Black and White Babe of the Week 7: Cindy Crawford

The 1980s saw the rise of the supermodel. Models, who had previously been anonymous, became household names and none more so than Cindy Crawford whose distinctly atypical curves separated her from the existing stick-thin brigade. Cindy became the first supermodel to pose for Playboy and liberated her fellow supermodels to discard their clothes as often as possible. Hooray!

Agent Triple P sat next to Ms Crawford on an aeroplane once and found her completely delightful.
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Blog Hits

We are rather surprised to discover that The Adventures of Triple P is now receiving between 450 and 500 hits a day! We are under no illusion that it is our deathless prose which is attracting more attention in a day than a very expensive government website we were involved with attracts in a month. No, we well know that pictures of young ladies in a state of undress will attract such interest day after day. And, as Barry Norman probably never said, why not?
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The Lord of the Rings: The Complete Recordings


Agent Triple P has long been an aficianado of film soundtracks and thought that the John Williams scores for the original Star Wars trilogy would never be surpassed. However, we have now conceded the title of best film scores ever to Howard Shore's monumental achievement for the Lord of the Rings trilogy.


Over the last three years the original soundtrack selections have been overtaken by a series of limited edition versions of the complete scores for all three films. These are, almost certainly, the most expensive cds that Agent Triple P has ever bought. We managed to buy The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers as soon as they came out over Christmas 2005 and 2006. However the complete score for The Return of the King has proved most elusive. It appeared in late 2007 and almost immediately sold out. The record company announced that they would not be pressing another edition and we watched with disbelief as the prices on eBay approached £150 for the set. We were delighted, therefore to pick up the set for a mere £80 (frankly we would have happily paid £150) from a seller in Chicago. We had no great hopes of this set actually arriving, given the vagaries of the US Postal Service and the UK Customs and Excise, but were delighted when it arrived by FedEx today.

Howard Shore's score is the greatest achievement in film music since the original Star Wars music re-defined what a film score should be and took us back to the days of Korngold, Steiner, Waxman and Herrmann.


The three complete scores total 135 tracks and 9 hours and 58 minutes of music. Shore's use of leitmotifs is the most effective since Williams original Star Wars score and, arguably the finest use of leitmotifs since Wagner's Ring cycle (appropriately).

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Miss May: Keeley Hazell

We haven't put up Miss May yet this month as we have been very busy with other things but as June approaches we feel that we would be remiss in not marking our May Calendar girl at all. So here is Keeley Hazell, a young lady whose charms are all too apparent.

21 year old Keeley, from Lewisham, trained as a hairdresser but won a series of modelling contests including the Sun's Page 3 idol. A great favourite of the more dubious end of the lad's magazine market she has recently been hailed by David Cameron as an enviromental warrior for such eco friendly suggestions as having sex with the lights off.

Trust a BNC man to come up with a wafer thin justification for championing a young lady with very big tits. Frankly, Agent Triple P, if faced with Miss Hazell, would be quite happy to keep the lights on and pay for a few acres of trees in the Amazon for the privilege of interacting with her genuinely awe inspiring bust.

Does she look good in a vest? Oh my God!

We are convinced that Agent DVD would agree!

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The Imperial Hotel, Delhi

Nothing lifts Agent Triple P’s heart like a truly great hotel. His trip to India had yielded one very good hotel, one great hotel and one truly great hotel. Indeed, pleasant though the Taj Bengal was in Calcutta and as redolent with history as was the Taj Mahal Palace in Bombay neither of them could hold a candle to The Imperial in New Delhi.

Quite simply the Imperial had leapt straight into Triple P’s list of the top five hotels he had ever stayed in. It joined a list which included the Adlon in Berlin, The Island Shangri-la in Singapore, the Ritz in London and the Bauer-au-Lac in Zurich.
These were hotels which combined (with the exception of the Shangri-la) heritage, unrivalled dining, beautiful rooms and common parts and impeccable service. Hotels where Triple P felt at home.
They had to have a good bar which could make a top-notch Martini. They had to have a world-class restaurant. They had to have spacious rooms with excellent bathrooms. They had to have beautiful women (whether staff, guests or both) wafting elegantly about. They had to have, if it was a hot place, an excellent outdoor pool. The Imperial scored highly in all areas.

Our modest room.
The Imperial was opened in 1936 and is located on what was then Queensway, now Janpath. Designed by Lutyens it was intended to be the most luxurious hotel in the city and succeeds triumphantly. Whilst its exterior is resolutely Art Deco its interior is a blend of Art Deco, Victorian and Colonial. Literally hundreds of 18th and 19th century artworks litter the rooms and spacious corridors. All the pictures have an Indian subject and many of them have a military theme, often showing gallant British soldiers from different periods of the Raj happily skewering the locals with sword, bayonet and lance.

They don't like it up 'em!

The guests included many locals but also more westerners than Triple P had seen on his visit so far. Alarmingly, a high proportion of them seemed to be French. This, however, did have the effect of improving the scenery around the pool considerably, as leggy lovelies wearing very small bikinis sat around reading Paris Match and taking desultory swims in the pool whilst their much older (inevitably) male companions had furtive gatherings in corners of the hotel or stood in little groups inside the lobby waiting to be taken to some meeting or other.

The hotel itself was on four floors and was arranged as a square with no less than eight protruding wings, giving it somewhat the appearance of a hash mark in plan view. Unlike most hotels, considerable attention to detail had been devoted to the corridors and they gleamed with marble and polished brass.

The central corridor. The cleanest hotel area on the planet?

Indian rugs were scattered about as were interesting sculptures and pictures. Little, and not so little, alcoves were placed throughout the hotel and served to show off more splendid pictures and sculptures. Coming across them was often an unexpected joy and Triple P took time to examine the selected paintings and statues.

The lobby was restrained, compared with the typical South East Asian cavernous look of the Island Shangri-la, but led to a magnificent central corridor that went the whole length of the hotel. Most of the bars and restaurants led off from this corridor or the adjoining four storey atrium with its glassed-off roof, palms and tinkling fountains.

In fact fountains were to be found in many places, several of them being of the barely dressed girlie variety of which Triple P was rather fond.

The main restaurant, where breakfast was served was called 1911, reflecting the date when New Delhi took over the mantle of India’s capital city from Calcutta. It served typical International fare and was as informal as you would find in the hotel. Informality, however, when you were shown to your table by lovely sari clad women and then served by waiters in red military jackets and turbans, was something of a relative term. In a separate section of the restaurant was a glassed off verandah which was a splendid place to have breakfast.

Outside was a terrace which was a very good place to take afternoon tea. Whilst the temperature was 102º when Triple P was there, a nice breeze and large green umbrellas kept the conditions bearable outside.

The adjoining 1911 bar, whilst undoubtedly beautifully decorated was too brightly lit for Triple P’s taste and contained, horrors, a television which seemed to show, inevitably, constant cricket, much to the delight of the Australians who appeared to be its habitual residents.

He preferred the smaller Patiala Peg (named after the early twentieth century tent-pegging victory by the Maharaja of Patiala’s team over the Viceroy’s).

Our splendidly efficient barman

It contained only seven or eight tables, some rather daring Art Deco girlie statues and a lot of old Indian Army prints. It was also one of the few hotel bars in the world that made a Martini in a properly chilled glass.

That's the way to do it!

Daniell’s Tavern was named after landscape painters Thomas and William Daniell who arrived in India in 1786 to paint the country’s scenery. The restaurant, with its pan-Indian cuisine, is located on the exact spot where the uncle and nephew team camped to produce thei painting of Jantar Mantar and early eighteenth century observatory. Triple P had a most splendid lunch there.

Sadly, there was not time to sample San Gimignano, the Italian Restaurant, or the inclination to visit La Baguette, the patisserie. Both looked splendid, however.

His favourite restaurant had to be The Spice Route, a South East Asian restaurant that resembled a wooden temple inside. Outside there was a stunning courtyard with pool and pagoda for al fresco dining. Recently voted by Conde Nast International traveller as one of the ten best restaurants in the world and that week having received another award for best ambience, Triple P could not think of a better place to entertain a young lady. Which he did, twice!

Outside, a short walk through the palm-filled gardens, was the pool. The palms gave good shade to part of the poolside and there was a small bar which could supply Kingfisher beer and substantial snacks. Triple P and his companion had hot Chicken Tikka and onion sandwiches in thin Indian bread which were just excellent. Service from the crisply uniformed staff was friendly and impeccable.

All in all Triple P cannot recommend The Imperial highly enough and we will just finish by saying that we venture that it is indeed the finest hotel we have ever stayed in anywhere in the world.

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A taste of Mexican, German and Indian in Poland

Agent Triple P seemed to be visiting Poland increasingly often. His first visit had been six years ago and he had found Warsaw to be a gray and dreary city full of characterless, Soviet era concrete blocks; all traces of its history having been pummelled into the dust by either the Germans or the Russians.

Now the centre of the city was seeing some glittering modern buildings go up in the area close to the astonishing Palace of Culture and Science; built in the early fifties and still the seventh tallest building in the EU. Even his hotel, the Inter-Continental, had been renovated since his last visit.

His previous visit to Poland, last summer, had been to Starachovice in the South East and the first day on this trip had been in Lodz in the South West. Whilst the hotel in Starachovice had been quite pleasant the Centrum hotel in Lodz had been one of the worst he had ever stayed in anywhere, ever.

Hotel Horror
It was an ugly, tatty concrete monolith opposite the station with a bizarre attempt at an Art Deco lobby. When Triple P had arrived in the hotel there were two bored looking staff taking up two of the bar’s three stools and watching the Polish version of Strictly Come Dancing.

Oddly, the view from his room was of a rather nice church but the room itself was exactly the sort you would expect to take cheap prostitutes back to.

Sadly, not a cheap prostitute in sight.

Co-incidentally after a pleasant dinner in a trendy new Polish country-style restaurant in Lodz with I, his local contact, as they made their way back to the hotel they came across two, rather attractive in a stringy sort of way, cheap prostitutes having a catfight over who should be on the prime corner (I kindly translated their dialaogue). Triple P mused as to how much they would want to carry on their catfight naked in his room but I refused to translate his request for them.

But that had been yesterday and now Triple P was sitting in the Inter-Continental’s One Bar drinking a very good Vodka Martini and waiting for his particular friend B who had kindly shifted her schedule so they could meet up that evening. Triple P’s Martini was made with Wyborowa Equisite, a new premium brand for the traditional Polish (but French owned) firm. Wyborowa, of course, means “exquisite” in Polish so the name was completely tautologous. Some people claim that using better ingredients in a mixed drink was a waste but they, of course, are idiots. Using better ingredients improves the finished drink considerably.

He was just taking his second sip when in floated B in a cloud of Davidoff Clear Water. As she sat down she placed an order with the waitress in Polish. Triple P expressed surprise at her ability to speak the language and she replied that many German people spoke Polish. Unfortunately, Agent Triple P’s comment about that being useful if the Germans ever wanted to take up residence again was met with one of her unnerving stares, which always felt rather like one was being scanned by a Terminator robot.

B’s drink materialised; that ghastly looking crimson concoction that could only be that girlie drink in excelsis, the Cosmopolitan. When he gave her a quizzical look she explained that she didn’t really like Vodka Martinis as they made her feel strange. Triple P explained that was precisely why he encouraged women to drink them.

They ate in the Inter-Continental’s Mexican Restaurant, Frida Kahlo, which was decorated with lots of garish reproductions of the Mexican painter’s (and Trotsky’s mistress) work. Unusually, they both ate the same thing; sopa de tortilla and beef, chicken and shrimp fajitas. Triple P was somewhat alarmed by the huge bowl of tortilla chips with dips that arrived as an appetiser but fortunately B demolished most of them. They had a 2000 Cabernet Sauvignon Malbec from Baja California. It took a little while to breathe and probably should have been decanted but eventually yielded a raisiny fruit which overcame the tannin.

They retired to his room which was a considerable improvement on the one in Lodz and would no doubt have impressed two cheap prostitutes enough to fight naked.

Later, sharing a bubble bath, B quizzed him on his plans for his forthcoming trip to India. Triple P regaled her with details of his programme, seminars and hotels but was interrupted by B grabbing a sensitive part of his anatomy and explaining that what she actually wanted to hear about were his plans for female company. Was “one of your other women going?”, as she put it, as she was wondering about whether she should travel to India as well. Triple P admitted he was unattached and would be delighted to see her there, especially as he had two clear days in Delhi at the end of the visit. As in this case, Triple P had often found that by staying over on a Saturday night the airfare was reduced by such a large amount that the cost of the hotel stay was more than compensated by the saving on the airfare.

B thought it would be appropriate if she bought a copy of the Kama Sutra so that they could try to work through it during the visit.

Not as easy as it looks.
Triple P pointed out that there were 64 positions within the text and exploring them all would take some time; at least two or three weeks. B replied by saying that it was not necessary to engage in only one position per session and she was sure that they could get through five or six at a time. Triple P had read the translation by Sir Richard Burton and explained that the descriptions of the positions were brief and not always very clear. B said that there were many illustrated versions and that would save considerable research and experimental time. If they grouped the positions into similar types it should be possible to quickly move from one to the other. Her take on the whole suggestion was typical of a Teutonic project manager, he thought. Triple P pointed out that many of the positions required some athleticism to which she replied that he had better start working out then as she was confident of her flexibility. Something that she then demonstrated most impressively over the subsequent hour.
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Ferrari 250 California sold for £5 million

The actual car sold yesterday.

Well, after last week's announcenment of a new Ferrari California a 1961 Ferrari 250 California Spyder Short Wheel Base has just broken the record for the most expensive car ever. The black model was one of only 56 made and was formerly owned by actor James Coburn and sold for £5 million.

All well and good but it was bought by ginger-horror DJ Chris Evans. How did Chris Evans get £5.5million (with buyers premium) to spend on a car? It's still no compensation for not having Billie Piper as your girlfriend any more!
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Black and White Babe of the Week: 6

Well, Agent Triple P has just returned from a very short trip to Paris so felt that this chracteristically French photo by faux verité snapper Jean-François Jonvelle was appropriate. Jonvelle claims to shoot many "ordinary" girls, many of whom are or have been his girlfriends, but as he is a top photographer most of his girl friends tend to be models, so not exactly the girl next door.
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New Ferrari California

Ferrari have announced a new "baby" Ferrari, the California, today. The original Californias were versions of the 250 designed for the US market. The one I remember most was from the Pink Panther film where a silver one was driven by Robert Wagner. So does the new version have the harmonious poise of the original?

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Dita von Teese

It was Agent DVD's birthday recently and not knowing what to get the man who has everything I settled on a book called Burlesque and the Art of the Teese by Dita von Teese who has, over the last decade, successfully rehabilitated old fashioned striptease into a Sunday supplement friendly cabaret turn.

More cocktails should come with miniature girls.

Agent DVD had expressed admiration for Ms Teese in the past so we were delighted to find him something he did not have for his birthday.

I had not seen Ms Teese in action but after some research on the internet, and seeing Ms Teese's performances, Agent Triple P considers that any girl who strips off and then splashes around in a giant Martini glass whilst squeezing water all over herself with a giant sponge-rubber olive is a very good thing indeed.

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It's Summer!

Or, possibly, the Spring, as we don't seem to have had one of those yet. Anyway, today it is warm and sunny in London and the babes have made their first showing of the season. The coats and sweaters have been discarded and they are all out in their abbreviated finery. A very good day for Agents DVD and PPP to go scenery spotting on the South Bank, I think.
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