Yachty Totty at Cowes Week

Triple P has had a request for more yachty totty (or is it yachtie tottie?) so here are some pictures we took at Cowes.  We are just back from Cowes Week, the world's biggest yachting regatta, where the scenery was enlived by the usual influx of Sloane Rangers down to race or, more likely, just watch and shop whilst Giles, Dominic, Jonty, Hugo etc. raced.

Equally inevitably, busloads of local "talent" (we use the term loosely and loose is as good a description as any) arrive at the Red Jet terminal on the number 1 bus from Newport every night in ridiculously high heels and short skirts looking for likely looking men who can buy them drinks.  They are usually ludicrously over made up in the hope that people won't recognise the fact that ther are mostly under age.

The local girls, we are sorry to report, may have good figures (some of them really do) and nice brown legs (the Isle of Wight has a better sunshine record than most of the rest of Britain) but can be less attractive than their "overner" sisters. 

Now there are some pretty girls from the island; Triple P worked with one many years ago who was quite gorgeous, but, on the whole, they largely fall down in the face department.  This is because there is a recognisable Isle of Wight profile, where the slope of the forehead continues straight into the nose, giving them the same profile as a Norman helmet.  There is, we are afraid, something vaguely Neanderthal about it. 

It may well be because they are more inbred; given the surprising lack of adventurous spirit as regards travelling off the island to the mainland (or the North Island as they refer to it). Even travelling from, say, Bembridge in the east to Yarmouth in the west (about twenty miles) is viewed as something akin to HM Stanley's expedition down the Congo.

Anyway, some of these young ladies may be locals but we suspect that most of them are not.  The local girls tended to appear at twilight (they are very much crepescular creatures) when the light was too poor for photography.

This specimen demonstrates the "just off the Red Jet" (fast catamaran from Southampton) look, with no effort made to dress like a yachty as yet.

Soon, no doubt, she will look like this.

Shorts were very much the thing this year (not surprisingly for a sailing event) but the new development was the ubiquity of denim shorts which, unusually, were adopted by the local "shazzers" as well as the yachties.  Shazzers, for our overseas readers, is a derogatory term in the UK derived from the name Sharon as Sloanes believe that most lower class girls are called either Sharon or Tracy.

One ridiculous aspect of some of the denim shorts on display was that they were obviously cut-off jeans and, therefore, had the pocket linings hanging down below the hem of the shorts.  This, we feel, looks just ludicrous!

Denims are not really the thing for Cowes Week (they don't work with salt water very well) but we thought this young lady (below) carried off her skinny jeans very effectively.  Of course nicely toned thighs work wonders.

The more authentic sailing look is better exemplified by these two.  The "blonde" hair, as can be seen by looking at most of the other examples in this post is, of course,  de rigeur.

Finally, it was pretty windy this year which is excellent for sailing (although we admit to sitting out the 48 knot winds on one of the days in the second half of the week in favour of cooking a coq au vin) but not so good for encouraging girls to strip off and sunbathe.

Away from Cowes, in a rather more sheltered spot down the coast, we did come across these two fine examples decorating a motor boat.  Motor boat girls are different in many ways from their wind propelled cousins and we may examine them another day if, as seems likely, we return for the Cowes-Torquay-Cowes powerboat race.

A fine way to end...

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Hyatt Chinese take-out

Agent Triple P is interested to read about the Hollywood Writers strike as almost exactly a month ago he was standing in a bar talking to a girl who was explaining the whole "gathering storm" as she put it, from an insider's perspective.

Agent Triple P had just finished a particularly successful visit to the Western United States and was spending the last night of his stay in the somewhat dreary Hyatt Century Plaza in West Hollywood. For reasons that are too complicated to explain Triple P ended up staying in this hotel twice in a week.

Century City is a development of offices, hotels and shopping malls built on the site of the old Twentieth Century Fox backlot. Fox lost so much money on Cleopatra in the sixties that they had to sell off the backlot to keep the studio afloat. The studio itself is just around the corner and the HQ of MGM overlooks the hotel grounds.

The Hyatt is a typical, dull convention hotel with very little to recommend it. The restaurant, Breeze, is one of those that serves breakfast, lunch and dinner and is, as a result, rather canteen like.

The food was actually not bad but the lack of clientele in the evening showed that it was not exactly the place to be seen in. Agent Triple has rarely found a hotel restaurant that serves breakfast that is any good as an evening venue. Usually he prefers the sort of hotel dining room that is not open except in the evening. The size and ambience of a place that has to cater to several hundred people wanting breakfast is not the same as somehere that serves 40 or 50 for dinner.

The pool area too was rather disappointing. It was rather bleak, the pool itself was small and there was no real shade anywhere near it.

Our room was quite reasonable, that said, although perhaps a little dull. It was, however, spacious and well equipped with wireless internet, a rather good iPod speaker system and had a balcony. Although as the view consisted largely of office buildings it was not really a place to linger. Originally, we suspect, you could see the Hollywood Hills from the hotel but they managed to put a vast building in front of it fairly recently.

That said, looking through this rather odd hole in the building opposite, if you were on the ground floor, you could see the Hollywood sign in the distance.

The bathroom was good with a nicely finished vanity unit. Something Agent Triple P always needs!

Anyway, back to the girl. I had been having a wash-up dinner with my colleague and we decided to pop into the bar afterwards. Now it was not particularly late, perhaps 9.00pm on a Friday night. There are two bars in the hotel: the rather sterile lobby bar, which, given the height of the ceiling and the width of the lobby, was not exactly cozy and a much better place called the X bar. This, it turned out was popular with the more technical Hollywood people from Fox and MGM. When we arrived the place was heaving and we had to sit in the less frantic area with sofas behind the eponymous "X".

Having rapidly demolished a Martini my colleague suggested we move to the bar to "try to pick up women". Now by this time we had had a very succesful week business-wise and were starting to believe in our undoubted brilliance. We had also discovered that American women seemed fascinated by English men in suits and we had both had our cufflinks twiddled, ties fondled and shirts stroked by literally dozens of women in hotels and airports across California, Nevada and Arizona.

Agent Triple P, however, was not that confident. He had already met up with his American friend M, earlier in the week and unexpectedly hooked a lady cardiologist (more of which another day) in Beverly Hills. He was, in other words, quite happy to call it a night. My colleague was in a more predatory mood, however, and so we found two seats at the bar. No sooner had we placed our order than we were suddenly outflanked by two local girls. They were, of course, intrigued by our accents. My colleague's girl (the sorting procedure took seconds) was a photographer, towards the larger end of the spectrum with short platinum dyed spiky hair. Very arty. "My" young lady was a Chinese-American with dyed blonde hair (I always think it looks rather curious on a Chinese) who worked for one of the film technicians unions. Agent Triple P found it rather odd to be discussing union matters but then S was so vivaciously charming that we were quite happy to be convincingly liberal for a few hours. Agent Triple P bought the young lady several glasses of Champagne and she was getting engagingly tactile. However, even we were surprised when she hopped off her bar stool at midnight, grabbed Agent Triple P by the wrist and announced to my colleague and his friend "goodnight, we are going to bed!"

And go to bed we did where young (under thirty) S performed with enormous enthusaism and not a little enjoyable Asian kinkiness. We had breakfast together and we checked out together where I managed to grab this illicit photo. Unfortunately, she moved her head at the wrong time so looks blurred but perhaps that is just as well. Not blurred are her two best features. We think we can honestly say that S had the best bust we have ever encountered: perky, pert, pointy and many other words beginning with "p".

Altogether an unexpectedly enjoyable finale to a great week.

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Eskimo Girl

Eskimo Girl was on the train again today. She is always asleep and always wearing her parka with the hood up. However, she always wears the most abbreviated tops under the parka so as to display her Agent DVD-worthy bust. There is something about the contrast between the winter top clothes and the lacy summer underthings which works in so many ways; although it's more a reflection of the sort of weather we are having, in reality. She is also very attractive in the sort of grumpy way I like. She gets off at Wimbledon and always wakes up just as the train is pulling in to the platform. Clever.

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Finnish Parks

Agent Triple P has recently returned from Helsinki (the second most northerly national capital-after Reykjavik) where he did not feel too well during his last day. He is not sure if it was too much South African sauvignon blanc, the previous night's roast reindeer or the depredations of B who is now safely back in Frankfurt. Feeling a little delicate after saying goodbye to B, therefore, I took a walk in the park opposite the hotel. Not much of a park we have to say but it had a lake and trees and those outcroppings of rocks that pop up in the most unexpected spots all over the city.

However the main attraction of the park was the dozens of nearly naked Finnish girls taking advantage of the rare hot sun. Rare is the operative word given that they are all very fair-skinned and hot sun seems to take them unawares (now there is a thought). Most of them would have been well cooked by the time I got to the airport. All they would then need is someone to rub olive oil into their skin..

Toned but toasting..

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"Ludivine"..

..was on the train again this morning. I decided to sit in a different carriage so I didn't stare at her. Actually I think she is prettier than the real Ludivine..

It's the evil temporary PA's birthday today. She's driving me mad but I bought her some chocolates in Fortnum's today, which seemed to calm her down for a couple of hours at least. No doubt she will be back to her usual insane self before long: picking fights with everyone else in the office, talking too much and bragging on about the Japanese Ambassador. Never mind S comes back in a couple of weeks: if she doesn't get kidnapped in Bogata, that is. Hooray! Counting the days.

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A nice blonde..

..sat opposite me on the train today. She wasn't beautiful but had the sort of interesting face I like: strong nose, long neck, healthy complexion, small, rather narrow mouth but with pouty lips and rather grumpy demeanour. She was wearing trainers, black ski pants (a clue to her complexion?) and a cotton vest over which she had another white top. Distractingly, halfway through the journey she pulled the white overtop off (revealing a nice slice of tummy) to put another thicker top on. Then she fell asleep.

She reminded me of Ludivine Sagnier who is also not conventionally beautiful but has a fantastic figure. I bet she would look nice by a Swimming Pool!

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The Adventure Begins..

I have other blogs under another name but only here will I be able to waffle on about anything I like and post pictures of anything that takes my fancy.

One thing certainly took my fancy today. My fellow Agent, DVD, turned up on the train this evening with a very splendid colleague who we shall call Zoe. A fine looking young woman with dark hair, a strong nose and one of those Nigella Lawson type figures. Shplendid! Wonder where they were off to together?

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