What the hell is that, woman? This was the question on everyone's gibbering lips at the world premiere of the Sex And The City movie in London last night, as Sarah Jessica Parker walked down the red carpet wearing the top of a pineapple crowned by a manky green rose, some fading flowers and a few butterflies that had obviously looked at her Philip Treacy fascinator and died of a brain haemorrhage. Here's that "hat" its full glory:

Utterly mental. Once your eyes have stopped bleeding, enjoy the rest of our Sex And The City premiere post-mortem:

The Times have broken the worldwide press embargo and reviewed the film. Well, sort of. Rather, they've done an un-review and a dull one at that, written by a man, Will Pavia, who spends the bulk of his piece mocking the intelligence of the shrieking women-filled audience. The only revelation we get is that "there may be a problem with a film when a narrator constantly tells you the meaning of what you have just seen, gift-wrapping each scene with a moral," but, Christ, this was the most annoying thing about the TV series, making the observation, duh, a no-brainer. Some good facts down the bottom of the review, though, including how Shanghai TV produced its own version of the series in 2003 called Hot Ladies.

Perez Hilton kicked off a "what is Kim Cattrall thinking" caption competition. Subtly bitchy for a change, Perez, and very funny.

Marie Claire remind us why Sarah Jessica Parker is the worst of the four Sexers, by flagging up what she said outside the cinema. "This is a miraculous and simply unforgettable night for us all!", she windbagged, before describing the world premiere as "an incredible way to kick off the journey". Psychobabble, woman, just show us your shoes.

Jezebel alerted us to some more leaked film clips. "What we do learn from these clips is just how much Carrie makes us cringe — from clits to toes — and how we still can't wait to see this stupid fucking movie", they say (brilliantly). We agree: even though we're clawing out our eyes about Carrie making Miranda want to feel jealous, moaning about the closet, saying "the subTEXT of that TEXT is boo-tay" (FFS!) we're still counting the days 'til May 28 too. Blame Miranda.

Oh, and The Sun present us with the Mr Big Vibrator. That's it: even we've had enough. OK, apart from another go on the official trailer.