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Nigella Lawson rowed in public with Charles Saatchi.
In photographs published in a Sunday newspaper, the television chef appears to have become embroiled in a violent dispute with the wealthy art dealer.
The couple were sitting outside Scott’s in Mayfair, central London, when he appeared to lean over and grab her by the throat.
Lawson, 53, looked terrified before leaving the restaurant alone in floods of tears.
A witness told the Sunday People: “It was utterly shocking to watch.
“I have no doubt she was scared. It was horrific, really. She was very tearful and was constantly dabbing her eyes. Nigella was very, very upset. She had a real look of fear on her face.”
The witness added: “He looked guilty. It was clear he knew he’d done something wrong. He was menacing, there’s no question. She had been abused and humiliated in public.
“No man should do that to a woman. She raised her voice and got angry but at the same time was trying to calm him down, almost like you would try to calm down a child.”
I always knew Saatchi was a shit, but now it appears he is a stupid violent shit. Will he get away with it? Probably. Scotland Yard has received no complaints about the incident, which happened in a public place. No one intervened.
There’s something for everyone on this blog!
amy winehouse before and after
carol kirkwood breasts
victoria coren hot
amy winehouse show her nipples
nigella lawson ugly
sheer stockings with vagina
golden age of metropolitan opera house
kate garraway cleavage
old greek anarchism
amy winehouse at her worst
dogs diving for balls
cigarettes and cleavage
dimensions of ribblehead viaduct
horny mature women
carol kirkwood in suspenders
victoria principal topless
ugly female politicians
bananas in pyjamas porn
black dog depression
redhead ginger lesbian tits
harlesden is a shithouse
justin bieber is a cunt
pavlova butterfly dog
retarded cat inbred
pli selon pli score
fat amy winehouse smoking crack
fisher towers utah tightrope walker
pavarotti in birmingham
OK, so these are just gratuitous Christina Hendricks pics.
Apparently, it was one of most controversial episodes in Mad Men’s explosive season. Red-headed bombshell Joan Holloway slept with a Jaguar dealer in exchange for a partnership stake in advertising firm Sterling Cooper Draper Price. And now Christina Hendricks, the 37-year-old actress who plays Joan, has admitted she felt “conflicted” about her character’s actions in the series.
“The question is, what would you do to protect your family? Joan is raising her son all on her own. She has no help from anybody,” Hendricks says when asked about her character’s actions in a new interview with The Hollywood Reporter.
In a photo shoot accompanying the interview, which appears in the July issue of THR, Hendrix stays in character with a classically sultry look.
For the magazine cover, the actress shows off her now famous hour-glass figure in a form-fitting black dress. A classical scoop neck reveals Hendricks’s much admired cleavage. She wears her red hair loose, with silver wedding and engagement rings the only jewellery visible.
In another shot, Hendricks is photographed sitting in a 1966 E-Type Jaguar, wearing a black lace top with white lace flowers.
A photograph of Madonna posing naked on a bed whilst smoking a cigarette has sold for nearly £15,000 at Bonhams in New York.
The sum is three times the estimate placed on the image that was taken in 1990, by the same photographer who did the work for Madonna’s 1992 book Sex.
Judith Eurich from the saleroom said: “It is an absolutely stunning image and it is just a beautiful tone of grey. It is not just black and white it is grey and silvery. Madonna was posing for a number of photographers at the time this was taken in the 1990s when she was in her early 30s. She was going through a phase of having bleach blonde hair and heavy dark eye make-up that gave her a dramatic look – and of course she has a gorgeous body. She is a very healthy person and I’d imagine the cigarette is just a prop to make her look sexy and sultry.”
The price paid was $23,750 or £14,761.
Nigella Lawson has called in lawyers to deny claims that she bought “under the counter” foie gras at Selfridges in London.
The Queen of Gastroporn and Caramel Bukkake vehemently denied a newspaper report published at the weekend suggesting that she bought the controversial French delicacy from Jack O’Shea, a prominent butcher, at his former concession in the department store.
Although production of foie gras – made from the enlarged livers of force-fed geese – is banned in Britain, it can be sold legally and is stocked in a number of London shops.
Selfridges banned it on animal welfare grounds two years ago after a high-profile campaign led by Sir Roger Moore, the former James Bond actor. Mr O’Shea, however, continued to offer it for sale to a select group of customers who requested it using the code name “French fillet” (reminding me of the sinister butcher of Royston Vasey, Hilary Briss, from The League of Gentlemen). He who said he prided himself on his animal welfare standards, and was unrepentant after his dismissal from Selfridges last year. He said at the time: “I couldn’t give a damn, my conscience is clear. Stuffing a goose with grain is like stuffing me with Guinness.”
MR D.J.S. MITCHELL AND MISS V.E. COREN. The engagement is announced between David, son of Mr and Mrs Ian Mitchell, of Oxford, and Victoria, daughter of Dr Anne Coren and the late Mr Alan Coren, of London.
Curvaceous yummy top-heavy writer and poker champion Victoria Coren is to marry television “personality” cult comedian and writer David Mitchell.
Ms Coren, 38, announced the engagement in The Times’s social and personal pages. The daughter of journalist and broadcaster Alan Coren, she is also the sister of Giles Coren, a columnist for The Times.
In 2006, she won the main event on the European Poker Tour, pocketing £500,000. She has a first-class degree from Oxford University and regularly contributes to the Observer and the BBC.
Mr Mitchell, best known as half of the duo Mitchell and Webb, was first rumoured to be involved with Ms Coren by the Telegraph’s Mandrake column last March. But the couple have largely kept their relationship a secret until now.
I had always fondly believed that “V.C.” and I shared an unspoken understanding, from the days when we would play in her father’s cherry orchard in leafy Cricklewood, north London, that one day she would become Mrs Stainforth.
Alas, she has succumbed to the superficial charm of this Mitchell bloke, forgetting the joy we had in those halcyon days when we flung us on the windy hill and kissed the lovely grass.
Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill,
Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.
You said, “Through glory and ecstasy we pass;
Wind, sun, and earth remain, the birds sing still,
When we are old, are old. . . .” “And when we die
All’s over that is ours; and life burns on
Through other lovers, other lips,” said I,
“Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!”
“We are Earth’s best, that learnt her lesson here.
Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!” we said;
“We shall go down with unreluctant tread
Rose-crowned into the darkness!” . . . Proud we were,
And laughed, that had such brave true things to say.
And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.
(Rupert Brooke, The Hill)
Before my obsession with Christina Hendricks takes over this blog, I have decided to give her a page to herself.
We love your body. If we’re in love with you, we love your body. Your potbelly, everything. Even if you’re insecure about something, we love your body. You feel like you’re not this or that? We love your body. We embrace everything. Because it’s you.
Speaking of your body, you don’t understand the power of your own smell. Any woman who is currently with a man is with him partly because she loves the way he smells. And if we haven’t smelled you for a day or two and then we suddenly are within inches of you, we swoon. We get light-headed. It’s intoxicating. It’s heady.
We remember forever what you say about the bodies of other women. When you mention in passing that a certain woman is attractive — could be someone in the office, a woman on the street, a celebrity, any woman in the world, really — your comment goes into a steel box and it stays there forever. We will file the comment under “Women He Finds Attractive.” It’s not about whether or not we approve of the comment. It’s about learning what you think is sexy and how we might be able to convey it. It’s about keeping our man by knowing what he likes.
We also remember everything you say about our bodies, be it good or bad. Doesn’t matter if it’s a compliment. Could be just a comment. Those things you say are stored away in the steel box, and we remember these things verbatim. We remember what you were wearing and the street corner you were standing on when you said it.
Never complain about our friends — even if we do. No matter how many times we say a friend of ours is driving us crazy, you are not to pile on. Not because it offends us. But because it adds to the weight that we carry around about her.
Remember what we like. When I first started dating my husband, I had this weird fascination with the circus and clowns and old carnival things and sideshow freaks and all that. About a month after we started dating, he bought me this amazing black-and-white photo book on the circus in the 1930s, and I started sobbing. Which freaked him out. I thought, Oh, my God, I mentioned this three or four weeks ago and talked about it briefly, but he was really listening to me. And he actually went out and researched and found this thing for me. It was amazing.
We want you to order Scotch. It’s the most impressive drink order. It’s classic. It’s sexy. Such a rich color. The glass, the smell. It’s not watered down with fruit juice. It’s Scotch. And you ordered it.
Stand up, open a door, offer a jacket. We talk about it with our friends after you do it. We say, “Can you believe he stood up when I approached the table?” It makes us feel important. And it makes you important because we talk about it.
No shorts that go below the knee. The ones almost like capri pants, the ones that hover somewhere between the kneecap and the calf? Enough with those shorts. They are the most embarrassing pants in the world. They should never be worn. No woman likes those.
Also, no tank tops. In public at least. A tank top is underwear. You’re walking around in your underwear. Too much.
No man should be on Facebook. It’s an invasion of everyone’s privacy. I really cannot stand it.
You don’t know this, but when we come back from a date, we feel awkward about that transition from our cute outfit into sexy lingerie. We don’t know how to do this gracefully. It’s embarrassing. We have to find a way to slip into another room, put on the outfit as if it all happened very easily, and then come out and it’s: Look at me! Look at the sexy thing I’ve done! For you, it’s the blink of an eye. It’s all very embarrassing. Just so you know.
Panties is a wonderful word. When did you stop saying “panties”? It’s sexy. It’s girlie. It’s naughty. Say it more.
About ogling: The men who look, they really look. It doesn’t insult us. It doesn’t faze us, really. It’s just — well, it’s a little infantile. Which is ironic, isn’t it? The men who constantly stare at our breasts are never the men we’re attracted to.
There are better words than beautiful. Radiant, for instance. It’s an underused word. It’s a very special word. “You are radiant.” Also, enchanting, smoldering, intoxicating, charming, fetching.
Marriage changes very little. The only things that will get a married man laid that won’t get a single man laid are adultery and whores. Intelligence and humor (and your smell) are what get you laid. That’s what got you laid when you were single. That’s what gets you laid when you’re married. Everything still works in marriage: especially intelligence and humor. Because the sexiest thing is to know you.
Christina Hendricks is at the centre of a picture scandal after saucy snaps were stolen from her phone.
The Mad Men star is snapped in a variety of sexy poses which have been posted on the internet, with one appearing to be of her topless. Christina is insisting that the X-rated photo of a woman pulling her top down is in fact a fake. The image of the chest in question appears without a head or body on it, so could be anyone’s. But there is no denying that the other barely-dressed pics of Hendricks gazing into the camera are actually her own.
In the open market nude photographs can fetch up to $1 million if they retain the cache of novelty and are properly distributed. Each time we view one of these leaked or hacked photographs we are contributing to the decline in value of a potential future asset. The individual leaking the photos is exploiting a possible future revenue stream for the celebrity without their permission. Because a market exists for nudity, the leak is akin to someone stealing and releasing an early copy of a musician’s single.
(Jo Piazza, Wall Street Journal)
Here are the breasts which Hendricks says are not hers. My question is, whose are they then?