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SCMP Reporter

Today is one of those days in this job when coming up with something new to write seems as difficult for me as it is for the television stations to come up with something new to air.

 In fact, sitting here I am desperately trying to make a career change.

 The colleague next to me left full-time employ on the sports desk a couple of months ago to make short films.

 I am told much of his time has been spent on Shek O beach with camera in hand as friends (most of whom are his ex-colleagues) frolic in front of the camera in mock battle scenes, attracting (and I think this is the aim) the attention of pretty girls.

 'Do you need a fat gweilo in your next film, Jay? I'll take my clothes off, if that will help,' I ask.

 The wannabe director does not look impressed.

 'Everyone offers to take their clothes off,' he said.

 Exhibitionists we are, one and all.

 But the truth is, should Jay decide to give me a part in his next movie (and it's not looking good), I wouldn't go naked, simply on the basis of finally getting to watch The English Patient this weekend.

 As Ralph Fiennes lay in bed pondering the hollow bit in Kristin Scott Thomas' neck, I couldn't help staring at the size of her erect nipples (clearly ice cubes had been in action there).

 This is, let's face it, reason enough not to have too many nipples on television; the naked body on screen is simply distracting.

 How many of us didn't strain to get a glimpse of Simon Callow's willy as he skinny-dipped in A Room With A View?  How many of us weren't hanging on to the moment, not wanting to miss the split-second when Sharon Stone presented her glory in Basic Instinct?  The human body is and will always be meant for sex (as well as all its other, far less enjoyable functions) and the naked frame only reminds of us its purpose.

 Hong Kong's broadcasting code of practice banning the merest hint of dark pink flesh is Victorian to the nth degree.

 There's no doubt the restrictions should be relaxed.

 Partial nudity - the curve of a bum, the hint of a breast - can add atmosphere and romance.

 But, as my mother always said, 'less is more.'  Sitting on the beach of St Tropez as a skinny 17-year-old, I remembered her words and proved the point.

 I was the only girl wearing a top with my bikini and, much to the annoyance of the big-bosomed Bardot-esque babes, I attracted far more attention from the beach boys.

 OK Jay, I'll take the part, but I'm keeping my clothes on - if I'm lucky he'll let me move the scenery.

Which is what Gene Hackman and Dan Aykroyd must have wished they'd done on Loose Cannons (Pearl, 9.30pm), one of the worst movies either has appeared in.

 That said, Aykroyd has appeared in more than his fair share of duffers.

 The former criminology student who came to prominence with Toronto's Second City Comedy troupe and then as one of the cast of Saturday Night Live has been wasted in more rubbish than any of his talented contemporaries. It's supposed to be a comedy, but as one reviewer perfectly described it, it's more like a visit to the dentist's chair.

In this week's dose of ER (Pearl, 8.30pm), Greene comes to terms with Lewis' departure by taking on more responsibility.

 But he sticks his nose in where it's not wanted and discovers Jeanie's secret.

 Meanwhile, Keaton surprises Carter with some news, she visits his family's farm to chop down a Christmas tree, and they share an intimate moment.



The naked truth