Eurovision: British Contestant Jade Ewen

Jade Ewen: really rather gorgeous

Agent Triple P loves the Eurovision Song Contest with all its scantily clad Eastern European girlie singers, terrible music and rabid regional nationalism. Great Britain has wisely refused to take it seriously for years and this seems to be the BBCs take on why we haven't won (or even got into the top ten) for years. They argue that by employing Lord Lloyd-Webber to write the UK entry we will prove our seriousness to the people of Europe and they will vote on the quality of the song not on regional bias.

Hmm. There are several problems with this theory. The first being that we don't believe Lord Lloyd-Webber could write a catchy Eurovison tune if he tried. To our ears most of his music is rather dreary and derivative. Occasionally he pulls out a big theatrical ballad but whether that style will work in Eurovision is doubtful. Agent Triple P would have gone with Xenomania producing something for Girls Aloud. That might have had a chance. Secondly, nearly everyone in Europe hates us. For the Iraq war. For the Cold War. For the Cod War. For beating them in numerous other wars in history. This year's Eurovision song contest is in Moscow. Does the BBC really thing that all those ex-Soviet states are going to vote for anyone than their big, friendly ex-comrade down the road?

In typical BBC fashion they held a competion to choose the UK artist for whom his Lordship would write the song. We watched as they filmed all the rehearsals and got down to a final few. Then, suspiciously, a last minute entry called Jade Ewen popped up having not featured in any of the rounds at all. She is not exactly an unkown either, as she has had no less than two record contracts in the past and is a TV actress.

Oh well, perhaps it is right that we undertake a bit of skullduggery to get a good entrant or we will end up with something like last year's singing dustman (nul points again). Despite obviously being the class of the final six Jade ended up in the sing off last week. Surely the BBC wouldn't have put her in this position deliberately so the panic stricken public would make sure that they voted for her in the final? Frankly, until the TV companies get these TV voting shows scrutinised by proper auditors (like the National Lottery does) we aren't going to believe any of these results.

Neverthess, Jade is a not bad singer and certainly is a quite spectacular looking young lady. His Lordship seems particularly taken with her. Perhaps he can see her adorning his collection with some of his other splendid nudes.

So we look forward to Moscow on May 16th with interest. The dopey Europeans actually seem to admire his Lordship so maybe he, rather than Jade, will attract the votes, especially as he has said he will accompany her on the piano (in his dreams). There is only one slight problem. Jade is what the Americans would call a "woman of colour". This is not popular in much of Europe where there are many countries, we are afraid, who still demonstrate levels of racism that would enbarrass Alf Garnett. Not mentioning any names (large arid country famous for also not respecting bulls and donkeys).

Good luck then, Jade. Wear a very short skirt because you can carry that off and it may pull in a few more votes from the Baltics and they certainly need cheering up at the moment given the way their economies have tanked!

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A little something for the summer..

We are getting a young lady intern for the summer from Agent Triple P's alma mater. Said lady is 20 and currently studying at one of the colleges we weren't very welcome at when we were there. We are off to Oxford to take her to lunch in a few weeks and are looking forward to visiting the city once more. We will try to fit in a visit to the Ashmolean as well.

We are very much looking forward to it!

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To boldly go..

There's no way you'll get a sample this big sent up, nurse!

So, Majel Barret Roddenberry's ashes are going to be launched into space with husband Gene's. Hmm. Majel, better known as Nurse Christine Chapel from Star Trek (note not "classic" Star Trek or "original" Star Trek it's just "Star Trek"), died last month at the age of 78. Oddly, most of Gene had already been blasted into space but some had been held back for just this occasion so they could boldly go together. This is an interesting concept. Perhaps we could reserve a few teaspoons of ourselves to be distributed amongst our official companions around the world. Actually, we have always been keen on a Viking ship-borne immolation (even if it's not very authentic) at sea but also like the idea of being buried with a bizarre selection of grave goods to fox future archeologists. We would love our Baywatch Barbie being interpreted as a scale model of a loved one. Perhaps in the case of Swedish A is wouldn't be too far off.

Cool rocket (a Taurus) though

Anyway, Celestis, the firm behind this idea, only ever launches between 1 and 7 grammes of ashes per person due to weight considerations. If it crashes before reaching orbit (like the one with Star Trek's Mr Scott, James Doohan did a couple of years ago) they just dig out another gramme or so and put it in the next launch. The rocket orbits the earth for a somewhere between 2 and 240 years and them plummets back to Earth when the orbit degrades disappearing in the atmosphere (a cremated creamation).

Frankly, we would only sign up for this sort of thing if we were guaranteed to fly ever deeper into space with the possibility of being discovered by new life and new civilisations. Well, it turns out that they are planning this for next year at a cost of $12,500 per gramme. They have also blasted one onto the moon on a NASA probe in 1999 with a few grammes of Dr Eugene Shoemaker (a space expert we remember from the James Burke days of Moon landing TV) on board and plan to do more next year by putting capsules aboard a couple of privately funded moon probes for only $9,995. The cheapy orbital option is a bargain $2,495. I wonder how many grammes they can get on one launcher?

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Oyster cards.

Bruddy fing!

Is it just us or are those annoying Oyster cards getting more and more unreliable? Every day now we approach a London Underground ticket barrier only have to pull up at the last second so we don't crash into the person in front as their Oystercard hasn't registered. Alright, there are the idiots who hope that the reader can see into their pocket or through their purse or handbag but just normal ones being used properly seem to be getting stuck more and more. Sort it out Boris! Get a blooming move on!

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Diana Vickers knocked over in nightclub. Not.

Music loving security men deal with quacking menace

Well, according to Yahoo News 17 year old X-Factor loser Diana Vickers was "knocked to the floor" by a man on stage at a club last night. Diana has what might be politely called a "unique" singing style. In fact, she sounds like a duck with half a dozen Brussels sprouts trapped in her throat. Played backwards. Singing in Serbo-Croat.

Put them away, you're seventeen!

In fact, if the "journalist" writing the story had bothered to watch the accompanying video he or she would have seen a dozy idiot trying to put his arm around her and Diana being bundled out the way by fat security men who did more damage to her than the person they were trying to remove. She was bent double (not knocked to the floor) because one of the bouncers crashed into her in his race to get hold of the miscreant before his fellow bouncer. Perhaps they get a "first collar" bonus or something.

Phew, she's not singing!

Probably the whole man on stage thing was a publicity stunt to try to extend her rapidly running out 15 minutes of fame.

If journalists are one of the the lowest forms of life then what are internet journalists? Slightly below estate agents and investment bankers but unlike them they show no sign of decreasing in numbers, sadly.

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Calendar Girl January: Bar Refaeli

We rather gave up on Calendar girls last year due to the rather manky selection in our calendar. This year, however, thanks to C, we have 12 months of top class Sports Illustrated lovelies to look forward to!

Bar Refaeli may sound like a drinking establishment on the Costa Smeralda but she is in fact Israel's top model and the girlfriend of chubby "heart throb" Leonardo di Caprio.

Lovely Bar (even in Israel it's considered a bit of an odd name) has been modelling since she was one year old and is still only 23. A couple of years ago she got into trouble for avoiding her Israeli national service by marrying a family friend and then immediately divorcing him. "Why is it good to die for our country? What, isn't it better to live in New York?" she said sensibly, but this didn't go down at all well in Israel. Shame as she would have looked splendid in uniform.

This year Bar appears in her first film a thriller called "Session" with a cast of actors you have never heard of. No doubt she is hoping for an acting career. The odds aren't good: has she ever seen Cindy Crawford in Fair Game (1994)?

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When Goblins Come!

Agent Triple P's mother always told him that if your Christmas decorations weren't put away by 12th Night they would turn into goblins. We were shocked to see that yesterday, two days late, St Paul's Cathedral still had it's Christmas tree up. They really should know better! Now EC 4 will be infested with goblins (other than those that work in the Stock Exchange, of course).

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UFO hits Wind turbine

Or it did if you believe The Sun anyway. Dozens of people saw strange orange lights over Lincolnshire before one hit the turbine in Conisholme on Sunday. No aerial collisions have been reported and the Ministry of Defence is not investigating, which may, of course mean that they have a plane hidden away with a big dent in it. Wind turbine insurance experts (there are such people?) claim that these things do just sling a blade once in a while. Odd that the turbine generating people, therefore, claim they have never seen anything like it. But then if you were trying to plant these noisy, ugly things all over the planet the last thing you would want to admit is that they occasionally just disintegrate, chucking tons of blade all over the coutryside. UFOs sound like a much better thing to hide behind. As for the witnesses, well Lincolnshire must be the most boring county in Britain so no doubt that's the reason the locals are so keen to jump on the Sun's UFO wagon.

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Bin laden

What we really need!

The council have announced that Triple P is to be provided with yet another waste bin. We already have three: for general rubbish, garden rubbish and recycling (or shipping stuff to China so they can bury it in a hole instead, as it is more correctly known). Now we have to have a bin for "food waste" as well. Frankly Triple P is sick of all this multiple bin, save the planet, purported recyling nonsense. It's all getting too much and is driving us mad!

Firstly, you have to bully supermarket checkout staff to give you a carrier bag so we don't choke turtles. It's not actually saving our flippered friends (whose only purpose on earth is as soup anyway) because we use the supermarket bags in our waste bin. If there were no supermarket bags we would just have to buy alternative plastic bags for the bin! All it does is save big stores millions of pounds a year!

Secondly, yesterday it was announced that you won't be able to get 100 watt bulbs any longer, as we have previously reported. What we hadn't realised is that the replacement "green" ones are all fluorescent, which cast that horrible flickering light that causes eyestrain, headaches and makes everywhere look like a Lithuanian massage parlour (we imagine). It's all part of Mr Gordon Brown's plans to have us groping around in the stygian gloom as part of his campaign to abolish fun (it also means you won't be able to read all the bad news in the newspaper either). You cannot have a romantic interlude under fluorescent lighting!

Thirdly, everyone knows all this recycling nonsense only works if someone can make money out of it, which they can''t at present. The one good thing about it is that the China syndrome actually achieves what we should have done all along, just dump our rubbish on less worthy countries (China is ideal).

What is the point of being a major industrialised G8 nation if you can't live how you want to? Let the other useless countries of the world save the planet. Yes it's bad luck that they have to cut back but it's their fault for not starting the industrial revolution, bringing the rule of law to most of the world and inventing antibiotics. They are the ones who are breeding the world to destruction, the least they can do is stop using plastic bags and normal light bulbs so we don't have to, the ungrateful bunch. The least they can do is bury our rubbish in their ghastly countries.

Grr!

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Seven Years of Havoc ahead!

Transport for London have announced that work on Tottenham Court Road Station to accommodate Crossrail will take until 2016 to complete. Wonderful! It's bad enough having to commute to this overcrowed rat hole every day as it is but now we will have seven years of disruption, dust, temporary closures and noise. Even worse is the proposal that the main parking area for lorries servicing the site will be visible from the window of my office!

Grr!

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Lost Babes: Cindy Morgan

Cindy in Tron

Disney has just announced the lead actor in the sequel to Tron (1982). It seems completely pointless to do a sequel to a film from 26 years ago the only point of which was to demonstrate the (then) cutting edge computer animation. CGI is so common now we cannot imagine that they could produce anything to rival the impact the original had.

Gorgeous!

Also, for Triple P, much of the impact was down to the luminously beautiful Cindy Morgan whose bizarre computer enhanced catsuit only served to emphasise her perfect visage.

Fancy a suck?

Prior to Tron she had famously stripped off for the intermittently funny Caddyshack (1980) where she played a character with the splendid name of Lacey Underall. Actually much sexier was her thumb sucking scene. Several years ago we went on a business trip to Portugal with a young lady who sucked her thumb. It was most distracting!

There was a man there who could have photographed her properly! Shame!

The producers of this film had a Playboy photographer on set during her naked scene to catch Cindy's undeniable charms but, sadly for posterity, she kicked him off. Now, of course, after a none too stellar career, the highlight of which was a 16 episode stint on California vinyard soap Falcon Crest, she is talking to Playboy at the age of 52.

Cute!

Nevertheless, in her prime she was a splendid creature and still looks pretty good today!

Still cute

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Linda Lusardi in 999 M-way panto shocker

Can I use the motorway hard shoulder if I'm late? "Oh no you can't!" "Oh yes I can!" etc.

Linda Lusardi, the former Page 3 model and re-invented actress, presenter and reality TV "star" has been in trouble this week with Hertfordshire Constabulary for dialling 999 to ask if she could drive on the hard shoulder of the M25 because heavy traffic was making her late for her pantomime performance at High Wycombe theatre. Well, I suppose she at least asked permission but really it's hardly an emergency. She didn't want to disappoint her "fans" by not turning up to the performance.

This begs the question does she have any fans? We suppose she must have as she was voted best Page 3 Girl ever (mistakenly, surely?) in 2005 by "readers" of The Sun.

Quite scary, really.

Now, unlike Agent DVD who appreciates what Triple P's school Geography teacher, Spiny Norman, used to call "knockers like watermelons" (he was of a West Country origin and sounded like one of the Wurzels or that particularly unkempt archaeologist on Time Team) Agent Triple P has never been that impressed with the concept of Page 3 Girls. Most of the pictures were taken by a photographer called Beverley Goodway (a name which makes him sound like a James Bond girl) who worked on Page 3 for 33 years and Linda was his favourite model. Goodway had an amazing talent for taking an attractive girl and photographing them in such a way that he managed to remove any ounce of sex appeal from them. Rather curious for a glamour photographer but that's obviously what Sun "readers" wanted.

Linda Lusardi, in particular, held no appeal at all, as far as Triple P was concerned. Just a bust, a lot of teeth and a pair of those rather unfortunate "bubble" cheeks that look like they have been stuck on as a prosthetic appliance.

As she reinvented herself as a family favourite, post Page 3, she took to denying that she had ever done any fully nude work but in the world of the internet it is difficult to hide your past and it was soon revealed that she had posed nude for both Mayfair and the even more down-market Fiesta in 1977 at the age of nineteen. Not only that but flashing her bits as well.

Lusardi appeared on last year's Dancing on Ice to fulfill the quotient in such shows of including a rather tubby middle-aged woman for the rather tubby middle-aged female audience to identify with. The problem was that she skated with all the grace of a cow with spongiform encephalopathy but despite this she survived to finish sixth (out of 13). Perhaps she has fans after all. Even Triple P appreciates this subtle shot...

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Christmas: something welcome, something not...

The new covers. Shplendid!

Agent DVD appeared out of the murky January gloom, on his stealth bomber like bicycle, yesterday afternoon. Now Agent DVD should be in a position of great favour at present. After all, he got us a superb Christmas present: the entire Ian Fleming James Bond books collection in their spiffy new retro covers. Agent Triple P hasn't read these for, perhaps, 30 years (one or two he hasn't read at all) and has never actually owned them so they will liven up many a dreary business trip this year (looks like Libya first, unfortunately, where James Bond is no doubt banned).

However, nearly all his karma points are lost because of the injection, like a virulent bio-agent, into the household of the Andy Williams Christmas fucking Album (as it is now officially know between Agent Triple P and his Canadian friends (one of whom kindly gave me the far more welcome and splendid Playboy: the Celebrities book)).

Actually having this abomination played all the way through makes us realise that "It's the most wonderful time of the year" is a positive highlight compared with much of the teeth rottingly sugary candy dross of the rest of the album. "Silver Bells" possibly taking the Smartie covered biscuit as the most musically inept and annoying song on there. It's as if someone had said, "Let's write a Christmas standard!" and then totally failed.

Aargh! The pain continues...

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