The Price of Integrity

Who was it who was recently talking about guilty pleasures? Gosh - maybe it wasn't in blogworld at all - maybe it was RL. Ooh - if it was, that might be a fun tag.

Well, one of mine is CSI. The Las Vegas and Miami variations, anyway. LV because Gil Grissom has me ensorcelled by his wisdom and integrity, and Miami because Horatio Caine makes my jaw drop with the vastness of his self-delusion (and Calleigh Duquesne. My oh my.) And last night saw the terrestrial opener to CSI:LV Series 8, which I recorded and should be watching right now instead of blimmin' blogging, on account of the cliffhanger at the end of the last series was SO GREAT.

I read somewhere (Wikipedia this is not. You'll just have to take my word that the following is absolutely true) that the lovely Jorja Fox, having been promoted AT LAST to Main Squeeze, asked (gasp) for a MASSIVE payrise. And do you know what the series bosses did?

They put her character under an overturned car, leaking petrol, in the middle of the Nevada desert. The final shot of the last series was her slender arm reaching out and ever-more-feebly scrabbling in the sand.

HA! That'll show her.

Or will it? . . .

Excuse me while I go find out . . .