Hello, boys and girls. To business. People who've been here before may notice something strange. It didn't take as long as it does to run a bath for the page to load this time, did it? This is primarily (entirely, in fact) because I've got rid of a load of pictures, and dumped them on another page altogether. This will naturally lessen the download time for this page, but be of no use to those who want to see the old pictures again. Still, what can you do, eh? Oh, alright then. Go here for the old pics. But for now, enjoy the old ones that are still here and the newer ones you might not have seen yet.

Mr and Mrs (ex) Roger Waters, giving hope to all men with looks that scare small children.

Mason wearing an ill-disguised expression of worry, on the dawning realisation that perhaps Guy and Gary weren't, on reflection, quite the names he should have agreed upon for his two boys. (Mainly because Gary's actually called Cary. Sorry about that.)

Mr and Mrs David Gilmour, at this year's Wear An Ethnic Rug Ball. They probably couldn't find one big enough to fit him though, so he played safe with smart casuals instead.

It's those two again, this time at the Tate Modern Art Gallery's opening night party. Do they look comfortable? Hard to tell. If anything, Polly should be jubilant. "Look everyone, I got him to wear a tie instead of one of those bloody t-shirts!"

Why, that dirty old man Rog! Here he is gadding about with some honey young enough to be his...oh, wait. She IS his daughter. Never mind.

Is it me or does Annette bear a slight resemblance to a panic-stricken Christine Hamilton all of a sudden? I think so. Perhaps it's because, just as La Hamilton is often seen beside husband Neil, she's standing next to a right tit (or worse, now I think about it...).

Well, if this isn't a turn-up for the books I don't know what is. When's the last time we saw Gilmour's James Bond impersonation, eh? I'm tempted to say he's armed with a licence to grill, but there's no need. Polly's radiant smile gives away the fact she knows it covers baking, boiling, roasting and frying too.

Here at the Serpentine Gallery, Gilmour provides further evidence of his growing desire to downshift, off-load, make-do and be content - by sporting the same old beige jacket he's had for ten bloody years. I bet those buttons won't do up anymore, and presumably the absence of the matching trousers tells its own sorry tale...

Wherever it is, one is suitably surprised to see that David and Polly have been joined by Harry Potter and someone on the far left who looks disturbingly like he could equally have come from the loins of Roger Waters as well. Scary.

Here we see Gilmour attemping to explain to waiting photographers that the love of his life has cruelly stolen his dentures to stop him eating all the food, while Polly herself gleefully shows us where she's put them for safe keeping.

A continued lack of teeth and ravenous hunger fool Gilmour's mind into believing that his wife's wearing a necklace of steamed scallops.

Can we read Gilmour's mind? Well, probably not. "Get them from school and take them home first, I said. Let them change, and then we'll go to the premiere, I said....bloody woman. Still hasn't given me my sodding teeth back, either..."

The malnourishment continues apace; such is his lack of nutrition that Dave's recently begun to shrink too. Either that or Polly's wearing very high heels and standing on a small box....

Well, what a difference getting one's teeth back makes, eh? Dave's regained his height, his chin's lost its double, the shirt's black and the tie (yes, the *tie!*) is blue - none of which quite explains how Polly blagged a conveniently pink-coloured fan, but no matter...

Seen here at the premiere of 'The Hitchiker's Guide To The Galaxy', Polly gets into the cosmic spirit of things by wearing a bluey-grey metallic dress - and Dave doesn't. No, instead of that undeniably more exotic option he finds that....well, we could have guessed right with our eyes shut actually....

At this year's Cartier International Polo, we see a dead ringer for the man from Del Monte - saying yes, I will have the halibut starter, followed by chicken and a slice of pavlova to finish, washed down with Snow Queen cocktails. Might even stay for the bacon sandwiches later on tonight, now you mention it....

Having recently heard that the role of James Bond was up for grabs, Gilmour wasted no time in getting his dinner suit out of the wardrobe again. Alas, while Dave seems blissfully oblivious, Polly looks uneasy. It's almost like she knows something he doesn't....

....such as the appearance of a rogue guest with a small camera. We know he can pluck a banjo like nobody else on Earth. But on this evidence it's no great surprise Daniel Craig got the gig instead of Gilmour, is it?

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Another piss-poor, hastily compiled load of old tat inflicted upon the web by CJH, aided and abetted of late by guest captioner Kelly Cozy. It's moderately certain to offend some sensibilities, but far more likely to annoy the copyright holders of the pictures themselves. Happy Easter.