Lack of exercise and high fat diets can lead to hypertension, heart attacks and death.
So says the serious message on a press release that just came to Time Out Towers.
Scary stuff and a stark warning indeed.
Do something about it now.
The Inspire Dubai Awards is one of the most exciting projects Time Out has ever been a part of.
Our annual restaurant awards set the benchmark for dining quality every year and it is a pleasure to work on them.
But the Inspire Dubai Awards are an honour to work on.
These are awards that recognise the bravery, dedication and commitment of individuals in the emirate.
These are the awards for the unsung heroes of Dubai.
If you know an inspiring person who is going above and beyond the call of duty to help other people and inspire Dubai we want to know about it.
Find out more information about the awards by clicking here.
Thousands of concerned Dubai residents and Facebook members have pledged their support to the search for missing South African woman Kerry Winter.
More than 3,000 people have joined the Facebook Group, Help Us Find Kerry and hundreds are expected to join in a search on Friday morning.
Ms Winter has been missing for more than two weeks after disappearing on August 20.
Concerned friends and family will begin the search for Kerry on Friday morning at Mall of The Emirates.
For more information on the search, and to join the Facebook group, please click here.
Time Out’s film editor, Mark Smith, is on assignment at the Venice Film Festival. He will be writing about the experience for the Time Out blog. Check back for regular updates, film news and first reviews.
A cloud of oestrogen hung like smog over the Lido today as Brad Pitt and George Clooney arrived to promote Burn After Reading, the latest from the genre-resistant Coen Brothers.
Talk at the press conference, where George obligingly signed a copy of Time Out Dubai - albeit with the initials ‘GG’ - instantly turned to the fact that the Jolie-Pitt brood had swelled its ranks by 50 per cent since the last time Brad was in town.
‘The twins are fine,’ was as much as Pitt was prepared to give away at first, although he later joked that he’s willing to donate a couple of kids to Clooney if the 47 year-old bachelor doesn’t settle down soon.
‘Brad and I are getting married today, as it happens,’ replied Clooney. A fine romance indeed.
As for the small matter of the film, it’s a kaleidoscopic identity farce in a similar vein to The Big Lebowski. John Malcovich plays an alcoholic CIA agent who, to the arctic derision of his cheating British wife (Tilda Swinton, dressed like Thatcher circa 86) responds to constructive dismissal by setting about his memoirs.
When a disc containing the embryonic tome washes up in the ladies’ changing room of a Hardbodys gym, a pair of inept, self-obsessed junior managers (Pitt and the sublimely adaptable Frances McDormand) attempt to turn the find to their advantage, first via attempted blackmail, then by shopping it around America’s foes.
The Coens revealed at the press conference that Pitt and Clooney’s characters were written for the actors, an admission which left the latter reeling in mock affront. ‘I believe they refer to the three films I’ve done with them as “The Idiot Trilogy”‘.
It’s true that, like the comparatively dire Get Smart early this year, this is an intelligence flick peopled almost entirely with numbskulls. ‘Hey, that’s a sensitive subject,’ quipped Joel Coen, ‘there’s nothing wrong with being an idiot. Besides, idiots are a big demographic.’
Time Out’s film editor, Mark Smith, is on assignment at the Venice Film Festival. He will be writing about the experience for the Time Out blog. Check back for regular updates, film news and first reviews.
Any old transit from Venice’s Marco Polo airport, particularly when you hail from the parched sands of the UAE in August, is liable to give the passenger the impression of having embarked upon a new life altogether.
Cool wind through barnet, salt on skin, the obligatory seagull on a buoy - are they stuffed, one wonders, or just stunned by the easy beauty of everything?.
Aboard Emirates airline’s bespoke water limousine, the effect is particularly profound. Journeying toward the Lido at speed, I channelled Dirk Bogarde in the Lucino Visconti adaptation of Thomas Mann’s novella; except, where Gustav von Aschenbach finds but one beguiling youth and, alas, Death In Venice, I discovered simply youth - my own.
Turns out a young person’s travel card is available, in these parts, to anyone under the grand old age of 29. Hardly surprising, in a city where grannies have been rocking this season’s acid bright Wayfarer sunglasses for some 20 years.
No such luck for Tomas, the ageing protagonist of Nowhere Man, the depressodrama which opened the festival for early arrivers. Trapped in a decent marriage of which he feels entirely unworthy, Tomas spies an escape route and takes it: on the premise of rescuing a dog from the inferno ingulfing his neighbour’s identikit home, he fakes his death and journeys to a tropical island under a stranger’s passport.
The island is, presumably, African, but the Greek strains of ‘Shirley Valentine’ escape fantasy accompany his departure. Where Tomas seeks reinvention he finds only degeneracy - economic, environmental and emotional - and there is bleak humour indeed when his one shot at redemption - rescuing a maimed beachside horse - ends in the mutilation of the hand attempting to feed.
Devoid of waffle, this Belgian production is a masterful, if punishing, revelation. Tomas spends the second half of the film with his injured hand encased in a sinister golfing glove.
Which got me to thinking- since when did a single celluloid glove come to denote danger? Is Kubrick to blame (A Clockwork Orange)? Or maybe Haneke (Funny Games)? On second thoughts, maybe it was ‘Moonwalker’?
Just goes to show, the pursuit of youth, beyond a certain age, often ends in tears…
