Off The Stage And On The Piss - The Old Bits
Verily, it is true. Here are the older pictures, which were doing nothing for those who'd already seen them except waste a few precious seconds more of their lives. I mean, they could have halted downloading once the basic page had arrived and then just scrolled down to the bottom, where the vacant frame of the latest picture would be there, waiting to be right-clicked on and "view pictured", as it were. But that would be too easy. So to make it more difficult, here's the old crap.

 
 Gilmour and wife, Polly Samson, at Guy and Gala Pratt's wedding reception. And looking every inch the happy couple, despite leaning dangerously to the left.

Guy and Gala themselves on the big day, indulging in some Saturday Night Fever. Like he doesn't do that every night on stage as well...

 

 
 Mr and Mrs Rick Wright try to look happy about having Guy as a son-in-law. And fail quite miserably.

Polly on the lookout for a thinner husband, or a damn good dietician.  

 
 Mrs Nick Mason, showing us what she'll whack him with if he talks about double overhead camshafts or crustless pies once more...

Mrs Mason once again, phoning the Samaritans in desperation. "Please help me. My husband won't stop talking about double overhead camshafts or pastry, even after being hit repeatedly over the head with a polo mallet."

 

 
 Nick seeking solace and comfort over his troubled marriage, over a glass of champagne with Dave. And talking to him about mechanics and food, probably.

Dave doing his best to show Polly up in front of the cameras. Through clenched teeth, one can hear her hiss "Don't you dare puke now..don't you dare...."

 

Lately, one can see that Mrs Mason has finally found an agreeable solution, drowning out the noise of her husband's inane car-related chat by drowning herself in drink, at the opening of Tommy Hilfiger's new shop in Bond Street.

And as we can see, Mason's striving to put even Gilmour in the shade as a party animal. Here we catch him out and about again, in the back garden of the parents of some bloke connected with the Voodoo Lounge, completely aghast at the sight of a buffet table with no pies at all, let alone crustless ones. At least he got a drink out of it, eh?

 

There really is no stopping this man, is there? Here we see him making a spectacle of himself at this year's Cartier International Polo tournament in Windsor with dark glasses and a huge hat. Indeed all he needs is his big droopy moustache back, and he'd look like a middle-eastern terrorist in a 70's airplane disaster movie. Mrs Mason seems to be bearing up well, safe in the knowledge she's got our sympathy for having to put up with him.

 

To the newer pictures

An extended branch of the original piss-poor, hastily compiled load of old tat inflicted upon the web by CJH years ago.