the bar stools and within only a few minutes B suggested that now would be a good time to go upstairs.

Triple P made an appreciative comment about one of the girl's shoes on the way past, eliciting a dazzling smile, and B was frosty all the way up to the eighteenth floor.
However, when they returned to the room she discovered, that whatever the records might say, the chambermaid had worked out that there were two people staying in the room and therefore two chocolates on the pillow were needed. Having dealt with those in alarmingly short order B promptly helped herself to another Raki from the minibar and was soon back to her earlier relaxed state. However, she announced that Triple P deserved to be punished for flirting (seems unlikely) and withdrew from her bag a bunch of the sort of golden twisted silken cords that people tie around their curtains (very much shades of VA; I wonder if these curtain shops have any idea what these women use them for).

Next morning, feeling rather bruised and realising that even two Raki is two too many, he updated his blog following a rather substantial breakfast whilst a rather pale looking B went off for an 8.30am meeting.

During the day he actually had a spare 40 minutes and his driver took him to see Anitkabir, the mausoleum (another Turkish word!) of Kemal Atatürk . This was a very impressive area but even more impressive is the fact that it has had over 11 million visitors already in 2007, 546,200 of them last week on November 10th alone, the 69th anniversary of his death.

The light was particularly splendid enabling Triple P to take this photograph.

He was back in the hotel by 5.15 and was almost immediately followed by a much restored B who had recovered her usual bounce as she demonstrated for the next hour before they both retired to the bath together with several bottles of Efes beer.

They went down to dinner early so as "not to waste too much of the night", according to B. They had another large meal, in Triple P's case a Goulash soup, Penne Arrabiata and Ciz Biz; grilled slices of marinated veal served on an aubergine yoghurt salad with pitta and spicy sauce. It was sensationally good although B stole most of his leaving him to steal bits of her Germanically overdone Entrecôte. It went well with the local Sarafin Cabernet Sauvignon, however.

B seemed to be in an altogether more romantic mood than the last few days and on the way back from visiting the bathroom, while she tackled a warm chocolate cake with vanilla sauce, he managed to steal a pink carnation from a display decorating the entrance to the large IT conference in the adjoining conference centre. Triple P presented this to B with rather more flourish than it really deserved whereupon she promptly burst into tears and said no-one had given her flowers for years.

Triple P took the opportunity of asking whether he was forgiven as regards the caviar whereupon she immediately stopped sniffing , fixed him with a steely look , said "no" and then started crying again.

B was much less aggresive when they went to bed, compared with the previous nights, but no less arousing for that as she concentrated on a positively Tantric slow build up technique which, after the third time left Triple P quite literally drained.

She had to leave horribly early for her flight leaving Triple P to type this entry and wondering what to do with the pair of black, scalloped La Perla knickers she had inadvertantly left knotted up with his rompers.
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Ankara Way

Agent Triple P is typing this entry actually in (rather chilly) Ankara rather than doing so after the fact. B has left for a meeting but Triple P's first one is not until 10.30.

We were not at all sure that we would meet up at all and, indeed, we only had confirmation when B telephoned from the airport at 7.30pm on Wednesday to say she had just arrived in Ankara from Istanbul. Agent Triple P bailed out of our dreary reception early so that we would be back in the Sheraton to meet her but the local traffic conspired against us and she got to the hotel first. She said that she was starving as she hadn't eaten since a rather meagre breakfast on her flight from Frankfurt to Istanbul that morning. She was dressed in her little black cocktail dress, which she had changed into in the ladies, she said. She also mentioned, rather distractingly, that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Agent Triple P is growing ever fond of B as all her appetites are at a similar level to his.

So we decided to go straight to the hotel's Italian restaurant, Angoletto, after Triple P had deposited his bag up in his room on the 18th floor. Check in took a minute as his Gold Sheraton card let him check in on the Club Floor.

The restaurant was an all white, rather over-lit for Triple P's taste, establishment but the menu was reasonable and the wine list was not bad either. They sat down in a cozy corner (top right in the above picture). B decided they needed a starter, an intermediate course and a main course, which Triple P thought eminently sensible.

"Girls who don't eat are no good in bed!" as his old Sicilian colleague Barone A, used to say.

Given he had had an affair with this well known fifties Italian actress (confirmed by several sources) she must have been a good eater indeed.

Triple P ordered a Trittico salad of tomatoes, mozarella and avocado. B ordered Insalata Di Polpo with artichoke and olive, mushroom, caper and spicy lemon dressing.

Wine was very expensive and B berated him for not ordering something local as he usually did. However, he thought a restaurant that charged £110 for Gavi di Gavi was trying it on and the Turkish wines were unknown quantities and no cheaper that the Torres Gran Vina Sol he eventually selected.

She reminded him that he had promised her caviar at some point.

For the next course, Triple P had penne with wild mushroom and red pepper sauce. B had a seafood risotto.

She had had a bad day, having to catch the 7.25am flight from Frankfurt to Istanbul, then having an endless meeting and no lunch (Germans hate to miss lunch) and then catching the 18.30 flight to Ankara. She had had to get up at 4.50am. Triple P pointed out that he had been up at 6.30am which was really 4.30am UK time. She was not impressed and decided her day had been far more stressful than his, which no doubt explained the fast evaporating Torres and the necessity of ordering another bottle.

In order to elicit some sympathy he described the drunken girl who had molested him on the plane on the way over the previous night. She had really been quite drunk and having poked him in the shoulder from the row behind to find out the time she came forward and sat down next to him for the rest of the rather empty flight. She was flying on to Damascus and tried to persude Triple P to continue on to Syria with her. His explanation that the Syrian authorities would not look too kindly at someone turning up without a visa did not go down well and he was glad to escape the pretty, but seriously flaky, girl at Ankara's splendid new airport.

Their main courses arrived. Triple P controversially went for veal and B had the Petto di Pollo which arrived beautifully presented with fresh vegetables and saffron mash.

She pointed out that she had never seen him order veal before whereas it was one of her favourites. Triple P had always maintained that only Germanic people (and in this category he included the Milanese) could enjoy something as anodyne as veal. B liked the fact that all the blood was drained out of it. She is a dreadfully bloodthirsty girl who enjoys horrible Hollywood splatter films and becomes sexually aroused watching live bullfighting, as he had discovered on a trip to Madrid with her. He soon realised that there was no need to pay for the dodgy tv channel when you could get bullfighting for free.

In order to have something to finish the wine off with they ordered a cheese plate to share, which was just as well as it was enormous, Triple P had no idea if it was local or not but it was all very good. He was surprised that B did not order a dessert but perhaps even she had limits and she had eaten a lot of bread.

They identified only one real problem with the restaurant, as they had even turned the lights down, and that was the warbling cd of 1960's Italian pop songs which was now on its third play.

They left the restaurant and B retrieved her bag from the bell desk. B said that she had not booked a room and hoped that she was not assuming too much. Agent Triple P assured her that he could fit her in whereupon she replied that, surely, that was her line. Perilously close to a joke, from a German. As they got into the lift she did take the opportunity to remind him about the promised caviar again and he said she was easily bought. She replied that she knew that and she was a complete slut, distractingly hiking up her already short hemline enough to show that, indeed, she was not wearing any knickers. Triple P replied that of course that was the only reason he liked her, whilst hurriedly checking to make sure there were no cameras in the lift.

As they walked from the lift lobby to his room, nine doors down, B walked in front of him pulling her dress up again until it was up to her waist, revealing her pert behind. Triple P new the hotel was completely full and had a panic attack at the prospect of someone coming out of an intervening room and him being arrested for bringing a woman of ill repute into the hotel, which he was suddenly sure would be worth at least ten years in a Turkish prison. Triple P usually had trouble with hotel keycards but in that particular instant he got the card out of his wallet and into the door in nine tenths of a second, which was just as well as by the time B was half way through the doorway she had already pulled her dress completely over her head..
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