Hallo Readers,

Last week, we considered how Mrs Maybe’s Cabinet reshuffle went totally tits up.  This week, we consider how mega-corporation Carillion went totally tits up. On Monday it was defunct. This huge company, which was involved in building buildings, building roads, and providing catering and cleaning staff on contract, which had 450 Government contracts when it went under, is carrion for M’Learned friends, armies of accountants and insolvency practitioners, all of them picking over the carcass. Meanwhile, 20,000 employees are facing the scrap heap (although those working on projects for private companies are to work on and be paid until new contractors can be found) and 1,400 Government apprentices have been left high and dry. There are debts of £1.3 billion and a £600m hole in the pension fund. And it is not just the immediate employees in peril, but the contractors who did business with Carillion who will probably never be paid and who will themselves go under and their employees with them, not to mention their sub-contractors and their sub-sub-contractors and so on. As Henry V put it,

That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.

Not that everyone waited until the body was dead. Carillion’s directors have been doing just fine. In July 2017, the company posted a profits warning, whereupon Richard Howson, the Chief Executive, who had been earning £1.5m in salary, bonuses and pension payments stepped down. A month later, he popped up again, this time as Chief Operating Officer, scraping by on a salary of £660,000 and £28,000 in benefits. Because the company has done so well under his stewardship, they needed to have yet more of him. He stayed until October when he departed yet again, following Zahar Khan, the Chief Financial Officer, out of the door. Both of these titans (and all other senior executives) had clauses in their contracts entitling them to a year’s salary after termination (£425,000 for Mr Khan) and expected to be paid until the autumn of 2018. Despite the fact that there were clearly problems over the past year, the Board continued to declare dividends and to pay themselves bonuses. In contrast, contractors have complained that Carillion was notoriously slow to pay up, once citing a flood in India as a reason not to pay a small firm in England, whilst doing that thing that companies do, underbidding for contracts and then squeezing contractors and quality to make a profit, shaving a little off here and a little off there and screwing all the littler people in the name of Big Business.

The Insolvency Service has now frozen payments to directors and so Mr Howson, Mr Khan and the other dummies on the Board will have to live on their savings. The Insolvency Service also intends to investigate the company’s trading sheets which, pre July, gave off such a rosy glow. They might also ask Her Majesty’s Government why it continued to dole out contracts to this failing monolith, even after the profit warnings had been sounded. 

You can bet your bottom dollar that had a Carillion builder dropped a brick off a scaffold or a Carillion out-sourced dinner lady been late dishing out the kiddies’ macaroni cheese at lunchtime, they would have been dismissed quicker than you can say P45. No payoff. No continuing access to the goody-bag. Nothing. But these people have presided over catastrophic failure and yet continued to get paid and expected to be paid even after it all collapsed. And other companies will also suffer the same fate because such is the British way, in politics as well as in commerce  – reward failure and let the same people go and cock up something else.

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We start our review of the week’s fashion follies with ghastly White House Press Secretary, Sarah Huckabee Sanders.

WTF aficionado Joshua La Porte has long maintained that the more Sarah lies, the more maquillage she wears, like an Estée Lauder Pinocchio. The US taxpayer pays for her makeup and hair, but on this evidence, she also needs a stylist. The dreadful dress does not fit anywhere and it is far too short. More pressing is the question of what has happened to Sarah’s knees – has she been playing American football without protection? When WTF tweeted this picture on Wednesday night, several people thought they saw Donald Trump’s face and hair in her patellae, in the same way that people see Jesus’s face in a piece of fruit. Just saying…

Next to LA, and actress Tracee Ellis Ross, wearing Proenza Schouler.

Tracee is clearly suffering from a bad case of discombobulation and is wearing her bra over her clothes. Which is just very silly.

To Paris, where we find WTF regular, actress Diane Kruger at the Chanel party. She is of course wearing Chanel.

Diane has come straight from the Opéra National where she was dancing one of the little cygnets in a production of Swan Lake.

This is Arsenal footballer Hector Bellerin at London Men’s Fashion Week a fortnight ago, wearing a Christopher Shannon coat, women’s Zimmerman silk pyjamas and Gucci fur-lined velvet slippers. 

Velvet fur-lined slippers!!!!!!

Fur-lined slippers worn outdoors as much use as a sponge leg in a swamp. (A bit like Hector’s defending). And they cost £645. Is Hector sleepwalking? (Also a bit like Hector’s defending). The whole outfit is an outrage. WTF was already sick of watching Hector play like a prat. Now she has to put up with him dressing like one.

Stella McCartney was flogging her wares in LA. Here is Katy Perry wearing part of the new Autumn Collection.

Katy is dressed as a frilly red bell pepper in pink shoes. Who knows why?

This is actress Yara Shahidi at the Marie Claire party in Hollywood, wearing Shiaparelli Couture.

Only last week, women were at the Golden Globes wearing funereal black in solidarity with their sisters who had been sexually assaulted by groping fat cats, as part of the #MeToo movement. Yet Yara is wearing something suggesting that one of those aforesaid fat cats is standing behind her with his hands fondling her front bits. There is quirky and there is creepy. This has gone way past creepy and is verging on the downright pervy.

You always expect singer Lady Gaga to dress outlandishly because that is her schtick, but having a Minge Moment in a Barcelona street is going far too far. Here she is, wearing Ted Khouri.

Hasn’t Catalonia suffered enough without exposure to the Gaga groin?

Finally, we have two horrors from the NAACP (American National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) Image Awards in LA, starting with actor Algee Smith.

Bare chest, a necklace and bare ankles WORN WITH BROGUES (which WTF hates almost above all things) are bad enough. But a bellybutton triangle in a dinner jacket? As Dorothy Parker used to say whenever the front doorbell rang, what fresh hell is this?

Answer – not nearly as hellish as actress Halle Berry, wearing Reem Accra. Brace yourselves. MAJOR MINGE ALERT!!!!! CARE SHOULD BE TAKEN BEFORE PROGRESSING FURTHER….

The only word here is mingetastic.

Halle is 51 (although she could be 31) and is seriously stunning but that is no excuse to her to parade about in public with her pubis covered by little more than a beaver braid. Reem Acrid – shame on you…

This week’s It’s Got To Go has come from a number of WTF aficionados who are not at all happy, not even at all, with the new Victoria and Albert Museum uniforms designed by one Christopher Rae. Here is why….

The staff seem to have stumbled into a Laura Ashley 1970s reunion in horrible clashes of blue and orange. WTF aficionado Tom remarked that the bald bloke at the far end has been moonlighting as a train guard. WTF thinks the big bloke in the middle looks like a tartan version of Paddington Bear. The staff’s smiles are somewhat forced and with good reason because this is seriously bad. It’s Got To Go…..

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. You sent in lovely comments last week which made WTF smile, which is A GOOD THING. Please keep it up. And don’t forget your top suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday where we will digest the SAG Awards Red Carpet. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

Some concepts are difficult to grasp. Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. Stephen Hawking’s History of Time. And the notion that UKIP can be brought into disrepute. Teams of rocket scientists are currently working around the clock to solve this conundrum and they may be occupied for some time.

UKIP is rather like the stylus or the telegram. That was then – this is now. It once served a purpose for Europhobes but now we are heading out of the EU. Since Nigel Farage purportedly stepped down from politics in September 2016, the Party has had more Leaders than a Girl Guides’ get-together. Hatchet-faced Diane James who lasted less than three weeks before stepping down from a position she never actually took up; Farage as Acting Leader until November 2016; Paul Nuttall, a fantasist with a fictional Ph.D, friends he supposedly lost at Hillsborough but never did, a career as a professional footballer that never happened, a house in his by-election constituency he did not actually live in and a terrible taste in tweed;  after Nuttall stepped down in June 2017, UKIP having failed to win a single seat in the General Election, Steve Crowther in temporary control; and then Henry Bolton who was elected in September, defeating a madwoman who ran an outfit called Sharia Watch and was deemed too extreme to stand as a candidate. Bolton seemed unremarkable other than a chequered marital history, having married a Dane, a Russian and then another Russian, Tatiana, the present incumbent.

It all went wrong in January after Bolton took up with Jo Marney, 29 years his junior, who describes herself as a “presenter, music journalist, model, actor and Brexiteer”. Well, the last bit is certainly true. Bolton and Marney’s romance annoyed his wife (she claims they were still together, Bolton says they had already separated), the tabloids and the Party, which took against Marney’s “glamour” shots, her youth and her evident thirst for publicity. It got worse. A week later, Marney emerged as a virulent racist, even by UKIP standards, when previous Facebook postings and texts came to light. Grenfell Tower was ‘a nest of illegal immigrants of all varieties…that’s why they can’t identify most of them.’ Eastern European women  were ‘sluts’ who would ‘fuck a mangey dog for about 10 quid and a Big Mac’, whilst Princess-elect Meghan Markle was ‘a gender obsessed twat’ whose mixed race seed would ‘pollute the royal family’. Romeo was forced to end his star-crossed tryst but last Sunday the Party Executive passed a motion of no confidence in him, stopped his stipend (he does actually not receive a salary) and resigned en masse. However, Bolton has refused to step down, has vowed to “drain the swamp” and is fronting it out, seemingly about to reconcile with Marney.

The idea that Bolton has brought the party into disrepute is like a turd complaining that another turd is malodorous. Amongst those flouncing off in high dudgeon were Mike Hookem, who allegedly decked his fellow MEP Steven Woolfe in a corridor of the European Parliament; David Kurten, a member of the London Assembly, who has compared homosexuality to child abuse; Aidan Powlesland, a former Parliamentary candidate who campaigned on a policy of developing spacecraft to allow humans to mine the asteroid belt; and John Bickley, who stood in the Oldham by-election and retweeted a cartoon with the slogan “if you want a jihadi for a neighbour, vote Labour”. None of these giants of the political stratosphere has any claim to bestride the moral high ground. The same is true of Neil Hamilton, a Member of the Welsh Assembly, who wants Bolton out on the grounds that “His recent behaviour has been so irrational, he should seek psychological help”. This is the same Neil Hamilton who was kicked out of the Tory Government in 1996 after The Guardian alleged he had taken bribes on brown paper envelopes from Mohammed Al-Fayed; who unsuccessfully sued the paper for libel; who lost one of the safest Tory seats in the country in 1997; and who, with his ghastly Pantomime Dame spouse Christine, set themselves up as a professional Z-Listers, appearing at every awful function and on crappy TV shows and standing in a perspex cage whilst comic Johnny Vegas showered him with fish. 

They will try and force Bolton out. Meanwhile Bolton maintains his private life has no bearing on his Leadership as long as it does not damage the Party and the third Mrs Bolton is doubtless consulting M’Learned friends. This one will run and run….

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We start our week’s mega-bumper-ginormous review of crapulous clothing at the National TV Awards in London on Tuesday and TOWIE’s Bobby Norris, fabled winner of the Summer Stinker 2014 AND the Summer Stinker 2015 with his foul cocksocks. At least he is covered up….

Bobby is putting the cock into peacock, whose tail appears to be tickling his groin. There’s a knocking shop somewhere in Shanghai missing its wallpaper….

Next up, we have actress Chelsee Healey, wearing Modemwah.

Chelsee’s face is shinier than a snooker ball and her groin is covered only by a crotch curtain on a crotch curtain rail. What happens she sits down? Plus we can see sideboob and tan lines and a tattoo and all sorts. Our cups runneth over. And hers…..

Here is another soap actress, Sarah Jayne Dunn, wearing Ruth Milliam Couture.

As far as WTF can see, Sarah Jayne is standing amidst the remains of an exploded giant poodle…

We now consider the horror that is actress Zoe Kravitz, wearing St Laurent.

This is imminent visible nipple activity and what can best be described as a minge triangle. Clearly, the designer drew inspiration from the scene in Absolutely Fabulous where a pissed Patsy emerges from a taxi with her bodysuit unfastened….

The rest of the week’s offerings come from the Screen Actors’ Guild Award in Hollywood where thespians various came up with some real stinkers. We start with Gayle Rankin, wearing who knows what?

Gayle is perched precariously on clodhopping sandals behind a portcullis adorned with little flowers, as if welcoming home a soldier from the Crusades. The slip is both ill-fitting and scrunched.

Sally Hawkins, wearing Christian Dior. It is actually a dress although it resembles bad trousers.

This kaleidoscope is giving everyone a headache. And she has a bullseye on her stomach. Sally had better not venture into a pub in her native Lewisham  – someone might throw a dart at her.

Deon Cole. No one has owned up to designing this suit – good call.

This is officially a pity because Deon is handsome with a lovely smile but that rascal suit will not do and the velvet braid is a shocker. He looks like Nicely Nicely in Guys and Dolls. WTF is also unhappy about the droopy black bow tie like a decomposing bat.

Renee Bargh, wearing Alex Perry.

When Pooh got stuck in Rabbit’s front door because he had eaten too much honey and condensed milk, and had stay there, a wedged bear in great tightness, for a week to get thin, Rabbit used his legs as a towel horse. Renee has a triangular tit window instead of a door and she seems to be using her arms to dry the sheets…

Kate Hudson, wearing Valentino.

BBC recently did a remake of Little Women. WTF failed to notice that Kate was in it….

Jackie Cruz, wearing Laura Basci.

This is essentially a feather duster with tits.

And finally, Kate Nash, wearing Bora Aksu.

Kate looks like a Meissen shepherdess, although this is more Bo Peekaboo than Bo Peep. Having said that, something seems to be hiding underneath her skirts and peering out through the porthole because WTF can see no other reason for it to be there.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado @MsAlliance who sent in this utterly revolting wedding jumpsuit by Spanish nuptial-specialist Pronovias. Get a load of this, vicar….

 

Why would you want your spouse’s granddad to get a whole load of your arse? And as WTF aficionado Philip remarked, the model looks as if someone one has sprayed her bits with whipped cream from one of those aerosols. It has SO Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. You were a bit slow with your comments last week which made WTF anxious, which is A BAD THING. Please do better this week. However, there were some top suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

Would you put the Chief Rabbi in charge of the Pork Promotion Programme? You would not. So why would you put climate change deniers in charge of your environmental policy? In the US, the idiot President appointed Scott Pruitt to run the Environment Protection Agency. Pruitt is a former Attorney General of Oklahoma who distinguished his tenure there by suing the EPA 14 times. It is of course sheer coincidence that Pruitt received hundreds of thousands of dollars in campaign donations from the fossil fuel industry. When appointed to the EPA, he set about repealing most of Obama’s protective regulations and fired the 18 independent scientists advising the Agency, and will reeplace them with “industry representatives”. 

Of course, this suits Trump just fine because he is also a climate change denier. Last week, when “interviewed” by Piers Morgan, not that it was an actual interview, more a case of Morgan applying his tongue to the Presidential fundament, Trump said, unchallenged,

‘There is a cooling and there’s a heating—I mean, look, it used to not be climate change. It used to be global warming. That wasn’t working too well because it was getting too cold all over the place. The ice caps were going to melt. They were going to be gone by now, but now they’re setting records, okay? They’re at a record level’.

The technical term for this is ‘bollocks’. 

In order of bollocks, global warning is part of climate change; 2017 was the third hottest year on record in the US; the average world temperature throughout the year is warmer than it was but that does not mean part of the US do not get cold; ‘climate change’ more accurately explains the concept of the damage done by greenhouse gases, as opposed to the noxious emissions from Trump himself; and the ice caps are indeed ‘setting records’ – they are melting. It is unclear what record Trump thought the icecaps were setting – fastest time in the 1500 metres? This scientific genius then continued:

I’ll tell you what I believe in. I believe in clean air. I believe in crystal clear, beautiful water. I believe in just having good cleanliness and all.

Which is presumably why Pruitt has set about repealing the Clean Water Act and would have got rid of restrictions on methane leaks had the Courts not intervened. And the idiot President thinks there is such a thing as clean coal.

But Trump and Pruitt are professorial in their knowledge compared to the moronic Kathleen Hartnett White, a woman who would have to have intensive coaching six times a week just to attain a level of sheer ignorance. Hartnett White, who looks like the sort of woman burning witches in Salem, was Trump’s nomination for his adviser on Environmental Quality, although she has no scientific qualifications. In fact, WTF can safely say that Hartnett White knows as much about science as WTF’s left buttock knows about heart surgery. Hartnett White’s main qualification for the role is her evangelical belief that climate change is a hoax and that there are “grand schemes to decarbonise society”. Her appearance before the Senate Committee was an event so embarrassingly awful that you had to watch it through your fingers whilst screaming ‘Oh My God’ very loudly at regular intervals. Amongst the top moments was when Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse (for whom WTF has a particular penchant) asked Marie Curie 11, in the context of the oceans becoming hotter, whether she agreed that water expands as it heats. Even WTF knows the answer to this one but Hartnett White replied “I do not have any kind of expertise or even much layman’s study of the ocean dynamics.” In fact, having pocketed a fistful of dollars from the industry, all Hartnett White knows is that fossil fuels are wonderful and led, amongst other things, to the abolition of slavery. Go figure.

The Committee voted along party lines to approve her nomination. Of course it did. Most Republicans would vote for Stormy Daniels were they asked to. But her nomination lapsed through lack of Senate time. She was re-nominated but it appears that even the White House could not face seeing Sen. Whitehouse managing not to laugh at the asinine answers from a woman clearly as blissful in her bigoted stupidity as Trump is in his and there was a danger that the full Senate might not have approved her. So her nomination has been withdrawn. The real question is why she was ever put forward. Welcome to the Fox News World where you only hear the answers you want because the only people you ask are either as stupid as you are or too bloody craven to give you the right one.

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Our review of the week’s sartorial shockers all come from the Grammys, held this year in New York. There are equal numbers of appallingly dressed men and women so this is a truly gender equality review. We start with beauty guru (he now has a range for MAC), Patrick Starr. WTF has no idea what he is wearing. None at all.

Those plump thighs put WTF in mind of Nicholas Nickleby and Wackford Squeer’s description of his son, “What do you think of him, sir, for a specimen of the Dotheboys Hall feeding? Ain’t he fit to bust out of his clothes, and start the seams, and make the very buttons fly off with his fatness? Here’s flesh!’ cried Squeers, turning the boy about, and indenting the plumpest parts of his figure with divers pokes and punches”.

Singer Rapsody, wearing something strange.

Why is she attired as a crossdressing Victorian station-master in most ill-fitting trousers? 

Actor Cody Longo, wearing who knows what?

This is a walking up yours to the World Wildlife Fund. Many fine animals have died in vain….

Model and TV presenter Heidi Klum,wearing Ashi Studio.

Yet again, Heidi wafts effortlessly into the category of “That’s Not Even Clothes” It is becoming tiresome and the minge triangle is particularly nasty.

Rapper Lil Uzi Vert, wearing Tripp.

He is a bell-bottomed prison warden and that skull-head cross and chain is clearly so heavy that he can barely hold his head aloft. Call the osteopath!

Singer SZA, wearing Atelier Versace.

This is a veritable vaginal Victoria Falls.

Musician and professional son Jaden Smith, wearing what looks like a collection of clothes from a skip.

Jared has always been annoying and he is becoming more annoying with every day that passes. He has had to write the name of his debut album SYRE on his hand, lest he forget it. If only we could do the same…

Singer Kali Uchis, wearing who knows what?

If an astronaut went to a fancy dress party as a pink Quality Street sweet, this is what she would look like.

Rapper Tyler, the Creator, wearing Louis Vuitton.

At first Tyler, the Pretentious, sported a large fur hat last seen on a border guard in Uzbekistan, but then he removed it to show this ……

Pillock. Love the coat though..

TV presenter Giuliana Ranic, wearing Mikael D.

Giuliana turned up in a minge cobweb on the Red Carpet for E! to interview other people on the Red Carpet. Giuliana’s dresses are getting smaller and smaller. By the time we get to the Oscars, she will be wearing nothing but a pair of stilettos. 

Singer Sir Elton John and his husband David Furnish, both wearing Gucci.

David looks like the receptionist at the Cancun Crowne Plaza and Elton is wearing  a jacket composed of shiny shower tiles and a blouse with a pussycat bow, like a sparkly reincarnation of Mrs Thatcher but with a hair weave. And unlike Mrs T, who dusted people up verbally, he is wearing actual knuckledusters with his name on them. 

Singer Pink, wearing Armani Privé.

Armani has gone stark staring mad. Pink looks exactly like Boombah the Lion in the Indian version of Sesame Street

Rapper GoldLink, wearing God knows what….

GoldLink is evidently taking part in a post-modern revival of Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Pirates of Penzance. Why is he wearing zipped leather knickers over his trousers? What happens at wee-wee time? Is the top zip linked to another zip? That is an awful lot of unzipping…

Finally, we have singer, Fox News contributor and would-be Congresswoman Joy Villa, wearing a Pronovias wedding gown, which she then hand painted with a foetus, and paired with a tiara and a hand-painted Choose Life handbag.

This is a novel form of campaigning – wear your manifesto. Joy is a devoted Trump supporter, and turned up to the event last year in a #MAGA dress, but this is even more offensive. Before finding the Alt-Right, Joy used the Grammys to flash her bits in order to get noticed, like the ridiculous dress composed of iron railings she wore in 2015. Joy may choose life. WTF chooses life without Joy.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Ayesha from Stepney who is “impelled” to suggest the Poor Door for inclusion in this section. Ayesha puts it so well WTF need only quote her verbatim. ‘This foul innovation describes a hidden, back-door entry provided for occupants of “affordable” flats in mixed public/private housing developments – to avoid distressing visually sensitive occupants who have paid the higher, market rate. 

The Poor Door has been blithely admitted by leaders of Haringey council in London to feature in their controversial scheme to let a multinational developer feast on a big slice of the authority’s property portfolio – a scheme this week beginning to hit buffers erected by Labour’s national bosses’. Ayesha’s curse has worked because the Council’s Chief Executive resigned on Tuesday over the furore. It’s Got To Go. She’s Already Gone. 

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. WTF enjoyed your comments last week and hopes for more. However, there were some top suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

Think about a military parade. Think Kim Jong Un, fatly presiding over endless rows of anti-aircraft guns and goose-stepping soldiers, their kicks higher than the chorus line of the Folies Bergère. Think Mussolini and Hitler, shouting their heads off in front of ugly buildings to a roaring crowd. Think May Day with tanks rolling through Red Square past the iron-faced coterie surrounding Vladmir Putin. Think, rather more agreeably, Bastille Day in Paris with President and Mme. Macron waving up a storm. We Brits do not really go in for that sort of thing. We do not flaunt our missiles, not that we have many, or drive our tanks along the Mall. The best we can do is the Edinburgh Tattoo, or bringing out the Red Arrows on a Royal occasion, or mustering a battalion in Whitehall for the annual Trooping the Colour. Or the odd marching band at the Wembley Stadium before the Cup Final.

Now think Washington D.C. on a summer’s day. Picture it. There will of course be the largest crowd ever assembled. Period. Every sort of military vehicle, from scooters to Sherman tanks, will rumble along Pennsylvania Avenue, causing irreparable damage to the infrastructure. Aircraft carriers will block the Potomac, poisoning the fish. The air will be thick with the roar of fighter planes ruining the air quality, But that is alright because the Head of the EPA, Scott Pruitt, has said that global warming could be good for the environment. I mean, no one wants cold tootsies, do they? And there, reviewing this magnificence, is Donald Trump, his hair blowing in the wind and forming a perfect golden circle around his bald pate, like the rays of the setting sun. At his side is his wife Melania, her face an expressionless mask, whether through Botox or hatred of her husband, WTF cannot say. The bands will play a stirring selection of Dolly Parton classics. As the Donald would say, Wow!

So what is the purpose of this jamboree? Is to celebrate American Independence from the beastly Brits? No. It is simply because Trump wants it. Le Roi le Veult. He went to France for their July 14 celebration last year and was enchanted by the pomp and circumstance. He was probably wholly unaware of its historical significance but it would not matter in any event because with Trump, it is all about him. He wants to be celebrated. He wants to be idolised. Hell, he wants to be deified. He has already indicated that anyone who did not applaud his rambling State of the Union speech was un-American and “treasonous”. He has already described the media who criticise him as “Fake News” and “enemies of the people”. It is but a hop, a skip and a jump to the next stage of El Presidente Trumpetto and the Biggest Parade Ever.

Meanwhile, there are people who want to piss on his Parade. The Pentagon thinks it is a waste of money which could be better used to support veterans and buy equipment. The City of Washington DC is worried about the cracked roads. Everyone else is worried about the cracked President, and bemused that a five-times draft dodger with supposed bone spurs, a man who never served, whose sons never served, has such an affinity for all things military. And of course for him the best thing is that, like everything else he does, it is all at someone else’s expense.  To the protesters that will inevitably gather at this event, here is some advice – bring a giant wind machine. And to El Presidente -wear a hat.

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Both readers of this blog and followers of @WTF_EEK, some of whom are the same people, rose up last week on seeing Her Holiness the Duchess of Cambridge wearing two scandalously horrible dresses by Erdem during her recent visit to Sweden. There was however division as to which was the more horrible, so WTF has featured them both. We start with the horrible blue one, and also stop to sneer at Crown Princess Victoria, wearing Instyle.

Yes, Kate is pregnant but that is no excuse for going around wearing a designer bedspread. As for Crown Princess Victoria, she should pursue Instyle for gross misrepresentation because there is nothing remotely stylish about this rave from the 70s grave. As WTF aficionado Bespoke Finishes remarked, “Holy hell, the blue dress is horrible and the other outfit looks like it comes from Primark”.

And here is HRH in the horrible yellowy one. The gentleman accompanying her is the British Ambassador.

Apart from the fact that this is the colour of the urine from a diseased bladder, your late granny had that pattern on her spare bedroom curtains and it is also very frilly and flouncy. As WTF aficionado Jo Franks remarked, “I wouldn’t wrap a dead cat in that…”. Indeed, the RSPCA would be highly displeased were she to do so. As would the cat.

To the NFL Honors Gala in Minneapolis and football star Von Miller.

WTF is all for originality, but there is originality and there looking like a prat. Wearing a multi-strand necklace over a three piece suit and a polo neck sweater falls into the second category. Meanwhile, this is another sad example of men in trousers with an elephant-vagina crotch. Why? WHY? WHY???

Meet fashionista and TV personality EJ Johnson at the Tom Ford menswear launch in New York.

EJ is the son of Magic Johnson but no magician could conjure this outfit into anything palatable. By the way, EJ – Cruella de Vil called.  She wants her coat back…

More evidence that Tom Ford has gone down the pan as seen on singer Halsey.

The stupid, thrush-inducing bodysuits of the 90’s are back with us and this one is going to cause several trips to the drugstore for large tubes of Canesten. It makes you feel sore just looking at her. Tits, hips, a low-slung crotch and follow-me-home-and-fuck-me shoes. Classy.

Here is actress and singer Jennifer Lopez, wearing Ester Abner.

JLo is stunning but she is 48, not 18, and even an 18-year-old would struggle to look good with breasts and limbs spilling forth from coffee filter papers. 

As for the hair, many ponies are shivering in the cold weather, their arses suddenly exposed to the elements through the loss of their tails. 

To the amFAR Gala in New York to make the start of NYFW where a number of people looked utterly ridiculous, including model Anwar Hadid (brother of Gigi and Bella), seen here with actress Nicola Peltz. She looks fine. He does not.

What are those trousers? They are not so much cropped as truncated, someone has taken the garden shears to his jeans jacket and who wears a bloody tie with a jeans jacket anyway? 

And this is preposterous Chilean pseud di Mondo looking like an absolute tosser.

Di Mondo turned up in this blog in 2014 wearing a jewelled face mask. Now he is back dressed as a bullfighter with split palazzo pants and doing an Angelina Jolie pose.  Tosser.

Finally, TV nutritionist, Gillian McKeith wearing WTF does not even know what.

Gillian, who appears to have sprained both her arms, was cruelly pipped to the post for the fabled WTF Christmas Turkey 2017 by Missoni-clad Lewis Hamilton who bolted out of nowhere to secure top spot. Now she is making an early bid for the WTF Summer Stinker 2018. On this evidence, she is looking good for a podium position at the very least, because this is equally as foul, like something left mouldering in the cupboard and found years later covered in dusty cobwebs.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Rachel from London, who is appalled by the new excesses in denim nonsense. Well, WTF says excesses but actually it is the absence of actual fabric that is Rachel finds appalling. Say hello to the denim bustier or “justier”.

This tat costs £35. But even worse is this “belt” flogged by Net-A-Porter for a staggering $405.

This is just taking the piss. There are about 6 inches of old jeans here sold at a zillion per cent mark up. If you are intent upon looking ridiculous, then cut up a pair of old jeans and make these “garments” yourself. It’s Got to Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. WTF enjoyed your comments last week and hopes for more, plus there were more top suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

You know when you invite someone to dinner and they just stay on after everyone else has gone home, drinking their way through your booze and ignoring your scowls, yawns and heavy hints to leave? Eventually, you are forced to offer him the spare room just so you can get some sleep. Next morning, he is up demanding a cooked breakfast, freshly squeezed orange juice and coffee whilst hogging the hot water and clean towels. That evening, he is still there, waiting for his dinner. And he just stays. And stays. And stays. Now multiply that by half a decade. That is Julian Assange, who has been holed up in the Ecuadorian Embassy in London since 2012 to avoid arrest. He does not like it there. His living quarters are spartan, a small bedroom converted from a ladies toilet, with a bed, a sunlamp, a running machine and internet access. The Ecuadorians, who took him in for reasons they probably can barely remember, hate the sight of him and want him out. The Met Police lurk outside, at huge expense to the taxpayer. No one is happy.

This week, Assange sent M’learned Friends to court to ask the Chief Magistrate to discharge the arrest warrant against him. That warrant is extant because he skipped bail, stuffing his sureties in the process, and sought refuge in the said Embassy to avoid being shipped out to Sweden to face charges of rape. Assange maintains that those charges were trumped up so that, on arrival in Sweden, he could be extradited to the US to face charges of publishing State Secrets on Wikileaks. M’Learned Friends argued that as the Swedes had got fed up and dropped the charges (one of the charges is now time barred in any event), the bail matter was disproportionate and should also be dropped, and that he has been punished enough after so many years of house arrest in the Embassy, suffering from depression, deprived of natural light, a dentist and his liberty. It was, it was said, the equivalent of a prison sentence.

The Chief Magistrate was unimpressed. She pointed out that it was not for Assange to dictate how the law should operate. He had skipped bail, which is an offence. She felt that he was not detained in the Embassy; he had chosen to enter it, he was free to leave it at any time, people could come to visit him whenever they wanted, he could eat and drink and retire to bed when he chose and that denizens of HM Prison Wandsworth might well prefer his living conditions to their own. She might have added that Pamela Anderson was able to visit him. And Nigel Farage could come as well (actually, the old lags definitely have the edge on that one). In short, she ruled, he could fuck right off. And so say all of us.

Assange’s whining, deluded portrayal of himself as a cross between the Prisoner of  Zenda and Nelson Mandela on Robben Island could not be less accurate. How likely is it that he will be extradited to the US when Donald Trump proclaimed during the US Election campaign “I love Wikileaks”? And how can you allow Assange to skip bail unpunished? What happens at Knightsbridge Crown Court when some hardened criminal declines to appear on charges of burglary and GBH on the grounds that what applies to Assange should apply to him as well? It may not be as luxurious as the nearby Carlton Tower, but Assange is in the Embassy because he is unwilling to face arrest were he to leave. It is a self-inflicted wound. He is no hero. He is a weaselly, self-aggrandising, delusional, coward. He can either stay there and rot or the Ecuadorians can stop serving him food and starve him out. Either way we have all heard more than enough from him.

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We start our survey of the week’s sartorial stupidity with the 2018 NME Awards in a rain-soaked London and rapper Stefflon Don.

Stefflon resembles a titsy bird of prey in lacy boots.

The rest of the post is from New York Fashion Week and what a dismal collection of people await you, starting with Beyonce’s stylist Ty Hunter, wearing Younhee Park at the Concept Korea show.

He looks like an extra from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. What is he supposed to be? He has very large feet in very shiny shoes, like a clown, which is fitting.

Actress Selma Blair, guest-modelling for Christian Siriano.

Selma seems to have been scribbled all over by a particularly exercised schizophrenic and she is wearing what looks like a slanket. What is the point of wrapping a slanket around your torso when the wind is whistling up your wotsits?  What happens when you want to do a wee-wee? And why on earth is her body-stocking worn over her shoes?

Stylist June Ambrose, wearing DSquared2.

This is the lovechild of a lumberjack and a giant red squirrel with sparkly bootees and a silly hat.

Model Ping, wearing Negris Le Brun.

Call her old-fashioned, but WTF is struggling to understand how a pair of frayed and grubby bloomers constitutes fashion. Ping is dressed for yet another film version of 50 Shades of Filth, this one set in the Victorian era, in which our heroine does the dirty, kinky-style, with the Master of the house.

Actress Tatyana Ali, wearing Taneasha Prunty.

She is lovely and her smile is infectious but there is more droopage than an overladen azalea plant and it is, ahem, somewhat tight around the lady parts.

Actress Paula Patton, wearing Helmut Lang, seen with actress Roselyn Sanchez, wearing Maria Lucia Hohan. Roselyn looks OK. Paula does not.

Paula has been assembled from two separate people, a City gent and a schoolgirl in white frilly ankle socks. Here is a WTF Rule. No one should wear white frilly ankle socks unless they are under the age of five. And certainly not with heels.

Stripper turned rapper, Nya Lee, wearing Agent Provocateur at Phllipp Plein’s show.

This falls squarely into the category of “That is not even clothes”. Everything is either on display or looks as if it is about to be.

Transgender socialite, model and actress Gigi Gorgeous, at The Blonds show.

Those are two of the most improbable tits WTF ever did see in her life, like a couple of bald men hiding behind a bandana, whilst the shorts, complete with mesh and minge magnolia, are to be deplored.

And finally, makeup artist Amra Olevic and Sammy M (no, WTF doesn’t know who the hell he is either) also at The Blonds show. Careful with this one.

Amra, who is a Kim Kardashian lookalikey, is displaying gargantuan amounts of tit and it is 50:50 whether the imminent Minge Moment will happen before or after the imminent Nipslip. As for Freddie Mercury lookalikey Sammy, his outfit is as silly as anything WTF has seen for a long time. Kilts are supposed to be worn with a sporran, not a bumbag, whether Gucci or otherwise, and with some species of shirt or top. In Scotland, they toss the caber. Sammy, alas, just looks a tosser.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Yvonne from Jedburgh, who is rightly upset about Tory MSP Jeremy Balfour. Balfour attempted to table an amendment to the Scottish Security Bill in the Scottish Parliament “to review the eligibility of terminally-ill people for benefits if they are still alive after three years.” Yvonne says that this is a new low for a Tory. She is right. What is supposed to happen? Is someone to go round to the terminally ill person’s house and tell them hurry up and die? As often, one is put in mind of the words of Lady Bracknell when told that Algernon cannot dine with her that night because his (made-up) friend Mr Bunbury has taken a turn for the worse. “Well I must say, Algernon, I think it is high time that Mr. Bunbury made up his mind whether he was going to live or to die. This shilly-shallying with the question is absurd”. Mr Balfour has SO Got to Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. WTF enjoyed your top comments last week and welcomes back Andrew Purcell after an illness – he has been much missed. There were also some excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers, 

On the face of it, the Parkland school shooting, where 19 year old Nicholas Cruz murdered 17 people with an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle, was just one more incident when a homicidal maniac exercised his inalienable right to murder innocent people at random with a deadly weapon. In Florida, you can buy a semi-automatic rifle at the age of 18 but you have to be 21 to buy a beer. A few days after Parkland, the Florida senate refused to pass a motion banning AR-15s but voted to condemn pornography as harmful to teenagers. In Texas, you can own as many guns as you like but you are not allowed to own more than six dildos. Wanking, it seems, is more dangerous than bullets. Politicians, many of whom fortified by fat cheques from the National Rifle Association, wrung their hands and offered up the customary thoughts and prayers. Donald Trump, who trousered $30m in NRA campaign contributions, paid a flying visit to the local hospital and to the Sheriff’s department, where he was photographed grinning broadly and giving a thumb’s up sign. He then went to Mar-a-Lago, 40 miles down the road, where he had been going anyway, and showed his respects by abstaining from golf for two whole days. Everyone assumed that once the funerals were over, everything would return to normal – until the next time.

Except that did not happen. The kids from Marjory Stoneham Douglas School, shattered, angry, in mourning, resolved to take a stand. And so they spoke out. They rallied. They railed against the NRA and those GOP Senators, including Florida’s Marco Rubio, who took NRA funds. They blamed Trump for repealing Obama’s law that people suffering from mental illness should not be able to purchase a gun. They abused him on Twitter after he claimed – shamefully – that the FBI had failed to act on tip-offs about Cruz because it had been too busy pursuing him about Russian collusion. They called for a ban on weapons. They descended on Tallahassee, the State Capital, lobbying their representatives and seeking out the Governor. They demanded that other kids in other schools should not have to watch their classmates shot, should not have hide in cupboards whilst texting their parents goodbye, should not have to attend the funerals of people they grew up with. They were critical. They were vocal. They were articulate. They were astonishing. This week, some of them (the less vocal ones) attended a meeting at the White House, where their President was forced to listen to their stories. Others appeared on a televised CNN Town Hall where they confronted Rubio (who at least had the balls to turn up, unlike the Governor who stayed away) and Dana Loesch, a representative of the NRA. President Trump claimed that he will now take action. Let us see whether he does and what it is. He also claimed that the NRA are ‘great people’ and ‘true American Patriots’.

Inevitably, it did not take long before the slime slithered out to attack the kids. They were ‘actors’. They were ‘fame whores’. They were coached and manipulated by the Liberal Left, the Fake News, George Soros, the Deep State and, probably, Beelzebub. One of them had a father who used to be in the FBI! Some of them were not even injured! To these scum, any criticism of either Trump or guns is intolerable. They love the Second Amendment but they really hate the First. At the CNN Town Hall on Wednesday night, Loesch, the Bullshit Breitbart Barbie, was emollient to the victims who berated her but yesterday, in a speech to the Far Right CPAC conference, she showed her true colours, asserting that these slaughters were the fault of Law Enforcement, not guns, and that ‘many in the legacy Media love mass shootings” because ‘crying white mothers are ratings gold’. Of course, she did not say that during the CNN event to the crying white (and non-white) mothers. She complained to CPAC that she had been in fear of her life the previous day when some of the audience had (wrongly) rushed at the stage in fury. Really? Try hiding in a cupboard whilst gunfire rages around you and then emerge to find your friends and teachers lying dead in a pool of blood, having been shot with one of the lethal weapons you are sworn to protect. Then come back and talk about fear.

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Let us turn to something a little more cheerful. This is one of WTF’s favourite weeks in the fashion calendar, the week where the BAFTAs and the BRITs coincide in a cornucopia of cack. We start our survey of the week’s sartorial slop-bucket at the  BAFTAs ceremony itself and actress Alison Janney, wearing Bibhu Mohapatra. 

WTF has adored Alison ever since The West Wing and the dress itself is spectacular, but the shrug looks like the metal bit at the top of a hinged corkscrew.

This is young actress Anya Taylor-Joy, wearing Dolce & Gabbana.

Anna’s lower limbs are in full mourning but the upper thighs are out and proud. Clock the tiara. Anna is the princess of peekaboo.

To the pre-BAFTAs party and actress Kate Mara, wearing Valentino.

Yes, Valentino. This pink thing (the dress, not Kate or Signor Valentino, he is the colour of creosote) is the product of a one night stand between a prawn and a puffy pelmet. And just in case you were insufficiently appalled, Kate has added a red cross-body bag and a pair of pewter pumps, neither of which has anything to do with the price of fish. Kate’s stylist deserves a slap, a P45 and another slap.

To the BRITs and actress Noomi Rapace, wearing Matty Bovan.

This is just weird, like looking at someone’s innards through a kaleidoscope in a trippy version of Silent Witness.

Rapper Rich the Kid.

A very swirly suit, a Mayoral Chain and silly sunglasses. But kudos for carrying the  white rose.

Popular singing troupe Little Mix, in a variety of vulgarity.

From left to right, Jade Thirlwall looks nice in a long black dress and red lippie; Leigh-Anne Pinnock looks more like Leigh-Anne Pillock in a negligée by Stella McCartney who, once again, is taking the piss; Jesy Nelson is giving us the full cameltoe thing in thrush-inducing slime green leather; and Perrie Edwards is wearing a nightdress that appears to go with Leigh-Anne Pillock’s negligée but is in fact by Amanda Wakeley.

Singer Dua Lipa, wearing Giambattista Valli

Dua is very pretty but she is standing in a sea of candy floss.

Singer MNEK.

MNEK has come straight from his day job as a  short-order chef in a corner diner.

Finally, we have OITNB actress Dascha Polanco at an NBA Party. Heaven knows what she is wearing….

Let us not beat about the bush. (Indeed, WTF has never seen a bush that she has beaten about).  This is a shower curtain over baggy thermal long-johns. And the back view is even worse.

This is NOT a size thing. Dascha is gorgeous. This is a fuck-me-that’s-terrible thing.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Annie Bishop, who sent in one of THE MOST REVOLTING things WTF has ever seen. SO THOSE WHO DO NOT WANT TO SEE LADY PARTS, LOG OFF NOW AND COME BACK NEXT FRIDAY.

WARNING – HERE IS ANOTHER WARNING TO GO WITH THE FIRST WARNING…

Ready? You won’t be….

All together now…..

AAAAAAAAAAARARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHH.

This merkin is brought to you courtesy of “South Korean-born polymath” designer KAIMIN, who featured them in his New York Fashion Week show. And not just merkins but hairy-bearded merkins. And WTF has a question to ask? Why? WHY? Minge Moments are bad enough but Merkin Moments are quite beyond the pale. KAIMIN and these hairy things have SO Got to Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Thank you for your comments last week and your – in some cases quite astonishing – suggestions for It’s Got To Go, although whether WTF should be thanking Annie Bishop for the merkin is up for debate. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers, 

It has been a bad week for the Johnson Brothers, Boris and Jo. And a worse week for the taxpayer who had to pay for their mistakes, not to mention the enquiries into their mistakes. Both have been roundly criticised for failure properly to follow process but do they care? Boris and Jo both went to Eton and Oxford, where they were waited upon hand and foot by minions various. Why bother to clean up your mess when someone else  can do it?

Boris needs no introduction, a shambling, rambling, mendacious mess of a man without morals and with an overwhelming sense of entitlement. He is currently engaged in steering HMS Brexit onto the rocks but yesterday, he was dragged before the London Assembly as its former Mayor to explain the shambolic Garden Bridge project which wasted £40 million of public funds, although construction never actually started. This proposed Eden was supposed to provide pedestrians with a leafy stroll across the Thames amidst bushes and trees, even though Blackfriars Bridge, (admittedly not leafy because it’s a bloody bridge), is close by and though the public would be kept off the bridge much of the time whilst it was hired out for corporate events with the profits going to private owners. The concept was dreamt up by actress Joanna Lumley, a friend of the Johnson family, who prevailed upon Boris to champion the scheme. And he did. The tendering process was a fix with the design contract going to a firm of architects with little experience of bridges and with which by sheer coincidence, Lumley was associated. Guarantees were given by various public bodies, all spending our money but matching private funding never materialised. Last year, new Mayor Sadiq Khan pulled the plug to avoid further losses. Boris neither saw a problem nor apologised. Instead he bemoaned the lack of vision in killing Joanna’s scheme. But then when you’re about to plunge the whole British economy into chaos, who cares about £40 million?

Meanwhile, Jo was also playing the chumocracy card. As Minister for Universities, he set up a pointless quango called the Office for Students. Advertisements were placed for Non-Executive Directors and for a “Student Experience” representative.  220 people applied for the NED role and 131 for the Student role in a process that was supposed to be fair and impartial and result in a diverse board. But Jo approached Boris’ mate Toby Young, a journalist and champion of Academy schools, suggesting he apply. Young was duly appointed by the all-male, all-white selection board, despite Jo’s boss, the Secretary of State, querying Young’s suitability and despite his reputation as a foul-mouthed, sex-obsessed, eugenics-espousing, snobbish pig with a back catalogue of revolting tweets about women’s breasts, anal rape and admitting proles to Oxford, his alma mater. His social media accounts and public utterances were never checked, unlike the choice for the Student Experience candidate, whose every tweet was closely scrutinised and who was rejected by no 10 “advisers” and Department of Education officials because he was seen as too lefty.  Jo and his colleagues wanted people like Young, white, Oxbridge, “one of them”, avid supporters of Tory education policies and good fun at garden parties. Fortunately, Young’s appointment prompted such an outcry that he was forced to resign within a week and before even taking office, despite (or perhaps because of) vocal support from the Brothers Grimm. As for the Student Experience post, none of the candidates got the gig and an interim appointment had to be made. If only one of them had hobnobbed with the Johnsons over cocktails, it could all have been so different.

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We start our review of the week’s outlandish outfits with professional showoff Frankie Grande, who hosted the Make-Up Artists and Hair Stylists Guild Awards, looking very shiny.

The jacket is cute but he has a couple of toy cars on his feet and his hair is like a badger that some cruel child psychopath has plugged into the mains.

Actress Kira Kosarin was at the same event, wearing not a lot.

Kira tweeted that the dress had ‘shifted off-centre’.  She would have done better to have shifted it into the bin. There is a silly slanted tit window, the halter neck is strangling her and there is a serious Minge Moment in progress.

Something is peeping out of that thigh-high slit, and whatever it is, it should not be on display. Yurgle. 

Now we visit the premiere of A Wrinkle in Time attended by actress Angela Bassett, wearing Greta Constantine.

Never mind a Wrinkle in Time, this is a Throwback in Time to Studio 54 in 1979. Any woman would be proud of those abs, let alone someone of 58. However, that is no excuse for going out in public looking like Scheherazade on the pull.

Here is pointless person Kim Kardashian out and about in New York, wearing a big black jacket, baggy trewsies and Celine mules.

Where to start? The My Little Pony hair? The preponderance of plastic tittage (Kim has revealed that she prevents nipslips with industrial strength gaffer tape – ouch! Imagine removing gaffer tape from your nipples – they would be would be more raw than a steak tartare). The jacket big enough for both her and Kanye, should he be so minded? The horrible trewsies? The mules whiter and brighter than any toothpaste ad? Not that she ever had it, but Kim has seriously lost it. Just go away.

Billionaire fashionista James Goldstein at Milan Fashion Week.

WTF has no idea who Ms Cameltoe is or why she is dressed as a titsy astronaut in kinky boots or what that thing is around her waist. James, who is wearing his usual leather hat and ridiculous, eye-wateringly expensive designer togs, is the colour of stewed tea and looks like Crocodile Dundee’s granddad.

To a charity do in LA and singer Britney Spears, wearing Gucci.

Britney always looks the same, wearing a tight, tiny, tawdry, little thing no longer than a tunic and barely covering her crotch. What distinguishes this outfit from her other outfits are the sandals.

 Her toes are overhanging like gargoyles projecting from a church….

This is actor Keesha Sharp at the BET American Black Festival Honors, wearing who even knows what.

You know when you slow- roast a shoulder of lamb and the bottom of the pan is thick with encrustations that are near impossible to remove, no matter how long you leave it to soak? That is what this dress looks like. It also seems to have been designed for someone about a foot taller than Keesha and WTF cannot but remark on the very visible belly-button, which she hates almost above all things.

Here is actress Jennifer Tilly, wearing a most remarkable ensemble.

Sometimes you might wear an oversized teeshirt at home, perhaps with a pair of bed socks. Or slip one over your swimsuit to nip down to the beach on a Greek island. But you do not go out to an evening event in one, particularly when it is very sparkly with a nightmarish logo. And you do not style it with what appears to be matching spats and the world’s ugliest clutch. Sack the stylist. Or get one. Or something…..

Finally, here is actress Sharon Stone at the Forbes Travel Guide launch.

Another stunning woman in her late 50s in a truly terrible dress. Last week we saw a hairy merkin on the catwalk. Now we have a sequinned merkin onstage. For some reason, Sharon has a broom head around her waist whilst the bottom of her dress is made from the remains of a bedraggled blackbird.

This week’s It’s Got To Go is the Daily Mail’s disgusting “journalist” Sarah Vine, aka Mrs Michael Gove. That is reason enough to hate her, Heaven knows, but Vine continues to provide new reasons to keep that hatred fresh. This week she slammed the BBC women who had the gall to complain that they were underpaid compared to men doing the same work.  She wrote” ‘No one else is going to say it, so I will. Some people get paid less than others, not because they are not posh enough (see Steph McGovern, who claims she is underpaid at the BBC on account of being from Middlesbrough) or a certain gender (Carrie Gracie, former China editor for the BBC who resigned over equal pay), but for the simple reason that they are not as good at their jobs as others’.

Not only is this untrue, it is vicious, cheap, bullshit from a woman who would probably not hold on to her piss-poor column were she not married to a Tory grandee, let alone earn a six-figure salary for writing it. Sarah has so Got to Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Thank you for your lovely comments last week and your suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday to consider political developments and to review the Oscar Red Carpet. Be good x

Hallo Readers, 

Ever since it emerged that Donald Trump’s personal lawyer, Michael Cohen, forked out $130,000 from his own pocket to silence a porn actress by the name of Stormy Daniels, who claims to have the goods on his client, WTF has been wondering where she can find another lawyer offering this level of personal service. Most lawyers do not enjoy a reputation for generosity. They tend to bill you for every moment they spend upon your affairs. Phone them up, you pay. Write them a letter or an email that they have to read, you pay. Draft an agreement, you pay. That is the way that it has been since time immemorial. But apparently Cohen is cut from different cloth. Shortly before the Presidential Election in November 2016, he discovered that Stormy was about to go public with sordid details about her ‘intimate relationship’ with the Donald ten years earlier. The Access Hollywood tape had just come out, the Donald was getting unfavourable publicity despite his denying any wrongdoing. Although Cohen believed Stormy’s story to be false, he felt it best to get her to sign a non-disclosure agreement (NDA) in exchange for a payout. Because of course you always pay people hush money when they are telling blatant lies. To this end, he set up a company registered in Delaware, the state of choice for people who can’t be arsed to fly to the Cayman Islands or the BVI to set up an iffy company, or do not have their passport to hand. The parties to the agreement were Essential Consultants LLC, which is not essential to anyone, and does not offer any consultancy services, a person with the pseudonym David Dennison (allegedly the Donald) and Peggy Peterson (aka Stormy). Cohen wired the money to Stormy’s bank. All this out of the goodness of his heart. You do not get many lawyers like that. Or, indeed, any.

When the Wall Street Journal broke the story, the White House not only denied any knowledge of the NDA or Essential Consultants LLC, it also denied that the Donald had ever dallied with Stormy. Of course he did. Not only would his base not like it but the third Mrs Trump would not like it, not least because the dalliance would have begun just three months after the birth of her son Barron. Cohen stated publicly that he had done everything without his client’s knowledge, even though rule 1.4 of the New York Bar Rules of Professional Conduct requires him to keep his client informed of all steps taken on his behalf and to consult with him about them. No one was much surprised that the Donald may once have dallied with Stormy or, indeed, with anyone else. Or cared much. He was always a serial shagger. But for someone, whether he knew about it or nor, to pay off a porn star to help his election prospects, and then to fail to declare it as an election expense, is not just a probable breach of US Election Law, it is sleazy. As usual, the cover up is way worse than the (alleged) offence.

Last week, Stormy declared that the NDA was void. First, she said whilst she and the company had signed it, David Dennison had not. Second, even if it was valid, she claimed that Cohen had invalidated it by talking about it. Cohen, still apparently acting without any reference to his client, went to arbitration under the NDA and got a retired judge to issue an injunction to prevent Stormy from going public. Whereupon Stormy’s lawyer filed a court case against the company and the Donald alleging that he, Cohen and others had attempted to intimidate Daniels and shut her up and seeking relief. Not the sort that Stormy is said to have offered the Donald, but a declaration that the NDA was invalid. At which point, we all got to see the said NDA, because it was attached in full to the claim. It is quite a document. Amongst other things, it assigns to DD all copyright in “paintings, video images, still images, e-mail messages, text messages, Instagram message, facebook posting or any other type of creation by DD.” Paintings? WTF was unaware that the Donald ever painted anything other than his face. Plus Stormy has to pay DD $1m for every breach of the NDA.

 If St Michael of Cohen really did all this without his client’s knowledge, which is about as likely as orange pigs with comb-overs flying down Pennsylvania Avenue, why did the Donald’s Press Secretary tell journalists that he “had won an arbitration” on an agreement he was not a party to and knew nothing about? But hey. If St Michael is disbarred or disciplined for breaching his professional obligations and if he really did shell out $130,000 of his own money (plus all that travel and company start-up costs), at least he will have the consolation of knowing that he is a really, really, lovely chap. We can but hope that the Donald appreciates it. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his all for his friends.

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We are now off to the Oscars to peruse the shocking sartorial choices made both on the Red Carpet and at the after-parties. We begin with director and writer Agnès Varda, aged 89, wearing Gucci.

This is a lot of floral. It is understandable that Agnès would want to cover her décolletage, but the sweater under the pyjamas under the dressing gown, not to mention the stripes, is a lot of a lot. As WTF aficionado Bindy noted, Gucci has given Agnès a rope to hang herself with. She looks as if she has wandered downstairs from the bedroom into her granddaughter’s birthday party.

Actor Timothée Chalamet, wearing Beluti.

Timothée is dressed for his First Communion. His mother kindly shortened his trousers but she seems to have overdone it. Either that or he had a sudden growth spurt.

Skier and Olympic medallist Lindsey Vonn, wearing Christian Siriano.

Lindsey is dressed as a saloon girl in a John Wayne western.

Teenage Mom Farrah Abraham, actress Phoebe Price and German ‘personality’ Sophia Vegas. Sophia is wearing Royal Legacy and Phoebe is wearing Jovani.

Farrah has gone very Jessica Rabbit with the hair. Her dress is nice and surprisingly modest but having made two full-on sex tapes, everyone has already seen her wares. Phoebe and Sophia are giving us the full pastel minge waterfall look. They are all doing that forward knee thing that WTF really, really hates and she would prefer it if the three of them just went away.

Actress Salma Hayek wearing Gucci.

It’s here! The ultimate Gucci luxury loo roll cover with diamanté trim. Meanwhile, whoever did Salma’s hair and makeup needs a slap, a P45, and another slap.

Actress Haley Bennett, wearing Christian Dior.

Dior assembled this dress from a roll of garden turf over mosquito netting and the illusion panel polo neck with a visible seam is like a large tracheostomy scar.

Young actor Darrell Britt-Gibson, who needs a word with his tailor.

Love, love, love the shocking pink jacket and the skinny tie but those trousers are half up his shins and his shoes are too big.

Actress Andra Day, wearing Zac Posen.

It is as if Cath Kidston had taken up residence at Versailles making curtains. And Andra’s mules are the same colour as the carpet. 

Self-publicist Blanca Blanco, wearing who knows what?

By Blanca’s very low standards, she is positively covered up – remember her effort at this year’s Grammys – but this is not so much a gaping tit window as a conservatory with the roof off. As for the sandals, the thick ankle strap makes her look as if she is wearing an electronic tag.

Actress Nicole Kidman ,wearing Armani Privé.

The colour is fantastic and the bodice is fine but from the waist down it is far from fine. Indeed, fine can be sighted only with a telescope. The huge bow is excessively labial and Armani has lumped in some genitalia curtains for good measure.

TV person and actress Paris Jackson, (daughter of Michael), wearing Atelier Versace.

Paris is dressed as a trapeze artist with shoulder pads. Hate the tattoos. Hate the floaty bits. Hate the pose. Hate the pop-eyed gaze. Awful.

Actress Taraji P  Henson, wearing Vera Wang.

Vera Wang giveth and Vera Wang taketh away. The skirt is lined but there is a thigh high split provoking fears of an imminent Minge Moment. And the top is unlined, giving us full view of a couple of giant nursing pads.

Singer St Vincent, wearing St Laurent.

She looks like a bedraggled Playboy Bunny half way out of her hutch. She has a pointy pubes pelmet and one of her bunny ears is hanging from her waist. What happened to the other one? It is all so terribly, terribly, terrible.

Albanian shocker Bleona Qereti wearing not much at all. WARNING!!  NIPPLES AHOY!

Bleona wore something very similar at the AMAs in 2014, to whit, not enough. It comes to something when one can only be grateful that she is wearing panties. After the 2014 AMAs, such was their shame that Bleona’s parents in Albania barricaded themselves inside their house and refused to come out, Wait until they see her in another sparkling fishing net, but this time her chest fully on show. WTF hopes that their local hospital has dusted off its defibrillator…. 

Finally, skater and Olympic medallist Adam Rippon, wearing Moschino and “styled” by Moschino director Jeremy Scott. 

WTF aficionado Andrew from Holborn was so appalled that he messaged WTF as follows. ‘If you don’t feature Adam Rippon’s Oscars’ outfit (with the accent on ‘out’! – he looks like a posh extra from the movie Crusing) in next Friday’s column, I will send you to an ophthalmologist!’ Andrew, do not worry. Here he is. WTF has a lot of time for Adam, who, as an openly gay man, refused to meet homophobic horror, US Vice President Mike Pence, at the Winter Olympics. However, turning up as The Gimp in a tux with cutaway shoulders just will not do, even if would cause Pence to choke on his cornflakes.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF stalwart Yvonne Ridley who has alerted WTF to an utterly foul new phenomenon – the halo eyebrow.

No. No! NO!!!!!!!!!!! This is not heavenly or holy.  As Mephistopheles said in Dr Faustus: ‘Why this is hell, nor am I out of it.’ This has very definitely Got to Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Thank you for your top comments last week and for your suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

As fans of Midsomer Murders can attest, living in an English idyll does not preclude murder and mayhem but no-one associated leafy Salisbury with attempted homicide until a fortnight ago, when a father and daughter were found in a bad way on a public bench, poisoned with Novichok, a Russian nerve gas developed decades earlier. The father and daughter were  Sergei Skripal, a former Russian spy turned double agent and now living in the UK and Yulia, who was visiting him from Moscow. They had wandered out on a Sunday afternoon for a drink and a spot of lunch and ended up in intensive care where they remain in critical condition. The police sergeant who found them, Sgt Nick Bailey, also fell seriously ill, but is recovering. A number of people were treated in hospital immediately after the incident and were discharged  but anyone who was in the pub or in the restaurant has been advised to wash their clothes and to isolate anything that cannot be washed, which is hardly encouraging. No one knows what the long term effects will be. 

The gas was developed in Russia, the victims were Russian and Russia has a grim history of murdering its political opponents, including here in the UK. In 2010, Vladimir Putin warned “traitors will kick the bucket, believe me. Those other folks betrayed their friends, their brother in arms…”. Not to mention the newsreader on Russian television who after the Skripal attack warned “traitors or those who simply hate their country in their free time, don’t choose Britain as a place to live. ..in recent years there have been too many strange incidents with grave outcomes there.” Theresa May clearly believed that Russia was bang to rights. Most people do except Jeremy Corbyn, who is urging caution and finding himself accused of high treason as a result. Certainly, anyone could have manufactured the gas, as the instructions are available if you know where to look, and the way that the attack was carried out was sloppy. The Sun speculated that the attack had been lodged by Yulia’s ex boyfriend’s mother, which seems a trifle far-fetched. Russia has form and motive. Who else would have wanted one or other of the Skripals dead? 

May suddenly grew some balls and condemned Russia. Her reaction was more impressive than the Defence Secretary, pipsqueak Gavin Williamson, who told the Russians to go away and shut up. They must be quaking. Nor do they seem too crushed by our sanctions. 23 Embassy diplomats (i.e. spies) are to be expelled, Russian intelligence will be “degraded”, Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov’s invitation has been withdrawn and Prince William will not go to Russia to support England in the World Cup. And er, that’s it. Does anyone think that Putin is bothered by HRH’s no-show or that Lavrov will miss his chat with Boris Johnson? They will expel British diplomats (i.e. spies) and continue to deny all knowledge of what happened. 

The only way to hurt Russia would involve something more. Like persuading many other countries to boycott the World Cup – but why would they? Europe is hardly frienly at the moment. The South American countries are unlikely to care. Saudi Arabia and Iran are not exactly bastions of human rights. FIFA and the sponsors of this bloated corruption-fest will never let it happen. Or we could confiscate some of the Russian properties in London owned by the oligarchs who owe their success to Putin’s patronage. Neither will happen and so May can threaten all she likes. We are a little country.  We cannot hurt Russia. And so Russian traitors and passers-by will continue to be injured or killed in our green and pleasant land because there is damn all we can do about it.

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We turn to more frivolous matters and our weekly sartorial survey of shame, starting with Madonna and Kim Kardashian giving a You Tube beauty seminar.

Beauty seminar? These two have hardly got an original working part between them and their faces are fuller of Botox than a convoy of lorries loaded with Botox leaving the Botox factory. And they are both wearing underwear as outerwear, although at least Madge is wearing a jacket.

We pop into the TRIC TV and Radio Awards in London where we encounter WAG and fledgling celebritee, Rebekah Vardy, wearing Whyte Studio.

Rebekah appeared on last year’s I’m a Celebritee, Get Me Out of Here and she will doubtless next pop up on Strictly Come Skijumping, although she has no obvious claim to fame save that she is more orange than an orange and is married to footballer Jamie Vardy.  But she got to have her moment on the Red Carpet, dressed, for reasons that can only be guessed at,  as a pastel Poldark.

Next up we have actor Penélope Cruz at the premiere of Loving Pablo in Madrid, wearing Versace.

Several years ago, Jean-Paul Gauthier went through a very annoying phase of sending out beautiful women in stupid half-and-half outfits. Now Versace is at it. At first glance, Penélope seems to have slipped a long evening coat over one shoulder, but there is nothing to go on the other shoulder. The whole outfit makes her look like a shimmering black beetle.

Here is Mel B launching yet another series of America’s Got Talent Even If The Judges Don’t. 

This dress is typical of Mel’s wardrobe choices, i.e. it is tacky, tawdry and far too short. It appears to have been stitched together from heavily embroidered place mats, the sort you get when you go to tea at your granny. In case you are wondering how it stays up, it has an illusion panel and you can see the seam running from breast to clavicle, like the joint on a doll.

To the iHeart Radio Music Awards where a variety of very badly attired people got together for no obvious purpose. This is rapper Young Thug, wearing who knows what?

The techicolour vomit artist’s smock is bad enough but WTF’s main disapprobation is reserved for the ridiculous white trousers exposing plenty of purple-socked ankle. In Victorian times, women flashing their ankles was considered to be erotic. in 2018, it is the men doing it.

Actor Jackie Cruz, wearing Death by Dolls.

If she were to spin round, she could take half a dozen people’s eyes out with those tassels. Those people whose eyes were not already tight shut to avoid seeing the horror of this dress.

Here is a WTF staple, singer Halsey wearing Raisa and Vanessa.

The hair is very Pebbles Flintstone but the outfit is more Jane after becoming Mrs Tarzan. Only, she wasn’t tattooed.

Singer Drake Bell wearing Gucci. Gucci!!!!

The emerald-green Bugs bunny sweater costs £885 and clashes horribly with the Let’s Go-To-San-Francisco-and-drop-a-load-of-acid khaki floral trewsies (£750) and the sparkly trainers (£495). And more ankle activity, this time in red socks.

Finally, here is actor Nafessa Williams wearing Vatanika at the premiere of her new movie Tomb Raider, in which she plays cinema’s first black lesbian villain.

Yikes. If there is one thing worse than a minge moment, it is a faux minge moment. She is actually wearing flesh-toned cycle shorts under her trousers, but the fact you have to ask is unacceptable. WTF stands by her view that lace trousers are as much use as a roof rack on a helicopter.

Hallo Readers,

Do you know who these two are? You should. They have a finger in all sorts of rightwing apple pies. They have the majority of shares in the cloaca that is Cambridge Analytica. They prop up the Alt-Right shite-site, Breitbart. They donated a fortune to the Republicans to try and beat Obama in 2012 and  have given $11 million to the Media Research Center, an organisation which exists “to expose and neutralize the propaganda arm of the Left: the national news media.” They gave millions of dollars to Donald Trump’s election campaign, and insisted that he used Cambridge Analytica to run the data. They put Steve Bannon, involved in both Breitbart and Cambridge Analytica, in touch with Trump and stuck by him until Bannon turned on Trump, at which point  they told Breitbart to sack him as Chairman or they would pull the plug. The woman sat on the Trump Transition Team. You get the picture. Meet father and daughter  Bob and Rebekah Mercer.

Bob is 70 and a self-made billionaire, a technical genius who got into hedge funds in his 50s and hit the jackpot. His firm has $25 billion under management. Bob has a model train set which cost him $2.3 million. Rebekah is 43, has four children and lives in an apartment (knocked together from six apartments) in Trump Place on New York’s Upper West Side. The Mercers are not so much right wing as off the planet and still going. Despite the fact that they live the lifestyle of the super-mega-ultra-rich, complete with a 235 foot yacht, they are, apparently, anti-establishment, except the establishments they own. Bob in particular believes in minimal government, hates the Washington elite, loathes the Republican Party bigwigs and just wants to tear everything down, presumably excluding the institutions whose $25 billion he manages. They liked Trump because he was a human wrecking ball who also wanted to tear things down, deregulate everything and make America a better place for billionaires. And so they showered him with gold and helped propel him to victory. For which they deserve the torments of the damned.

Which brings us back to Cambridge Analytica. As we now know, Cambridge Analytica got hold of data concerning millions of Facebook accounts and used them to target disaffected US voters. Interviewed yesterday, Bannon, who once headed up Cambridge Analytica, was coy about how this information had been acquired, asking “everyone buys Facebook information, don’t they?”. We now know from Channel 4’s undercover film that Cambridge Analytica’s CEO, Alexander Nix and his little gang, used dodgy strategies to blacken Clinton’s name, poison the debate and spread lies. Nix, who looks like one of the members of the Drones Club running about with Bertie Wooster nicking policemen’s helmets, boasted of his role in getting Trump elected. Here is another Old Etonian with questionable morals and an overweening air of entitlement. On film, he also boasted about other campaigns he had been involved in and framing them by bribing candidates or sending Ukrainian hookers to their homes. Nix is also said to have asked Julian Assange for the Hillary emails (Assange denies it). And so all the threads draw closer. The dirty tricks. The Russians hacking Clinton’s emails and the DNC emails. Wikileaks publishing the emails. Trump’s new pal, Nigel Farage, visiting Assange, holed up like an amoebic rat in the Ecuadorian embassy. 

After Nix spilled the beans on TV (he says he was stringing the “client” along – yes and WTF is Tinkerbell), the Board of Cambridge Analytica got out the smelling salts, came over all moral and suspended him. They were shocked, shocked, that the employees of company that ran the data for political campaigns, that helped get Trump elected, and is funded by the Mercers, could do anything dodgy. Or was it because suddenly the biters got severely bit? Meanwhile, the Mercers have set up Emerdata, another UK data company with Mr Nix as one of its directors. Associates of various other billionaires are also directors because hey, how anti-Establishment to have billionaires and Etonians threatening the fabric of civilisation as we know it. As long as the Mercers can keep their homes. And the train set. And the yacht.

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We now get frivolous and go to our review of the week’s worst wardrobes, starting with TOWIE person, Bobby Norris.

It is a relief to see Bobby with his clothes on after his victories in the WTF Summer Stinker 2014 AND the WTF Summer Stinker 2015,  both times clad in nothing but a cocksock. Newcomers, be careful clicking on the links!!!! That said, there has to what Tony Blair used to call the Third Way between a cocksock and a tartan three-piece suit as worn by chorus boys in Brigadoon. And those are very terrible trousers.

Here is actor Phoebe Price. out and about in LA.

Phoebe’s principal purpose is to have her picture taken looking quite bonkers. Even the dog is facing the other way. Most nutters wrap themselves in tinfoil to avoid electrical current and whatnot but Phoebe has wrapped some round her legs, put on a sheer lace body over a thong and a silly hat and called it an outfit. One can be grateful for the thong. 

Singer Rita Ora, wearing La Perla.

Yes. La Perla. The company that makes lingerie and boudoir attire. WTF can only conclude that Rita was about to get dressed when the fire alarm went off in her apartment building and headed straight to a party wearing what she stood up in.

Actor Tallulah Rose Haddon at the Empire Film Awards.

This is red latex perve-wear. She must be so sweaty. WTF is concerned that after spending two hours putting this on and three hours taking it off, poor Talullah will, in the words of the splendid Sister Pooh, have a BEASTIE yeasty.

Businesswoman and trans activist Angelica Ross. WTF does not even know what she is wearing.

Angelica looks like she has gone through five or six takes of the attack scene in Hitchcock’s The Birds.

Singer Halsey at the Blossom Ball, wearing J Mendel.

Halsey looks like a bride in a snowstorm. There were also buttocks on display, but rather more decorously than Phoebe’s, so here they are.

WTF aficionado Tom was asking after Lewis Hamilton the other day. Here he is with Tommy Hilfiger, for whom he has just been made a Global Brand Ambassador. Astonishingly, Lewis is not the worst dressed of the pair. 

Lewis is dressed as Kevin the Teenager and is about ten years too old for those boots. Tommy is dressed as a children’s entertainer in a grey suit with a red and white trim, worn, for reasons we can only guess at, with a blue tie, black trousers and a black belt. And that little wave reminds WTF of Donald Trump’s horrible little hands.

Finally, here is singer Beyoncé at the Wearable Art Ball, wearing Falguni Shane Peacock.

Why does everything she wears have to be so sheer? She looks like a minge menorah in gold wrapping paper. Just plain disturbing,

Hallo Readers,

It has been an interesting week to be a Jew. We have had the antisemitism Jews declaring that they have had enough of the Labour Party’s failure to take antisemitism seriously and the Jeremy Jews accusing the antisemitism Jews of pretending this is about antisemitism whilst they are really just anti-Jeremy Jews. Or Blairite Jews. Or Tory Jews. Or Zionist Jews. Or all of the above. And then there are the non-Jews who support the antisemitism Jews and the non-Jews who support the Jeremy Jews. They all gathered in Parliament Square on Monday and the row has raged on all week, culminating in the Head of the Disputes Panel hearing complaints of antisemitism, Christine Shawcroft, intervening on behalf of one Alan Bull who had been suspended from the party for denying the Holocaust. She has now stepped down from that role but remains on the National Executive Committee.

In 2012, Corbyn commented on a Facebook complaint by Mear One, whose antisemitic mural had been removed by Hackney Council. Corbyn asked why it had been removed and compared this to Rockefeller removing a mural by Diego Viera which depicted Lenin. Had Corbyn looked at it, he would have seen that the Hackney mural depicted a group of grotesque, hook-nosed Jews playing Monopoly at a table held up by naked bodies. But either he didn’t look at it, in which case he had no business commenting on it, or he looked but made the comment anyway.  WTF explained to those who did not know what a grotesque caricature of Jews looks like that it looked like the Hackney mural, and explained why it was antisemitic. Education is key. WTF does not think that Jeremy Corbyn is antisemitic. But she is confident that he is not doing enough to ensure that the party he leads does more to get rid of antisemitism. And she is confident that a man who is MP for a North London constituency,  a man well versed in the history of fascism, a man whose mum stood in Cable Street, a man committed to fight racism and discrimination, knows exactly what an antisemitic caricature looks like. And if he doesn’t, then he damn well should. Roll on to 2018, where the mural was raised by Jewish MP Luciana Berger who had come across the comment. Corbyn’s people said he had not looked at it properly and he apologised. At which point, the antisemitism Jews, Labour and non-Labour, declared #enoughisenough. Not just because of the mural, but because of everything that has happened in the Labour Party. The failure to take timely action against anti-Semites. The whitewash of Shami Chakrabati’s report into antisemitism, claiming there was none when Corbyn this week apologised for “pockets” of it and for not doing enough about the thing that apparently didn’t need anything done about, and which, according to union leaders and the Jeremy Jews and the Jeremy non-Jews, doesn’t exist and is being used as a fig leaf to get rid of Jeremy and help the Tories.

You know what, Readers? Given the stereotypical views of some on the Left and some on the Right and some with no politics at all, that Jews run the banks, run the media, run the arts, run the courts, control the World, it is pretty damn galling to be told that the antisemitism Jews are not really upset by antisemitism at all and have ‘an ulterior motive’, that Jews are not allowed to complain about antisemitism without being called liars and a ‘very powerful special interest group’  (oh, the irony), that Labour MPs supporting the complaints should be deselected and are traitors. WTF doesn’t give a stuff if the Jeremy Jews deny antisemitism in the Party. The fact that they seek to silence those who have the temerity to complain is not just outrageous, it is frightening. It is one thing to say that attacks on Israeli policy are not attacks on Jews. Not all Jews agree on this, although WTF can see the difference. But comments that Jews in power are bringing in ‘backdoor Zionism’ is antisemitism. Comments that Jews control everything is antisemitism. Denying the Holocaust is antisemitism. And that bloody mural was antisemitism. And WTF will not tolerate being told to shut up, or called a liar or a Tory if she complains about it. Corbyn has got to sort it out – and sort out those who deny others the right to complain about the very racism and prejudice they and he claim to despise.

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It’s Easter. It’s Pesach. Let us cheer ourselves up with silliness in the form of the week’s sartorial survey, starting with singer Ashanti out and about. 

Ashanti is an iconic figure as she is WTF’s avatar. Every item of clothing here is foul, made more foul by their being worn in combination. As WTF aficionado Andrew Purcell points out, the disproportionate size of the Gucci lettering on her hat makes her look like a billboard. WTF has taken particular umbrage at the tit-enhancing dirndl-belt with the smily face like grinning Gretchen from Gelsenkirchen.

Back comes celebritee Charlotte Dawson at the Miss Swimsuit UK in Newcastle, wearing not enough. 

Tawdry, titsy and taffeta. Charlotte Dawson’s usual attire. Although, to be fair, it is markedly less mingy than her usual attire. Do not forget that this is a distinguished winner of the WTF Christmas Turkey 2015.

Actor Win Morisaki at the premiere of Ready Player One.

It was all going so well. Until you get to the terrible trousers and the white socks with the winklepicker shoes like an extra from Grease.

Here is Australian model Shanina Shaik at the amFAR gala in Hong Kong wearing Galia Lalav.

The dress in itself could be lovely were it not for her clavicles like a couple of coat hangers and some frankly mis-matched accessories. But here is a WTF Rule. If you have to hold your handbag over your hooha, there is something wrong with your dress. And with you for wearing it.

Also at the Gala was Hong Kong property rich person, Stephen Hung wearing his bedspread.

I mean it is a very nice bedspread. But it is a bedspread. And the bow tie looks ridiculous.

This is actor Taraji P Henson at the premiere of Acrimony, wearing Roberto Cavalli.

Stephen was in a bedspread and Taraji is in her dressing gown. This dressing gown thing is getting seriously out of hand. First Rita Ora at the MTVs. And now Taraji.  Adding saucy sandals does not make this less of a dressing gown. And it was done ever so much better half a century ago. 

This is how you wear a dressing gown….indoors.

To the Kids’ Choice Awards and former Spice Girl and TV celebritee Mel B’

It is stunningly inappropriate for a kiddies event but Mel does love a sparkling condom. This one is made out of chain-mail and looks like a knight’s long johns. 

Finally, we go to the Junos Music Awards in Vancouver and meet Canadian singer Lights.

WTF does not know which is the more offensive – the hair colour, the Minge Moment dress, the boots or the posterior patch. Frankly, it would have been much better to have turned the Lights off…..

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado and Comments King Andrew Purcell, who has managed to find something American even more horrible than Donald J Trump (It originally said produce but Andrew took great exception to the word as he has no responsibility for the horror that follows). These are Family Cloth Wipes and they are  – WTF is not shitting you – reusable arse wipes. Yes really. You use them and then you wash them and you reuse them. Presumably that is why they are brown.

 Andrew says  “I can make several really bad puns too! A choice between saving the environment and reusable toilet paper? There are some things I’d rather not pass around. Or have passed around to me”.  He is not wrong. It’s Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. WTF is taking a break and will be back for your reading enjoyment on Friday April 20. Happy Easter, Happy Pesach, Happy Everything. Be Good. x

Hallo Readers,

Whilst WTF has been on blog holiday, it has all gone off with Donald Trump and Trump’s lawyer Michael Cohen. You may recall that Cohen is the generous lawyer who sorted out Trump’s problems with women he did not schtupp, including porn star Stormy Daniels, by paying them off with his own money through a dodgy Delaware company set up for the purpose, again from his own funds. Cohen says he did not tell his client anything about the pay offs to Stormy, and perhaps other ladies, because Trump was too busy running for President at the time, and, once elected as President, was too busy tweeting and playing golf to be bothered with such trivial matters. Last week, the New York Court issued warrants for New York’s finest to raid Cohen’s offices and his Midtown hotel room and to take away loads of stuff which may or may not be privileged, depending on whether what was being discussed was legal business or criminal business or not legal business at all. Trump claimed Cohen’s premises had been “broken into” and now everyone is running about like Duracell bunnies demanding injunctions and disclosure of documents and declarations and depositions and accusing everyone else of bad faith and all manner of misfeasance. So Trump’s lawyer is under investigation by the Feds and has had to get a lawyer, and Trump has had to get new lawyers to stop the Feds getting their hands on documents about what he did or didn’t say to his former lawyer, and what he did or didn’t know about the pay-off to Stormy Daniels. And then there is Stormy Daniels and her lawyer, Michael Avenatti. (As far as WTF can see, Avenatti has not been home in weeks and has changed his address to care of CNN because, as WTF’s late dad used to say, he’s always on.). Avenatti wants to talk to Trump and is talking to Trump’s lawyers. And then there are Trump’s other lawyers, not Cohen, or the ones he had to replace Cohen with after Cohen got his own lawyer, but the lawyers he already had to deal with the Russia investigation. Those lawyers are telling him not to speak to Mueller (who is a lawyer) because Trump cannot be trusted not to perjure himself as he is a pathological liar and if you lie to the Feds, you can end up in big trouble. Just ask Michael Flynn and George Papadopoulos.

Meanwhile when Cohen and Cohen’s lawyers and Trump’s lawyers, the ones he hired to replace Cohen, who now has his own lawyer, and the New York DA and his lawyers and Stormy Daniels and her lawyer, all went to court this week to discuss who should see what documents from Cohen’s office and it turned out that Cohen had two other clients or possible clients. One is a ghastly pig from the Republican National Committee, who had impregnated a bunny girl. The other is Sean Hannity, the rabid and rebarbative Fox News host. Except Hannity says he was not a client and never paid him anything and just asked occasionally for some free legal advice. WTF told you, Readers. You do not get many lawyers like that; or, indeed, any. Although lots and lots of lawyers are making lots and lots of money, Michael Cohen continues as the Mother Teresa of Manhattan….

ps Last week, in between worrying about Cohen, and berating James Comey’s new book and calling for his arrest, Trump bombed Syria. It is amazing that he found the time.

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Off we go into the week’s sartorial shockers (and some from a week or two back) with sleaze-bucket Michael Cohen wearing Isaia.

As WTF previously tweeted on @WTF_EEK, Cohen should be locked up on the basis of the jacket alone, let alone any other nefarious activities in which he may have been involved. $3,000 is a criminal amount for money for a jacket that manifestly does not fit, and frankly  he needs to take a size up. At the very least. #lockhimup

Model and actress Olivia Culpo wearing Calzedonia.

She has a great body but this is not even clothes. This is a bikini as seen through a mullion window.

Here is actress Chloe Hurst at the premiere of  the movie I feel Pretty.

There is too much of most things and not enough of others. She looks as if she has gone three rounds with a sabre-toothed tiger….and lost.

Next up is singer Britney Spears, wearing Giannina Azar.

This is pretty much what Britney wears every time she pops out of an evening, i.e. titsy, tawdry and way too short. But this one has two distinguishing features. First, it is so tight around the tits that she is practically rubbed raw; and second, that fake tan foot blotch, like white bits on a horse, has got to go. Yikes.

Ain’t I cute?

Actor Wilson Cruz  at the Glaad (Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation) Gala wearing Vivienne Westwood.

Westwood seems to have bought up all the blue and yellow checked cloth which explains why Michael Cohen’s $3,000 jacket is too small. It is safe to say that Dame Viv has not skimped on the fabric here. Michael and Wilson could each have a trouser leg with room to spare.

This is actress Isabella Rossellini, wearing Dolce & Gabbana.

WTF was having her hair cut the other day and showed this photograph to her stylist who guffawed in horror, as well she might when someone is walking around like a choirmaster with a ruffled clerical cotta fashioned from an old stage curtain. She looks like her mother, mused WTF. “Who was that?’ asked the stylist. “Ingrid Bergman” said WTF. “Who?” asked the stylist. WTF turned her head away and wept.

Here is another guest at the same event, designer August Getty.

There is a lot going on here,  and none of it good. He looks like Lee Marvin in The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance.

This is singer Leona Lewis at the Daily Front Row 4th Annual Fashion Awards wearing Marc Jacobs.

Oh dear. Those trousers make her look like Stumpy, the eighth of the seven dwarves, she has a ridiculous sheer top with a sheer green poloneck, as if it has gone mouldy, and a 1940s wartime headscarf that makes her look like Rosie the Riveter.

Finally, this one is bad. BAD. Greet ridiculous Moschino designer Jeremy Scott wearing Jeremy Scott

OMG! Here he is greeting socialite Derek Blasberg.

WTF can say with some confidence that this is just about the stupidest thing she has ever seen, part City gent, part gladiator, part falcon-handler. Beyond frightful….

This week’s It’s Got To Go is more They’ve Got to Go and comes from WTF who wants anyone and everyone in the Home Office sacked who had any responsibility for throwing out the landing records for the Windrush generation whom we asked to come here to man our transport and health service. Now, their kids are being thrown out because they can’t prove they had permission to be here when the Home Office itself destroyed the evidence. Abject. Don’t let these buggers retire on their fuck-off index linked pensions whilst the people whose lives they have ruined are terrified and some are being denied urgent medical treatment despite paying taxes their whole adult life. They’ve Got To Go .

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

Here is the bad news.  Albert Thompson has prostate cancer.

Here is the good news. The NHS has now given him a date in May when he will start radiotherapy.

Here is more bad news.  Thompson, who has suffered from lymphoma for a decade, was diagnosed with prostate cancer and had an operation in January 2017. In November 2017, he went to hospital to start his course of radiotherapy, only to be told that he needed to provide proof of residence or else pay £54,000. Thompson had neither a passport nor the money. Why? Because Thompson is a victim of the change of immigration laws in the 1970’s and further changes in 2014 when David Cameron and Teresa May decided to get tough on illegal immigrants in a bid to stave off a mass defection of voters to UKIP. At the time, they were warned that the new laws would hurt Caribbean and Commonwealth people who came here quite legally at a time when they were not required to apply for indefinite leave to remain and have lived here for decades. But May ploughed ahead and the policy, started by her and carried on by her hapless successor Amber Rudd, a woman who makes Comical Ali look like the fountain of truth, has resulted in people who didn’t even know they were not British, who have spent their whole adult life here, who  have paid taxes and National Insurance here, who have married and had children here, have been threatened with deportation, evicted from their homes, and treated as criminals.

Thompson’s mother came here at the invitation of the British Government in 1966 to work in the NHS as a nurse. Albert followed in 1973 as a young teenager. He went to school here. He worked as a mechanic for thirty years. He paid tax. But because he could not produce his passport to show when he arrived, he was evicted from his home -A MAN WITH CANCER – and denied treatment by the self- same NHS he had paid his taxes for, denied the legal aid he had paid his taxes for and threatened with deportation. It was only after a hell of a fuss that May had to climb down, and now he is to be given the treatment he needs and the indefinite leave to remain he deserves. 

There are many others just like Albert Thompson, respectable, hard working, committed, decent people whose parents were invited here to staff the transport services and the Health Service, many who came on the Windrush as children and who were never warned that without proof of arrival, they could be thrown out of their houses and denied medical treatment and treated like scum – even though the Home Office had destroyed their arrival records, the evidence that they would have needed to remain here untroubled by threatening letters and demands for money they don’t have and the prospect of deportation to places they have no wish to go to because their home is in England. What sort of country have we become, that we are prepared to treat people like this because a few years ago the Tories were so worried about losing votes to a racist party? No one resigns any more. May won’t resign. Rudd won’t resign. No one has enough shame to do that these days. But every citizen of this country should be deeply, deeply, ashamed.

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Let us cheer ourselves up with the week’s sartorial shockingness where everyone appears to be in a stage costume. We start with the Ken and Barbie of Washington DC, Jared Kushner and Ivanka Trump. Ivanka is wearing a dress by Rodarte which costs $12,800.

No one cares what Jared is wearing unless it is an orange jumpsuit with Department of Corrections written on the back. Barbie is dressed as a souvenir Scarlett O’Hara toilet roll cover. WTF would really like it if they both just went far, far, away.

Next up, we have celebritee and former inamorata of Kanye West, Amber Rose , wearing something very bizarre indeed and Stella McCartney trainers which cost £450.

WTF has trouble in deciding what is the more offensive. The skeleton onesie, the fake nipples, the cameltoe or the fact that anyone would pay £450 for a pair of hideous trainers. This outfit is a real stinkeroony.

Next up, singer Lenny Kravitz wearing Chanel. Chanel!!!!!!!!

This might have passed muster in the Casbah in 1972. MIGHT have. Someone forgot to hem his trewsies and those shoes are plain nasty.

To the Tribeca Film Festival where we encounter actor Ansel Elgort wearing Alexander McQueen and model Suki Waterhouse wearing Dior.

Ansel’s suit is beautifully cut and the colour is great but those trainers are giving WTF a migraine and he looks like he has a couple of toy boats on his feet. As for Suki’s Dior creation, WTF once made a macrame plant holder just like it. She has been wondering where it had got to…

Here is singer Rihanna wearing Y/Project.

WTF aficionado Joanne Morley was incensed at the sight of Rihanna wrapped up in what looks like the Turin Shroud compete with nipple activity and perfectly preposterous boots. Joanne says “What is wrong with her leg? She looks deformed, has she got a toddler strapped to her hip underneath her designer hessian sackcloth?”.

Finally, Orange is the New Black actress Dascha Polanco wearing – well, who can say what the hell this is?

Yurgle. And the rear view is even worse… 

As you know, Readers, criticism is alien to WTF’s nature but Dascha looks like a sack of shit. It is not just the arse cheeks, although arse cheeks are to be deplored. If Elmo from Sesame Street went to a fancy dress party dressed as tap-dancing chorus girl, this is what he would look like.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF stalwart Andrew Purcell and not only because his point is a good one. But it permits WTF to say

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANDREW!!!! With love and kisses from your many fans….

Andrew has brought this nonsensical food poncification to WTF’s attention, courtesy of We Want Plates….

No. NO. NO!!!!!!!!! Some sort of raspberry jelly served on a sanitary pad is enough to put anyone off their food. WTF likes a laugh as well as the next person but this is just plain revolting. What bloody hell is this?

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

WWW.WTFFASHIONSHARK.COM REGRETS TO ANNOUNCE THE DELAY IN THE ARRIVAL OF TODAY’S BLOG – IT WILL BE WITH YOU TOMORROW AT 8 15 AM.

MANY APOLOGIES

Hallo Readers,

To employ one iffy professional is a misfortune. To employ more than one looks like carelessness. To be surrounded by dodgy professionals looks like you yourself are dodgy as fuck. WTF speaks of Donald J Trump, who is as dodgy as fuck. There is so much dodginess to behold that you hardly know where to look first, your head spinning round and round like Regan in The Exorcist. 

The week began with the re-emergence of the appalling Dr Harold Bornstein, Trump’s former New York physician. Bornstein, who looks like Kermit the Frog in an animal remake of Easy Rider, popped up to explode two bombshells. First, he disclosed that the letter he allegedly wrote in 2016 assuring the American people  that Trump would be ‘the healthiest President ever’, was in fact dictated by the patient himself. Not that anyone believed that a fat, septuagenerian, slob who lives on cheeseburgers and double scoops of ice-cream, who needs a golf cart to walk more than 100 yards, was even remotely healthy, any more than they believed that other dodgy medic, also now ditched, White House physician Admiral Ronny Jackson, when he said that Trump had great genes, had grown an inch and weighed only 239 pounds. Bornstein also complained that in early 2017, Trump’s bodyguard had ransacked his office and removed all Trump’s medical  records, days after the good doctor, somewhat in breach of his professional obligations, had disclosed to the press that he had long prescribed the patient a hair growth drug called Finasteride, despite it being known that it could cause erectile dysfunction, depression and erratic behaviour. WTF would not consult Bornstein over a chipped fingernail, let alone allow him access to her bits and pieces, but as long as he kept Trump supplied with hair fertiliser and fake medical reports, he clearly had his uses. Now he has been dumped and says he feels as if he has been raped. Perhaps he should join a support group ….

The week ended with the heartbreaking discovery that Trump’s now-former lawyer Michael Cohen, the one who supposedly paid off porn star Stormy Daniels from his own funds, and who is now facing the possibility of multiple charges of fraud and all sorts, was repaid after all. WTF, who had been much impressed by Michael’s generosity, is desolate, and, to be frank, she may never get over it. The news was broken on Wednesday night by Trump’s newest lawyer, former NYC Mayor Rudi Giuliani, a man with evilly-flashing teeth and an air of all-purpose malevolence, who went on a media rampage to announce that money had been ‘funnelled’ by Cohen through a Delaware company (set up to buy off floozies various who claimed to have had knowledge of the Trump todger). This disclosure was made to deflect allegations that election law may have been broken in that undeclared payments were made to benefit Trump’s campaign; but, like  Finasteride, it had unfortunate side effects. Trump had previously denied any knowledge of the Stormy pay-off, so Giuliani’s explanation suggested that Trump must have been lying. Whoops, whoops and thrice whoops. When your lawyer lands you in the shit, it is time to get another lawyer. Trump, his other lawyers, and White House flunkies all ran around in concentric circles screaming in unison. By lunch time on Friday, Giuliani’s revelations were declared to be Fake News. Trump denied ever denying he knew nothing about the Stormy pay off, even though the denial is on film; he said that Guiliani had only been on the job for one day (actually, it is a fortnight) and was not up to speed; and that nobody had done anything wrong, except of course Hillary Clinton, Barrack Obama, James Comey and the Democrats. Giuliani was then forced to issue a statement explaining that when he said that Trump knew that Cohen had paid Stormy off and had then repaid him, what he had really meant was that he, Giuliani, knew that Trump had inadvertently repaid Cohen through retainers of $420,000 a year, but had not known what the money for. So that is now clear. Not. As WTF writes this, it is late Friday night and everyone still has ample time to change their stories several times before breakfast. Meanwhile, Giuliani, who was once a fine lawyer, but appears to have gone well off the boil, will doubtless soon follow Bornstein, Jackson, Cohen, and many, many, others through the Exit Door to oblivion (otherwise known as a career on Fox News.) God Bless America.

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Let us turn to the clothing excesses of the week, starting with dancing judge Bruno Tonioli, wearing who even knows what…

WTF aficionado @MsAlliance was particularly worried that Bruno would catch a chill in that getup. Bruno is an extremely fit 62 years old, but that is no excuse for going about dressed as an American football referee in crotch-caressing shorts, not to mention that ridiculous medallion.

Next up, we have actress Blake Lively, wearing Sonia Rykiel.

There are not enough words in the lexicon to express WTF’s loathing of the bow tie. Blake resembles a contestant on Dancing With The Stars, the one specialising in Broadway tap-dancing routines.  She could be dancing with our next contestant …

Derek Hough. Derek is a dancer on DWTS and used to squire Cheryl Tweedy-Cole-Fernandez-Versini-whatever-she-is-now-known-as.

WTF is all for a bit of colour,  but Derek has come out wearing his silky jim jams….

Here is daytime TV personality Adrienne Bailon, wearing Resty Lagare.

Here is the question. Would you rather date Rob Kardashian for two years and have that collection of harpies as your putative sisters-in-law? Or would you rather pitch up at a Daytime TV Awards Ceremony in a dress that makes you look like a survivor of a shark attack? Adrienne is a very unlucky woman.  She has done both.

Singer and actress Janelle Monae, wearing Christian Cowan.

The lovely Janelle has been split in half from top to toe, half funereal black, half zingy zebra, with a side order of leopard skin in a particularly extreme example of sartorial schizophrenia.

Meet actress Lilly Melgar, wearing Patricia Nascimento.

Lilly looks as if she is naked and covered in iron filings with abundantly untamed pubes, like a sartorial naughty-bits version of Wooly Willie.

To New York and the GLAAD Rising Stars luncheon, where we meet actor Nico Tortorella.

Er…a one-sleeved iridescent coat and matching brogues. It is all a bit like a tattooed Miss Marple going to the Women’s Institute Christmas Cocktails.

Finally, we have model Victoria Clay wearing a bodysuit by Lasula Boutique.  Careful now. This one is a shocker….

That top costs £17. It is safe to say that Victoria has overpaid – by about £16 50. This is not so much a tit window as a tit carriage entrance, worn with Beasty-Yeastie -inducing flared trewsies.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes, quite separately, from a large number of WTF aficionados, all equally outraged by these utterly ridiculous jeans from LA company Carmar Denim. They are called Extreme Cut Jeans and they cost £138. Here they are…..

There is something fundamentally wrong when there is more fabric in the pockets than in the rest of the jeans. And there is a total absence of arse cover.

No really, this just has to stop. These are not jeans, they are denim G-strings and they have so GOT TO GO.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday (I promise) ,where we shall consider the merits of the Met Gala outfits. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

Democracy is a pain. You have to put up with idiotic decisions made by other people because they are more of them.  Or, in the case of the USA, there are less of them but the cockamamie system lets an orange moron win even though they are less of them. In June 2016, the majority in the UK made an idiotic decision. A catastrophic decision. We were going to leave the EU because…. because….well? In some cases, they voted to leave because they wanted their sovereignty back. In some cases, they voted to stop foreigners clogging up the system. Some voted because they were fed up with those pesky human rights, even though human rights are part of the Convention of Human Rights and nothing to do with the EU. Some voted because they wanted to give the establishment a bloody nose. That worked, didn’t it?  Some wanted to give the NHS £350m a week. Some have no idea why they voted. And others simply did not understand the facts. Even those who voted to stay. What the hell did we know about the Customs Union? What thought did we give to the Irish Border? The old saying is that in the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. In this country, we all seem to have glaucoma. The Prime Minister leading us out of the EU is and always was pro-EU.  The Opposition Leader who pretended to be pro-EU has always hated the EU. Opposition MPs who are pro-EU are silent. Government politicians who are pro-EU, and have been since the beginnings of recorded time,  are reviled by their colleagues, who actually agree with them, but for whom power is more important. And the lunatics are in charge of the asylum, with no idea what to do next, except to blame the foreigners who are not falling over themselves to assist us to leave them and who, for some unfathomable reason, do not see why they should give us exactly what we had before but without us paying for it. Who knew?

Which leaves us in the very strange position of trying to save ourselves from the worst excesses of idiocy by the most undemocratic body imaginable. The House of Lords. That body of arse-lickers, bank-rollers, lick-spittles, has-beens, no-marks, aged thespians, the clinically dead, retired generals, civil servants on a fuck-off pension, and those looking for somewhere to have a nice lunch and an afternoon snooze and cannot be bothered to join the Garrick, or who can be bothered to join the Garrick but cannot afford to stump up the joining fee or who can afford to stump up the joining fee, but who have been blackballed because they are too boring. No one has voted for any of them. Once in, they cannot be got out again, however heinously they may behave. And yet this shower, a group of people one would normally despise, and whose tenure is based upon privilege, politics and patronage, is all that appears to be standing between us and the slavering jaws of the Hard Brexiteers and the Daily Mail. At least whilst everyone else is changing sides and standing where they are unaccustomed to stand, the Daily Mail is exactly where we all expect it to be – screaming ‘traitor’ at anyone and everyone who stands in the way of an up-yours exit. For which relief, much thanks, otherwise none would even have the faintest idea which side is up.

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Off we go to to the Met Gala, where the theme for the night was ‘Heavenly Bodies – Fashion and the Catholic Church’, a celestial chance for everyone to look like a prat and for the Daily Mail to bust a gut in outrage. Let us begin with actress and producer Sarah Jessica Parker, wearing Dolce & Gabbana.

Dolce & Gabbana have dressed Sarah as the Queen of Hearts. Not Princess Diana, but the other one from Alice in Wonderland. The only difference is that Sarah is wearing a shrine as a hat.

And talking of icons, here is actor Darren Criss, also wearing Dolce & Gabbana.

Darren has got himself on his own jacket. Honestly. Even Jesus Christ did not goeth around with a picture of Himself on his garments. And Darren is no Jesus Christ. WTF also wishes to object in the strongest terms to Darren’s trousers, which have had a catastrophic fallout with his ankles.

Lawyer Amal Clooney wearing Richard Quinn.

There is a lot going on here, and none of it good. Presumably the huge semi-skirt-train is supposed to invoke the Garden of Eden, but what the rumpled silk trewsies and the tinfoil breastplate are for, WTF cannot say.

Lewis Hamilton wearing Tommy Hilfiger, for whom he is Global Ambassador.

Are those trainers welded onto his feet? He never seems to wear anything else and they look positively preposterous with that be-jewelled suit, which is not so much communion boy as Barry Manilow in his pomp. Could it be magic? No. And Readers! He has rolled up his trousers better to show off the trainers!

Momager Kris Jenner, also wearing Tommy Hilfiger.

Aficionado Julia immediately messaged WTF on sight of Kris to observe that her outfit was “like a car wash roller dressed for the garage Xmas party”  She is not wrong.

Annoying little twerp, rapper Jaden Smith wearing Louis Vuitton.

Not only does his outfit have nothing to do with the theme of the night, but the lad brought along his gold record to show us! From which WTF can only conclude that Jaden loves himself so much that he regards his very presence as a religious experience.  Just. Go. Away.

Actress Shailene Woodley, wearing Ralph Lauren.

Blimey, it is Joan of Arc re-imagined as a pantomime boy in kinky boots. ‘Au secours! Look behind you, Joan!!!! There are some dastardly Englishmen about to barbecue you! Boooo!’

Model Cara Delevigne, wearing Dior.

Cara has come to the party dressed as a confessional, complete with the grill separating priest and congregant. (Did she drink her champagne through a straw? Just asking). Doubtless there are many people of both genders who would like to enter, but possibly for motives that would then oblige them to go to a real confessional and be very, very, penitent indeed. 

American footballer Cam Newton, wearing Versace.

There is no reason why a Mountie in welder’s goggles should not be admitted to the Kingdom of Heaven, but Cam’s choice of headgear was a trifle unexpected. WTF has no problem with the jacket, and would even be prepared to overlook the shirt collar with wingitis and the wonky bow tie, but below the waist it all goes horribly wrong. His trousers are more snuggly than Prince Harry and Meghan Markle going through the wedding RSVPs, and he has also forgotten his socks.

Actress and director Greta Gerwig, wearing The Row.

The dress appears to be the result of a night of passion between Mary Queen of Scots and the Mother Superior who warbled Climb Every Mountain to Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. All she needs are a crucifix and a wimple.

Rapper Cardi B, wearing Moschino by Jeremy Scott.

Cardi, who is pregnant, is flashing a magnificent pair of knockers, but who knew that angels could be with child? 

Gucci designer Alessandro Michele, singer Lana del Rey and actor/singer Jared Leto, all wearing Gucci.

It is indicative of the madness of this terrible trio that Alessandro looks the least loony of the three of them. Lana has been shot with arrows that have also taken out the pet bird in a basket perched on her head. Jared, who should be taken out, period, is dressed as Jesus Christ with a crown of golden thorns in a blue suit and pink pussycat bow. As a Jew, WTF is unfamiliar with the New Testament, but she suspects that a pink pussycat bow was not His outfit of choice.

Singer Katy Perry, wearing Atelier Versace.

Funky Chicken meets Icarus. And remember what happened to Icarus. However beautiful the dress and boots, this is just certifiably bonkers.

And finally, singer Solange wearing Iris van Herpen.

This is the story of St Solangé of Houston who devoted her life to promoting the risible fashions of mad designers. One day Solangé went to the Met Gala in order to help Iris, a poor little Dutch girl. Iris did not have much money and could only afford to put Solangé in a dress and boots made from reconstituted plastic bin bags. Solangé stood under the blaze of flash bulbs and TV lights on a hot, sultry, night in New York, whereupon the dress and boots melted onto her, causing her to die in hideous agony. Such was her godliness, however, that she kept smiling until the end, whereupon the Good Lord crowned her with a filigree gold halo.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF of Islington who is totally fed up with see-through, peekaboo, wedding dresses, like this one from Pronovias.

If you want to get married, get married. But desist from flashing your fanny at the spouse and your guests. The spouse will get a chance to look at it later. Everyone else is just there to eat the canapés and get pissed. It has Got to Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers

If scriptwriters, high on crack, had come to a film producer with the script of Meet The Markles, they would probably have been run of town, so improbable is the concept and so unlikely the characters. But wow, what a movie! Our heroine, Meghan, (played by Meghan Markle), a mixed race actress from humble beginnings, meets Prince Harry (Ed Sheeran, fresh from his acting debut in Game of Thrones). His father, Prince Charles (Sir Ian McKellen), is heir to the Throne of England. Charles is not very popular amongst his future subjects, having divorced his wife, the late St Diana of Kensington, after he was caught carrying on with Camilla, now the Duchess of Cornwall (Dame Helen Mirren). Meghan and Harry fall in love and decide to get married. Then the trouble starts.

Meghan’s mother Doria Ragland (Oprah Winfrey) is able to pass muster but the other side of the family is rougher than a bear’s arse in a sandpit. Meghan’s father Thomas (Jack Nicholson), is a reclusive slob, having skipped town years ago to escape his credit card bills and is holed up in El Crapo in Mexico. His son by his first marriage, Thomas 11, (Russell Crowe), Meghan’s half-brother, is a window fitter aged 50 in Nowheresville, Oregon. He and his girlfriend Darlene Blount, who is 36, (Maggie Gyllenhall) have each been arrested for assaulting the other, he by pointing a gun at her head, she for beating him up, in both cases whilst they were pissed as farts. He and Meghan have not spoken for years. Thomas 11’s sister, Samantha (Sandra Bullock), 51, is sadly confined to a wheelchair and has a tongue like a barbed wire enema. She has also not spoken to Meghan in years and has fallen out with her own mother and her own daughter. And there is Thomas 11’s ex wife, Tracy Dooley (Sarah Jessica Parker), who lives with her two sons Tyler Markle and Thomas Markle 111 (Ansel Elgort and Timothee Chalamet) on a marijuana farm in Oregon (it is legal to grow it there) where they are marketing a variety called Markle’s Sparkle which, apparently, tastes of blueberries.  

Not surprisingly, only Doria and Thomas 1 were invited to the Wedding. Thomas 11 probably blew his chances by writing to the groom calling the bride-to-be “a jaded, shallow, conceited woman” and, in an open letter he provided to the news media, he warned that their nuptials would be “the biggest mistake in royal wedding history,” which suggests he knows very little about royal marriages. Samantha announced last fall that she is writing a book (allegedly fiction) called “The Diary of the Princess of Pushy’s Sister.”  Such behaviour was unlikely to get her onto the exclusive list of 600 guests. Darlene is heartbroken, telling the press “I’ve always been a fan of Prince Harry. I would love to meet the royals. I’d buy the prettiest dress if Tom and I can go to Meghan’s wedding”. Sweetie – it ain’t happening. Tracy accepts that not having seen Meghan since 1992, her right to an invitation was, at best, tenuous, but it has not stopped her from flying to London where she will appear on TV endlessly over the weekend giving her insights into someone she has not seen for 25 years. WTF mourns her absence, as she, Tyler and Thomas 111 could have replaced the dull-sounding lemon and elderflower wedding cake with some Markle Sparkle brownies…..

As for Thomas 1, he was due to walk his daughter up the aisle, although neither he nor his ex wife had ever previously met his future son-in-law. But some time last week, Thomas 1 blotted his copybook by being snapped preparing for the wedding (being fitted for a suit, reading books about English history), which had all been set with up the paparazzi by Samantha to earn her dad a few bucks. Uproar followed, at which point Thomas announced that he was suffering from heart problems and would be unable to make it to Windsor on Saturday as he was having a stent inserted instead. Frankly, rather than put up with any more of this guff, many of us would elect to do the same….

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Let us begin the week’s clothing review with former singer and Simon Cowell muse Sinitta, wearing something called a body chain by Diva Choice.

That is not a top. That is a Christmas tree decoration.

To the Cannes film Festival,  where beautiful women kept forgetting to get dressed before venturing onto the Red Carpet. There were people probably wearing more on the beach. We start with Marion Cotillard (right) wearing Guy Laroche. The woman on the left is actress Vanessa Fiulho, who looks fine.

Oh Marion! You are so beautiful but wearing a mosquito net with your chest and never regions redacted is not fashion, not even at all. Guy Laroche – you should hang your head in shame.

WTF hates models walking on the Red Carpet almost above all things. Why are they even there? This one is Natasha Poly. wearing Atelier Versace

This is essentially some armour plating worn with a crotch curtain, and it is very, very bad.

Another model, Izabel Goulart ,wearing Zuhair Murad.

Zuhair did not even bother with the crotch curtain. This is just a bodysuit with an embroidered minge mask and matching tablecloth. What happened to the old fashioned concept of a skirt that goes all the way around the waist? Asking for a friend….

Still on the Red Carpet, this is Chinese actress and singer, Li Yuchun, wearing Jean Paul Gaultier Haute Couture.

Haute Couture? Li is standing with one leg inside a deconstructed barber’s pole.

And, at the AmFAR gala, fashion victim supreme, racing driver Lewis Hamilton, AGAIN looking like a prat.

WTF has absolutely idea what Lewis is supposed to be wearing but he looks like someone serving burgers in a drive-through restaurant. And then there are the tasselled shoes. And the hat. And the glasses……

Away from London we visit the BAFTA TV awards, where we encounter Strictly Come Dancer  Katya Jones, wearing ASOS and a hat by Magia manus.

For some reason, Katya is wearing a hat inspired by those worn by Air France Stewardesses about half a century ago, whilst the dress is a minge moment waiting to happen.

And finally, at the same event was Radio 1 presenter Clara Amfo, wearing Marques Almeida.

Clara needs to call in Rentokil at the earliest opportunity as there appears to be an infestation in her wardrobe, particularly evident with the minge moth hole. That is one ugly dress….

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes (separately) from WTF aficionados Dean and Sue, both of whom are aghast at the range of merchandising tat available for the Royal Wedding. This is by far the worst, a swimsuit featuring Prince Harry. Unfortunately, his ginger beard is not in the most appropriate place. Careful now!!!! 

 

I mean, WTF need not say anything, right? Except  It’s Got to Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers, 

Did anyone actually think that an orange numbskull with the attention span of a gnat, who has been winging it since the day of his inauguration, and whose idea of diplomacy consists of removing a speck of dandruff from the President of France’s lapel whilst loudly announcing what he is doing to the world’s press, would manage to denuclearise North Korea? Why? There was as much chance of Spanky persuading Kim Jong Un to give up his nuclear weapons as there was of Kim persuading Spanky to confess to collusion with the Russians. It was never going to happen.

Yesterday Spanky called it off. It was Much Ado about Nothing without the happy ending. Benedick is played by Spanky and Beatrice by Kim. (Remember that in Shakespeare’s day, all the roles used to be played by men). At the beginning of the play, Beatrice and Benedick have a long standing antipathy. Beatrice has called Benedick a ‘dotard’. Benedick has referred to Beatrice as ‘little rocket person’ . “Courtesy itself must turn to disdain if you come in her presence.” But like many dramatic antipathies, this one bristles with sexual tension. Finally, they are brought together by the sleight of hand of their friends Don Pedro (President Moon Jae-In) and Hero (Mike Pompeo). Amazed, Beatrice and Benedick find themselves falling in love and resolve to meet on 12 June to consummate their relationship. Sadly, it is not to be. Benedick gets cocky and mints coins to mark the date, boasting how Beatrice has already succumbed to his charms. Don John, (John Bolton) goes on every Sunday news show saying that Beatrice has agreed to relinquish her rockets, and comparing her to Benedick’s former conquest Libya, who wound up used and humiliated. Beatrice gets the dead raving needle and insults Benedick’s friend Claudio, (Mike Pence), calling him “stupid” because he openly agreed with what Don John said. Benedick says he is enraged although in truth he suspects he is about to get dumped, and gets his blow in first by sending Beatrice a letter of sheer poetry. “Dear Beatrice, I saw on Fox News that you have been bad mouthing my mate, which will not play well with my 30%. So it’s over. I can go back to what I love best, golf and spreading lies on Twitter. It could have been so good between us, but you blew it bigly. I know you think you have your weapons, but remember, my button is much, much, bigger than your button. So that’s it. If you change your mind and want to play nice, you can always write or call me.”  The only upside of the whole sorry debacle is that the Nobel Peace Prize, for which Spanky was nominated by eighteen sycophantic Republicans, is further away than Pyongyang on foot from Washington DC. And we all know that Spanky cannot go more than 100 yards without a golf cart…

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To the Royal Wedding, which was rather splendid. WTF, watching on her laptop from Rome, came to sneer but turned into a blithering idiot, yelling “she’s in mint green!” and “Here comes Meghan!!!” (Yes, the dress didn’t fit, anywhere, which was a shame, seeing as it cost the same as a couple of houses in Windsor High Street, but she still looked gorgeous). The music was great and WTF even quite liked the Bishop, although he went on so long, it was nearly time for the Cup Final. Here is a tip, your Grace – do not say “I must wrap it up, we need to get y’all married” and then carry on for another ten minutes. It is irksome. Leave them wanting more…

And now let us turn our attention to the worst dressed guests, starting with fitness trainer and wannabe celebritee, Chloe Madeley, wearing Reiss, seen here with her fiancé, England rugby player, James Haskell.

James, an old mate of the groom, looks fine, but the same cannot be said of his fiancée. This is what WTF aficonado Thane Prince describes as #titgate. Even if you have tip-top titties, you do not flash them, sans bra, in a church, let alone in St George’s Chapel. And here is a WTF rule – a fascinator is not a hat, not even at all. It is a saucer with feathers.

Here is superstar billionaire Oprah Winfrey wearing Stella McCartney.

To be fair to Oprah, this dress was run up at the last minute, after she realised that her preferred outfit was inappropriate and had to beg Stella to conjure up something overnight. Even so, it is far too tight over the chest, making her look like an over-stuffed armchair, whilst the skirt resembles a bordello lampshade.

Benjamin Franklin said there were only two things certain in life: death and taxes. WTF would add a third: that the Hinge and Bracket of the Royal Family, Princesses Eugenie and Beatrice, will always feature in this blog on any big occasion.  Here is Eugenie, wearing Gainsbourg.

Come fly with me, 1970’s style.

And Beatrice, wearing Roksanda.

Like an outbreak of frothy teal pustules….

And here is their aunt, Princess Anne, wearing who knows what?

HRH has dedicated her life to dressing as badly as possible and has been faithful to that mission for the last fifty years. Many commentators likened this ensemble to Hugh Hefner’s dressing gown, but WTF takes the view that Anne is channeling  Alexandr the meerkat. Simples!

To New York and singer Solange Knowles, at the Parsons Event, wearing Shanel (sic) and Y/Project.

Oh the irony! Solange was being honoured for her commitment to fashion, but frankly, she looks as if she should just be committed. Insofar as WTF is able to deconstruct this outfit, the top seems to consist of a tit ribbon and the remains of a shirt after the rest has been ripped up for dusters. The Transformer trousers, by Y/Project, have transformed the trousers into a nappy with leg covers and groin gaps. On the plus side, the sandals are excellent.

Next we go to the Billboard Music Awards, always a rich source of sartorial stupidity, starting with a rapper called Lil’Pump, né Gazzy Garcia.

Is that a tattoo on his chin or some sort of facial growth? This whole look is simultaneously silly and scrofulous, he has forgotten his teeshirt and those jeans are a health hazard. But if you are going for silly and scrofulous, you should avoid pimping it up with a $350 Gucci belt.

Singer Julia Michaels, wearing Morphew.

WTF is sorry to observe that this dress can best be described as trailer trash bride.

Singer Christina Aguilera, wearing 16Arlington.

The last time WTF saw this much pinstripe, it was at the underwriters’ annual general meeting at Lloyds of London. Just terribly, terribly, terrible.

Makeup guru Patrick Starr, wearing who even knows what this is…..

Blooming heck…..If a mutant grasshopper went to a fancy dress party dressed as Carmen Miranda, this is what it would look like. 

Rappers Sandra Denton and Cheryl James, aka Salt-N-Pepa

Sandra is wearing an encrusted body stocking with a minge mask. Cheryl is wearing a plastic flasher mac.  They should both have stayed at home.

Finally, here are dancer and singer Frankie Grande, half brother of Ariana Grande, seen with actress Erika Joyce.

Erika needs to take a size up, and there is more train than dress. Frankie  has a badger’s bum haircut and looks like a Popeye in a tux at a gay wedding. As for the footwear, Neil Armstrong wore those boots when he stepped onto the moon.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionados Leslie and Nick from Lisson Grove, who are enraged, with every justification, by food being consumed in cinemas. They write, ‘Today’s audiences appear not to be able to sit quietly for two hours without chomping constantly from a selection of smelly, noisy, food – burgers, cheesy nachos (with that vile sauce), popcorn (which was hoovered up from the floor after the last audience left!), fizzy drinks, served in oil drum sized containers etc. The ticket price of a decent film in a comfy chair is almost topping £25 and for that price you feel that you are surrounded by a herd of manatees eating their body weight in sea lettuce. No one will starve in the time it takes to watch a film’. Agreed. It’s Got to Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

There have been some major miscarriages of justice – the Guildford Four, the Birmingham Six, Stefan Kiszko. The conviction and incarceration of Stephen Christopher Yaxley-Lennon, aka Tommy Robinson, is not one of them. Yet Robinson’s latest spell inside has prompted an international outcry. Half a million morons have signed a petition to free this Prisoner of Zenda and Nelson Mandela all rolled into one, a champion of free speech festering in a fetid dungeon for daring to expose a cover-up. The truth, however, is somewhat less inspiring.

Mr Valiant-for-Truth is a racist scumbag who used to head up the English Defence League, a bunch of far-right nationalist thugs. Robinson, who owns a sunbed shop in Luton, first went to prison for beating up an off-duty policeman who had intervened in a public row our hero was having with his girlfriend. Since then, he has been in and out of jail like a fiddler’s elbow for public order offences, assaults various, using a fake passport and mortgage fraud.  In between his sojourns at Her Majesty’s Pleasure, Robinson has denounced immigration and Islam, never happier than when someone Islamic mows down white people or stabs a copper so that he can appear at the scene and preach hate. Last year he was given a suspended sentence after recording Muslim men on trial for child sex offences in Canterbury Crown Court, conduct which could have prejudiced their trial. This year, he turned up at Leeds Crown Court where another alleged child grooming trial of a group of Muslim men was taking place. Robinson stood on the court steps, live-streaming and shouting loudly about Muslim paedophiles, despite the trial judge having imposed an order restricting any reporting during the proceedings. Robinson was sentenced to 13 months (the original ten months from last year, and another three for breaching his suspended sentence) and is now back inside.

A fecal stream of inaccuracy was released into the Twittersphere. #FreeTommy warriors are untroubled by, and ignorant of, both the law and the facts. It is said he was denied a trial by jury, although the offence of contempt of court is triable by the judge, not a jury. It is said he was denied a lawyer, although he had a very experienced barrister. It is said that he was only given a ‘prosecution lawyer’;  WTF does not even know what one of those is, but it is bollocks. It is said he was coerced into pleading guilty, except he was not. It is said he was exposing the secrecy with which perverts are dealt with by our oh-so politically-correct society, except that the case is still ongoing, in a public court, where a jury is hearing the facts and will decide innocence or guilt; the effect of the order is that no one can report anything until the end of the proceedings to avoid prejudicing a fair trial, not that everyone is forever silenced. 

Nevertheless, everyone is now a Professor of Jurisprudence, including dimwits from Dunstable and Duluth whose combined knowledge of the English legal system could be written on a badger’s left buttock. But of course, this is not about freedom of speech. This is about Islamophobia. Do you suppose that Mr Valiant-for-Truth would have been hanging about a court where white men were accused of these offences? Or that Dave from Dudley or Les from Little Rock would have been campaigning for the Bedfordshire Arkady Babchenko? Tommy is a poster boy for bigots, Islamophobes and nationalists. The same people who claim to honour the Flag and who voted Brexit to regain control of our courts do not care about any of that if it results in a racist criminal jeopardising a fair trial of brown people. As far as WTF is concerned, Robinson can rot in jail and his pig-ignorant, knuckle-dragging, supporters can shut the hell up.

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Let us cheer ourselves up with a review of the week’s sartorial slurry, starting with singer Lady Gaga , wearing Gareth Pugh.

It would be foolish to expect Lady Gaga not to look foolish, but this time she has outdone herself.  Usually there is something hanging out somewhere but here she is dressed as a bleached reggae toy leopard, complete with leopard leggies and paws. 

Meanwhile, the last time WTF saw shoulders like that, they were on Tom Brady.

Still in New York, we encounter actress Olivia Munn, wearing Adriana Iglesias.

These are cropped pyjamas worn with a bra and sandals. What this is not is outdoor wear. Not even at all.

To Los Angeles, and singer Leona Lewis wearing Atelier Prabal Gurung.

It may be Atelier Prabal Gurung, but it looks as if the St John’s Ambulance kiddies’ brigade have had a practice session, with Leona gamely volunteering to be their mock casualty. On this evidence, they definitely need more practice.

Now we find ourselves in Paris where the designers are showing us their Cruisewear Collections. Here is preposterous fashion blogger Bryanboy, wearing Louis Vuitton.

He looks like a particularly camp Cherubino in trainers about to sing Voi Chi Sapete in The Marriage of Figaro.

Gucci Cruise also produced some stinkers, like this getup on artist Petra Collins .

Petra’s silver tit looks like the finial at the end of a curtain pole holding up heavy purple velvet drapes.

This is also bad. Meet South Korean singer and actor K.A.I. 

It is true that WTF has been ranting on for some time now about men’s silly short jackets, but this is going too far the other way, i.e. downwards, not to mention the knee-length sweater underneath it. As if to make up for the excess of lairy checks, the trousers are hovering around the ankles like a pair of tartan hummingbirds. However, WTF’s chief ire is reserved for the farcical fringed headpiece.

One of our regulars, singer Jennifer Lopez wearing Ralph and Russo.

We have had Petra in velvet curtains. Now we have Jennifer in net curtains. What is the purpose of sheer white trousers other than to flap around her feet? She risks going arse over tit with every step…..

Finally, we have actress Shirley Rumierk. wearing who even knows what?

Shirley may or may not be wearing panties but that is not the issue. The issue,  dear Readers, is that she looks as if she isn’t, which is bad; and worse, she appears to have undergone a particularly stringent bikini wax, leaving only what is called “the French”. Ooh la la….

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

A border is a thing that marks the difference between your land and someone else’s land. That is yours, this is mine. It might be a fence or a wall or a river; it might be barbed wire or just a sign that says “you are now in Scotland” or “welcome to Wiltshire”.  Sometimes, you can just wander from one place to another or from one country to another without a problem, whether you are in a car or driving a bloody great lorry full of widgets. And sometimes you can’t. Welcome to Brexit.  Here’s the thing. The UK is leaving the EU. Northern Ireland is leaving the EU because the UK is leaving the EU. The Republic of Ireland is not leaving the EU. Which means that one part of the island of Ireland is going to be in the EU (their bit) and one bit is not (our bit). So how do we keep those foreigners in their bit out of our bit? What if those foreigners arrive in their bit of Ireland and then try and cross the border into our bit and thence to the mainland? Where there used to be barbed wire and body searches and queues and soldiers waving their guns at you, now you can just pop across from our bit to their bit and back again and they can do the same. The people in our bit don’t want to return to the old days, and nor do the people in their bit. But then what happened where foreigners try to get in to the UK from their bit into our bit? No one knows the answer. That is because no one had ever considered the question. That is because no one realised that there was a question. Certainly not David Davis, the Secretary of State for Brexit, who this week threw a hissy fit and threatened to resign from the Cabinet unless some definite date was set for us to regain control of our own borders and impose our own tariffs and take our country back. There is only one problem with Davis’ ultimatum. He has no solution. Nothing. Nada. 

And so we have to hang around in the customs union until a time somewhere over the rainbow when a solution is miraculously conjured up by the political equivalent of Mr Magic the Magic Man. This will involve developing some technology, which no one has actually invented yet, so that seagulls will be equipped with cameras. Anybody even a little bit Irish will be able to drive or walk or cycle across the border quite freely because the seagulls will be able to detect their Irishness and send messages in morse code to the border officials hidden in dugouts; whereas Fritz from Frankfurt with his lorryload of lager or Woyzek from Warsaw, hoping to sneak across the border and thence to London to carry out some cut price plumbing, will be identified and stopped and fined and surcharged and all sorts. And everyone will be happy. Or something.

Meanwhile Boris Johnson whose mouth and whose brain have no obvious connection, was caught on tape bemoaning the fact borders were getting in the way of Brexit. “It’s so small and there are so few firms that actually use that border regularly, it’s just beyond belief that we’re allowing the tail to wag the dog in this way. We’re allowing the whole of our agenda to be dictated by this folly.”  He is also concerned that “we may not get the Brexit we want”,  i.e. one where we can just bugger off without worrying about silly little inconveniences like customs unions and borders and being able to lie your head off to the British people without having to substantiate it, where troubles melt like lemon drops, away above the chimney tops, and bluebirds fly. His solution? Apparently Mrs May should emulate Trump in her negotiating style. Ye Gods….

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We start our review of the week’s fashion follies at the British Soap Awards where horror is always in abundance. This is a good example, in the shape of Emmerdale actress Jessica Ellis, wearing Hart Work.

Joseph has a coat of many colours but at least he did not team it with a purple tunic with seams more puckered than a camel’s arse in a sandstorm, and a bad Cleopatra haircut.

This is Coronation Street villain Connor McIntyre.

WTF has not watched Corrie for years as it has more homicides than a feature-length version of Midsomer Murders. How does any resident ever manage to get life insurance? Their premiums must be astronomical. But I disgress. The real criminal is whoever designed this appalling turmeric yellow velveteen suit, like a cheap sofa, looking even more horrible against the Red Carpet, and inexplicably teamed with baby blue trainers.

Also from  Corrie, we have actress Lucy Fallon wearing designer to the soap stars, Zeynep Kartel.

She should have borrowed Connor’s blue trainers. So ill-fitting and creased is the dress that draping a net curtain over it will not do. Frankly what is needed is a blackout curtain….

We pass by Nashville and the Country Music CMT Awards, where we meet singer Granger Smith.

This is obviously the singing Walton, the one who works in the fish market. And is totally half-witted.

To the CDFA Awards and young model Kaia Gerber,wearing Alexander Wang.

Kaia is 16 and presumably still growing, a waif-like version of her supermodel mother Cindy Crawford. Alexander Wank has dressed her in a shirt that makes her look like an extra from Escape from Alcatraz and a pair of gentlemen’s under-crackers with her skinny little legs encased in black tights. She is cuter than cute but even she cannot make this look good.

And at the same event, singer Ciara wearing Monse.

Ciara looks as if she has been caught in an explosion which has ripped the shoulders off her DJ, leaving only a fragment covering her boobs, as round as a couple of bagels. Meanwhile, appalled onlookers have been left in fear of an imminent minge moment. If Monse must to leave her with nothing but a faux shirt under the jacket, at least let it cover the crotch…..

This is fashion guru and designer Tan France from Netflix’s series Queer Guy. 

As far as WTF can see, Tan has come dressed as the UPS guy from Legally Blonde.

Finally, to the iHeart radio event and singer Meghan Trainor wearing Off-White.

WTF hates split trousers almost above all things, because they are as much use as a waterproof teabag. If a judo fighter in kinky boots went to a fancy dress party dressed as a flamingo, this is what she would look like. Matters are not improved by the pink turd on her head.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday for your WTF Summer Stinker 2018. Be good x