‘Tis The Season

It’s heading towards springtime, which means the racing season in Britishland is getting underway — and we all know that “racing season” equates to “Train Smash Women On The Hoof”…well, except for the first race on the calendar (Cheltenham, in Oxfordshire), wherein the ladies as a rule are more, shall we say, restrained.  Of course, the fact that it was a.) chilly and b.) pouring with rain might have helped maintain a little decorum:


Even Liz Hurley was quite discreet — and how often can one say that?

Of course, Kim’s Latest Object Of Desire looked, well, Carol-some:

…and Top Gear’s Grand Tour’s Richard Hamster (and Mrs. Hamster) were likewise dapper:

Of course, there were those who didn’t get the memo:

But overall, it seemed as though everyone had a good time:

Next up, however, is Liverpool’s Aintree.  I can hardly wait…


If you like gorgeous photographs, look at these.  My favorite is this one: it’s a detail, not the full thing (which wouldn’t have fitted on the page).

The last time I saw lighting like that, it was in a Rembrandt painting.  The photographer is Chris Fletcher, who apparently first picked up a camera in 2011.  (I’m not an envious type by nature, but there are limits…)

Bad Hair Days

I have long thought that when famous women don’t look fabulous (when they’re doing Celebrity Things, i.e. when they’re supposed to look fabulous), it’s because someone in their entourage (stylist, hairdresser, whatever) is gay and secretly hates women.

Here’s an example.  We are all familiar with the unbearably-cute Amy Adams, but I have to say that she looks a lot less  cute when she has this hairstyle:

In fact, she looks downright plain with her lustrous red hair pulled back into that severe don’t-care-housewife ponytail.  Compare that photo, then, with this one:


Marked improvement, n’est-ce pas?

And let’s not even talk about what she looks like when posed:

Quod erat demonstratum.  No malignant influence there.

Random Totty

She started off getting a first-class university degree.  Then she went around the world seeking out unexploded ordinance, and became a bomb disposal expert, neutralizing forgotten minefields.  After that, she “dated” (had a brief but intense affair with) Prince Harry (back when he had balls).  Then she appeared on some stupid Brit “reality” show and became really famous when she shagged her “boyfriend” on TV.  (In mitigation, they are still together, several years later)

Meet Camilla Thurlow:

Frankly, I think ol’ Harry lost out, big time.