Hallo Readers,

WTF’s father had a variety of wonderful expressions, but the best was when WTF’s mother asked him if he wanted to go to dinner at some friends of theirs, although WTF père took a decidedly poor view of these people and particularly of the wife, who had airs above her station and was also the world’s most terrible cook. He looked at WTF mère and asked coldly ‘Why would a man voluntarily dip his head in a bucket of shit?’ And that, Readers, is Brexit. It is a bucket of shit. And yet it is now Mrs May’s headwear of choice.

May has negotiated to a draft deal to get out of the EU, except we are not really getting out at all. We will stay in the Customs Union until December 2020 as a transitional step and during that time, and perhaps for many years thereafter, we will have to aide by the rules. We will still be subject to the rulings of the European Court. There will still be freedom of movement, and we will still have to pay for our joint commitments, about £50 bn. It is a bit like Hotel California. You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave. On 29 March 2019, we are checking out of the EU. After that, we cannot use the swimming pool with its big fluffy towels, the germans will grab the sun beds and there will be no free breakfast in the executive lounge. But our credit card will still go on being charged. 

Brexiteers are furious. We are out but not out and without a say in anything. There has been much preening and pouting. Two Cabinet Ministers accepted the proposal on Wednesday but flounced out on Thursday. Six junior Ministers, people of whom WTF had never heard and would not recognise were they sitting at her table taking tea, also resigned. Top Tory tosser William Rees-Mogg MP submitted a letter of no confidence in his Leader and doubtless many others will follow suit. Tories are openly at war, as exemplified by splendid Victorian relic Sir Nicholas Soames MP, Churchill’s grandson. He had already much endeared himself to WTF this weekend by having a go at Donald Trump over his failure to venture out of doors in Paris to visit American military graves, describing him as ‘a pathetic inadequate’ who ‘couldn’t even defy the weather to pay his respects to The Fallen’. On Thursday, as oafish thicko Andrew Bridgen MP berated May in the Commons, Sir Nicholas’ stentorian tones were heard booming “Sit down, you disloyal little twerp”. It was a cheery moment on what was otherwise a bad day.

Here’s the thing, Readers. There is no such thing as a good Brexit deal because all that stuff Brexit campaigners promised us were never going to happen. It was like cold callers promising you fantastic interest rates or people emailing you asking you to help them get their auntie’s funds out of Nigeria in exchange for a slice of the action, if you first give them your bank details. It was a chimera, an illusion, a delusion. The EU was never going to shower us with contracts. It was never going to let us leave, but behave as if we had never left. It was never going to give us a better deal as non-members than we got as members. And so rather than have lorries parked for days waiting for goods to clear customs, and all-out mutiny in Northern Ireland, we are in this pathetic half-way house and no-one is happy. Bring on a second referendum and see if The People still want to dip their heads into the bucket.

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We begin our sartorial survey of silliness with Brigitte Macron and Melania Trump in Paris on Armistice weekend. Brigitte always wears Vuitton. Melania is wearing Dior.

Brigitte looks fine, if a little hungry. Melania. on the other hand, looks like Miss Marple having overdone it on the Victoria Sponge, which is ridiculous because she is not remotely large. But as outraged WTF aficionado Compos Mentis (@megatonlove) tweeted to @WTF_EEK, ‘Please tell me you’re not going to let Mylanta get away with this, er, outfit.’ No fear. It looks like Melania is hiding her secret service detail under her skirts.

To the Country Music Awards and singer Jennifer Nettles wearing Uel Camilo.

Jennifer looks like an ostrich with alopecia. 

Now we are at the People’s Choice Awards and E! Presenter Giuliana Rancic, wearing Bao Tranchi.

Ms Rancid clearly shares the same tanning technician as Donald J Trump and is the colour of a nuclear tangerine.  She has also forgotten to put on her skirt. Or to eat anything.

And here is actress Christina Hendricks ,wearing Temperley.

On this evidence, Christina’s stylist is nursing a serious grudge, dressing her like a transgender marine in seriously unflattering combat fatigues with sparkly Louboutins and a red silk clutch that has nothing to do with the price of fish.

To the Victoria’s Secret After Party where you can never be sure whether the models are still in their catwalk undies or have got changed for the event. See what I mean with model Gizele Oliviera, wearing Aadnevik.

Of course, she is gorgeous – they all are or they would not be chosen to prance up and down in their scanties. But even Gizele cannot make a bustier and long strands of minge fringe look good.

This is model Iesha Hodges, wearing Cushnie and Ochs. Scroll down slowly…

All is well until you get to the ankles, at which point things go seriously awry. If a duck went to a fancy dress party as John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, this is what it would look like.

And our third woman in white, model Gigi Hadid wearing Versace.

She is wearing a condom and more sparkly Louboutins. Even she looks terrible. Kill me now…

And finally, we have actor Ezra Miller at the premiere of his movie Fantastic Beasts – The Crimes of Grindelwald, wearing Givenchy.

Just because the movie is called Fantastic Beasts does not mean that young Ezra had to dress up a polar bear. WTF is also baffled why he has smeared that stuff under his eyes, like Aussie cricketers do to ward off the wicked UV rays, and why he has stigmata on his palms.

This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado and comment-leaver supreme, Andrew Purcell of Texas, who drew this revolting thing to her attention. Yes!!! It’s Trumpy Bear!

The blurb for this excrescence (yours for only $56 99) says ‘Don’t miss out on owning a piece of American History! Trumpy Bear is a plush 22″ bear with an attached 28″ by 30′ American Flag blanket cape. Trumpy has a zippered neck where the blanket is stored’. Mind you, Trumpy Bear appears to be much more intelligent than his namesake0 and his hair is definitely more realistic. The morons who worship the Orange One will be logging on to Amazon before you can say ‘impeachment’, using the few dollars they got in their tax cut to pay for it. It’s Got to Go. 

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. WTF enjoyed your comments last week and hopes to carry on enjoying them this week. And don’t forget your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good.

Instead, it will arrive on Saturday morning. Many, many apologies.

Here’s a picture of actor Laurence Fishburne looking utterly absurd to tide you over .

Sorry!!!!!

Hallo Readers,

It is a misapprehension amongst people of very small brain that because it is very cold in certain places at the moment, there is no such thing as climate change. Step forward Donald J. Trump, who noted that the US East Coast was experiencing the coldest Thanksgiving since, like, forever. (Donald himself was at his luxury golf resort in sunny Florida on the taxpayers’ dime, revelling in his preferred decor of gilded splendour like Louis XIV’s biggest and best wet dream. When asked what he was most grateful for this thanksgiving, he replied – for himself). ‘Whatever happened to global warming?’ he crowed. To which most people replied, ‘Whatever happened to the time when the US President had either a brain or advisers with a brain – or both?’ Trump gave us more insight into his unique blend of ignorance and fantasy when he visited the site of the devastating Camp Fire in Northern California, which has killed 79 people with hundreds more missing.  (The Kardashians apparently hired their own fire service to protect their home. Most people might find that a little expensive). According to Trump, the fires had nothing to do with the drought that has afflicted the state, leaving everything so dry that the place was a natural hazard. No, it was because the forests were not properly maintained (side note – the forests in California fall under Federal management. i.e. him. And he’s cut the budget). He had been speaking to the President of Finland the previous week, who had told him that Finland had no problem with fires because they “raked the forest floors”. Never mind that there is a slight difference between the climate of Finland and California. The former is in the Arctic Circle, where winter temperatures can fall to minus 30C and where summer temperatures rarely rise about 18C. Never mind that the President of Finland denies ever telling Trump this. Never mind that the current drought is the worst in 1200 years. Just get out your rake. Rake America Great Again. 

Global warming is only one aspect of climate change, but the Trumps, the Nigel Lawsons, the climate change deniers, seize upon every cold spell to assert that the whole thing is a left wing conspiracy designed to destroy capitalism (you can bet they see George Soros as its architect). And that is why they don’t want to believe it, why they studiously ignore the opinion of every reputable scientist, the fact that the Polar Icecap is melting, the succession of hurricanes and cyclones that have lashed the Caribbean and Southern states of America. Because it interferes with the God of Free Trade. Because it means introducing steps which cost money and cut profits, which also alienate the big businesses that give you money. It means aligning yourself with perceived liberals and how can you admit that a liberal is right about anything? So instead you deny, you mock and you talk bollocks about raking and chilly blasts whilst we face dangers far more lethal that the perceived threats from immigrants and Kim Jong Un…… 

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We start our review of the week’s fashion follies with actress Gretchen Mol wearing Batsheva.

Gretchen is really pretty but here she just looks shiny and weird, like a cross between Alice in Wonderland and the bride of Chucky.

Next up, we meet American entertainer Billy Porter wearing Rinat Brodach.

Look, WTF likes a laugh as much as the next person but this is just ridiculous. The hat is good, but not the matchy-matchy maternity top and the gossamer pink coat, as slippery as a used condom.

 To the Latin Grammys in California and singer Rosalia wearing YolanCris.

The Sugar Plum Fairy goes clubbing….

Also present at the Awards was singer Pedro Capó  wearing a most remarkable suit.

Pedro’s work is unknown to WTF but that is one hell of a suit, in essence a backgammon board with too short trousers worn with brogues and no socks – which, as regular Readers will know, WTF hates almost above all things.

To Shanghai and actress Amber Heard at some event or other, wearing Celine.

That is not so much as a tit window as a tit atrium. And WTF does not even want to think about what happens when she sits down……

Meet actor Marcus Scribner at the 100th episode party of Black-ish, wearing who can even say what?

Apparently this was worn as a homage to Prince, run up by Marcus’ mum from a pair of old curtains. Didn’t poor Prince suffer enough without having this heinous horror perpetrated in his name?

And here is actor Laurence Fisburne at the same event, wearing something scandalously bad.

Laurence was mesmerisingly sexy in his prime, but he seems to have let himself go. I mean, what is going on here? The trousers are out of some Sharjah souk and are paired, quite inexplicably, with a tallit (the Jewish prayer shawl). Is Laurence trying to bridge the gap between Judaism and Islam? Or was WTF aficionado Philippa Charles right when she asked “are those trousers on L Fishburne or did he have to do some crafty work with a tablecloth after an unfortunate spillage/splittage???“

To the Soul Train awards in Santa Monica and singer Justine Skye.

For the busy working woman. this is the perfect compromise – a couture pantsuit with built in dusters so that you just brush up against things and get your housework done as you walk. Genius!

Finally, fashionista and singer Erykah Badu wearing Rick Owens.

No, you are not seeing things. The coat is constructed from scaffolding nicked from a building site and WTF confesses to confusion about what is occurring around the nether regions where the shiny black corset, like a cockroach’s carapace, ends in a minge triangle. And then there seem to be boots and random drapes and all sorts. Meanwhile the face jewellery is the lovechild of an old fashioned telephone headset and a ball gag as seen on Marcellus in Pulp Fiction.

This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado WTF who has had enough of Cheryl‘s attempts to convince us that she can sing. Because she can’t. Not even at all. This week, she popped up on X Factor, the show on which she used to be a judge, yowling like a scalded cat, licking her hand, and generally making a show of herself, causing viewers to hide behind their own sofas with their hands over their ears.

Cheryl gave an interview in The Guardian (why??????) and said that should her latest comeback be met with negativity, she would walk away. Cheryl, those boots are made for walking. You’ve Got to Go. 

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. It has been a bit of a shit-show this week, but bear with me, normal service will be resumed next Friday. In the meantime, send in your comments and your suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x

Hallo Readers,

Remember 2016 when Michael Gove told us not to believe experts? That worked out well, didn’t it? The determination to ignore experts persists to this day, even after the ordure has hit the air conditioning and Brexit has gone from a glowing opportunity to lets-make-the-best-of-it-for-Gawd’s-sake. So just as Donald Trump has decided to ignore 300 scientists and thirteen of his own federal agencies about climate change (‘One of the problems that a lot of people like myself — we have very high levels of intelligence, but we’re not necessarily such believers’), that other towering intellect, Jacob Rees-Mogg MP, airily waved away stark predictions from the Governor of the Bank of England, Mark Carney, about the consequences of no deal on 29 March 2019. ‘Mark Carney is a second tier Canadian politician who failed to get on in Canadian politics and then got a job in the UK. I don’t think he’s greatly respected’. Unlike, presumably, Rees-Mogg, a man whose reputation has been built solely upon his plummy accent, his having been to Eton and Oxford, his three piece suits and his air of having wandered off the set of Poirot. He is a pillock masquerading as a political thinker, another posh boy who thinks he has some divine right to pontificate to the serfs.

Why little Moggy felt it necessary to denigrate Canadians, WTF cannot say, but it is another trait that Brexiteers share with Trump. Until recently, Canada was the quintessence of nice. Think of Canada and you picture maple syrup, mounties, the better side of Niagara Falls, Donald Sutherland, Richard Dreyfus, Ryan Gosling, William Shatner and Neil Young. It is true that Canada also gave us Justin Bieber and Celine Dion, but you cannot hold that against the whole nation. Suddenly, however, Canadians have gone evil. Trudeau has annoyed Trump and now Carney has incurred the wrath of the Brexiteers for pointing out that much of the UK is not ready for a no-deal Brexit, which could bring crashes and business closures and all manner of doom and gloom, whereupon there was an outcry about Project Hysteria. It is of course not possibile that Carney might be right. How can he be? He is not even British! He is a colonial who has taken a job from one of us and is now spreading fear and discord because…..er…..he’s a Globalist! He wants us to join the EUSR! He probably hob-nobs with George Soros! Meanwhile, little Moggy, who is a fund manager, has been quietly advising his clients to move their money abroad….

But fear not, fellow Brits. We might have a treat awaiting us in the form of a TV debate between Theresa May and Jeremy Corbyn about Brexit. Since they both seem to advocate Brexit, it is rather hard to know what they will talk about, and anyway they cannot presently agree upon the channel and the time. May wants to go on the BBC on Sunday 9 December (two days before the vote in the Commons on her crappy Brexit deal) but Corbyn is worried that it will clash with the final of I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here.  WTF humbly suggests that May, Corbyn, Vince Cable, Arlene Foster, and little Moggy are all flown out to Australia to appear in the final, where the one that can keep down a kangaroo’s testicle and a couple of cockroaches  gets to be Prime Minister and the Brexit outcome of their choice. And you know what Readers? It is as good a way of settling the debate as anything anyone else has come up with.

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We start the week’s survey of sartorial shockingness with Strictly presenter Claudia Winkleman wearing River Island, seen here with co-presenter Tess Daly wearing Victoria Beckham.

Claudia is the highest paid woman in the BBC at around £500K, whereas Tess, the woman who makes a bowl of lentil soup look sparky, scrapes by on £240K. Tess looks fine here but Claudia is her usual over-sprayed, messy, self with the heavy eyes of a pugilist who had taken a bad beating from Riddick Bowe, and clad in a shaggy dress reminiscent of Dougal in The Magic Roundabout.

This is actress and model Adwoa Aboah, wearing Ashley Williams. 

Tit tassels!!!! She is wearing tit tassels!!!!!

Next to the White House and Melania Trump at some ridiculous ceremony where President Trump was pardoning a turkey, presumably getting in some practice for when he has to do it to human turkeys like Don Jr. and Paul Manafort. 

Melania was clearly feeling the cold and wrapped herself in a £9K Dior coat made out of a designer horse blanket.

We are now in London at the Beauty Awards where we encounter glamour model Demi Rose, wearing a ‘blazer-dress’ by Annie’s.

Well, I say ‘wearing’, but there are some massive mammaries on display and the skirt is so short as to put worried onlookers in fear of an imminent minge moment.

To the premiere of Aquaman and two of its stars, Jason Mamoa and Amber Heard. Amber is wearing Valentino.

Note that Jason has come along in his usual day attire, whereas Amber, appearing in this blog for the second week running, is wearing an embossed gown with matching swimming cap, which is perhaps taking things a touch too literally, while the peekaboo cutouts showcase a torso with more inscriptions than the Elgin Marbles.

To one of WTFs favourite annual tackfests, the Aria Awards in Sydney. This is singer Montaigne wearing Marda Journey. In case you are wondering, she has written STOP ADANI on her cheeks in protest against proposed mining activity in Queensland.

If a giant pink poodle went to a fancy dress party as Miss Haversham, this is what it would look like. 

Next up we have socialite and model  Christian (The Prince) Wilkins wearing Akira Isogawa and his boyfriend Andrew Kelly, wearing who can possibly know what?

This isn’t a gay thing. This is a taste thing. Andrew looks like Charles II in floral bloomers with pink paint on his head, and Christian looks like a Victorian tart touting for business along the Embankment. They should both go away and rethink their looks from scratch.

Finally, here is former model and current celebritee Imogen Anthony, wearing Discount Universe.

WTF likes to think that even Madonna would have been embarrassed to wear this arse-bearing collection of rude ticker tape and string….. Just go away.

This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado Philippa Charles, who brought this item from a US yuletide gift catalogue to WTF’s attention. It is, Heaven help us, an annual subscription to the Avocado of the Month Club where your friend can receive a different seasonal avocado every month upon your outlay of $135.

Philippa remarks ‘Now look. This may be the most millennial thing I have ever seen’ and she seems to have a point. WTF likes an avocado as much as the next person but it is becoming the new pink peppercorn or the excrescence that is the sun dried tomato (which tasted like dried snot). Avocado is now everywhere, especially upon toast which is slithery and revolting. Food pretentiousness has reached new heights and It’s So Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Do not neglect to send in your splendid comments and your suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x

Hallo Readers,

This week brought a number of revelations, all of them surprising. Revelation number one. The German word for ‘shitstorm’ is ‘shitstorm’. It appears that our main contribution to the EU will be the word ‘shitstorm’. What a legacy. As Christina Rossetti almost said,

Remember me when I am gone away 

Gone far away into the silent land

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay….

Yet if You should forget me for a while, and afterwards remember….

Remember I gave you the word shitstorm.

Not of course that we are going very far away, should May’s deal go through. Revelation number two – her proposal has us stuck temporarily in the EU, part in, part out, without a say in anything but still paying through the nose for the privilege of Great Britain staying in the customs union and Northern Ireland remaining in the single market, with the border floating about somewhere in the ether, until we can negotiate a better deal and finally leave. Except that we now know that the Attorney General advised the Government that we may never be able to leave because the Transition Agreement may not allow it, even were the negotiations to fail – or never start at all. We will be in limbo, flailing about like a character in a Greek myth, trapped forever by our own hubris. Which brings us to revelation number three. A Government can be held in Contempt of Parliament. It happened this week after May refused to hand over the aforesaid legal advice in full because she said it was privileged (despite having waived the privilege by talking about it). And no wonder she did not want us to see it, as  it showed that her plan was more stark-bollock-naked than the Emperor in Hans Christian Anderson’s fairy tale. Revelation number four. When the deal is rejected in Parliament next Tuesday, as it will be, the idea of a second referendum, once reviled as the stupidest idea since David Cameron promised us a referendum to shut up the UKIP-inclined contingent in the Tory party, may not be as unlikely as everyone once thought because the alternative is even worse, to leave without a deal and be out of everything with no guarantee of anything and the likely dissolution of the Union to boot. Oh and revelation number five, hot off the press. There will be no Brexit Deal showdown between May and Corbyn on ITV or BBC as no one can agree on its timing or format. WTF’s idea to merge the debate with the final of I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here came to nothing, Like everything else about this debacle.

There are times when WTF wonders whether May has been playing a blinder, making Brexit so hopeless that everyone would say ‘oh to hell to it, let’s stay in after all’.  She probably hasn’t. But it would be lovely to think that she has been a leopard-skin-shod Trojan horse all along, making fools out of Johnson and Gove and Davies and Fox and little Moggy. Not that they needed any help….

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We start our review of the week’s clothing crapulousness with actress Mandy Moore at the Hollywood Reporter Power 100 Women in Entertainment party, wearing Gabriela Hurst.

Readers, over the years you and I have become used to a tit window, but this is an appalling new phenomenon, a tit window with curtains. and not just that, but a hearse tit window with half curtains. 

This is rapper ASAP Rocky wearing Dior Homme.

Rocky, the new face of Dior Man, is trying his best to look good in a lacy see-through shirt, silver foil trewsies and overpriced trainers. But it is a task beyond anyone, even a cool dude like him.

To the British Independent Film Awards in London where we encounter the new Dr Who, actress Jodie Whittaker, wearing Aphid London and Louboutin bootees.

If a time machine could whisk Jodie back to the moment before she put on this frillfest and hideous booties like a Regency doxy, WTF would bet a penny to a pinch of shit that she would hop right on board. 

Actor Christopher Meloni at the Netfliux premiere of Roma, wearing a load of old tat.

Christopher used to play mean, moody and manly Detective Eliot Stabler, partnering the lovely, touchy-feely, Detective Olivia Benson on Law & Order – Special Victims’ Unit. Then he stomped out in a huff because of a dispute over money and since then he has been largely anonymous, occasionally pitching up wearing shocking outfits like this one. No one should wear a back-to-front baseball cap, and particularly not a man in his late 50s, because it makes everyone look like a prat.

To Melbourne where we meet the designer duo behind the Australian label Romance Was Born, Luke Sales and Anna Plunkett.

He looks like Luciano Pavarotti singing Rudolfo in La Bohème. Anna resembles the Australian galah bird in fuchsia bootees.

And now a couple of total shockers from the Versace Front Row in New York. First actress Tracee Ellis Ross.

The dress is a gorgeous colour but the tits are more adrift than a couple of castaways and for reasons which are far from clear, she has curtain ties hanging from the hem and ears. Yurgle.

And here we have actor Norman Reedus and his beloved, actress Diane Kruger.

Diane used to go out with lovely Joshua Jackson, but then switched her attention to Norman, who looks like a cut price Sean Bean with bad hair. He is in the sort of a foul checked suit worn by a bookie’s runner. WTF does not even know what Diane is supposed to be wearing but, like Tracee, it is not doing the job in the tits department, or indeed, in any department, not even at all.

Finally, brace yourselves, because here is über-ghastly health guru Gillian McKeith. One hopes that she is not making another bid for the coveted WTF Christmas Turkey this year because it is going to be an all-male affair…..

Gillian sprang to fame on TV examining people’s poo. Now she has taken to wearing it. 

This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado Sue from London, who has taken against Melania Trump’s Christmas decorations for the White House featuring these blood-red trees.

There is festive, there is folly and there is Hammer House of Horror. This is not so much Christmas as Nightmare on Pennsylvania Avenue. The present incumbents of number 1600 are quite frightening enough with adding this bloodbath into the mix. One expects Freddy Kruger to pop out from behind the foliage at any minute. It’s Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Do not neglect to send your splendid comments and your suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x

Hallo Readers,

It is almost Christmas and so WTF thought she would end the year with a fairytale for you. Next week will bring you the fabled WTF Christmas Turkey 2018, and then there will be a break until 11 January 2019 while WTF suns herself on the other side of the world and drinks a lot of Riesling and Pinot Noir.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.

Once upon a time, a girl called Theresa lived in a big, tall house in the middle of a city. Theresa was the city’s leader and was obliged to do the people’s bidding. And the people had asked for two pink flying elephants circling above the main square singing ‘Happy’. Now Theresa knew that this request was impossible, but she was a dutiful girl and she tried her hardest to make this happen. She travelled to the Land of the Elephants and had many meeting with Herr Tusk, the Chief Elephant Master, but, as she knew she would, she failed. And so she was obliged to return to the city and tell the people that there were no pink flying elephants, not even of any kind, but that she was holding an option on two grey elephants, who could neither fly nor sing. All they could do was to walk round and round making loud trumpeting sounds and blowing watery snot at onlookers. Oh – and there was a lengthy minimum hire period for the elephants, and a possibility that the lease could go on for years.

The people were furious. The ones who had wanted pink, flying, elephants singing ‘Happy’ refused to accept grey, perambulating, elephants who could not sing and who blew watery snot at them. Those who had always thought that it was cruel to put elephants on show at all were also scornful. Everyone demanded that Theresa return to Herr Tusk to get a better deal, and, if she couldn’t, then she should step down and let the evil pygmies, Mophead and Moggy, carry out the negotiations instead. Mophead and Moggy had promised the people that they would get tough with Herr Tusk and would demand pink, flying, elephants that not only sang ‘Happy’ but also ‘Three Lions on the Shirt’. And if Herr Tusk still failed to oblige, they would buy elephants from somewhere else, spray them pink and fly them around the square on wires, and to hell with the health and safety regulations, which were probably imposed by Herr Tusk in the first place.

The people were not given a vote on whether to go with Theresa or with Mophead and Moggy. Instead, the burghers of the city  had a secret vote and chose Theresa, sending Mophead and Moggy and their pygmy followers scampering back into the shadows. Theresa had won! She was so happy. Except that she now had to go back to Herr Tusk and ask him for pastel-coloured, flying, elephants that sang  ‘Happy’  or at least ask whether she could take the grey, non-singing, elephants on approval. But Herr Tusk held firm. It was the grey, non-singing, elephants on a long lease or nothing at all.

And the thing is, boys and girls, there was no magic wand to turn grey into pink, or perambulating into flying, or watery snot-blowing into singing. There would be no happy ending for Theresa, Mophead, Moggy, the pygmies, or the people. Because there is no such thing as a pink, flying, elephant. An elephant cannot sing Happy. And the moral of the story is not to ask for things you cannot get………

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We start our review of the week’s fashion flatulence at the British Fashion Awards in London and singer Olly Murs, wearing River Island Man.

WTF went off wearing brown after the 1970’s, when she had a very fetching brown Afghan coat with orange embroidery, and a pair of brown platform boots which could only be closed by lying on the bed with one’s leg up at a right angle and a metal coat hook pulling at the zip. Olly’s brown suit makes him look like a draylon teddy bear with black facings and slip-on sneakers.

Next up, we have model and actress Suki Waterhouse, wearing Mulberry.

One can only conclude that Suki spilt something on her skirt or trousers. There is short. And there is a scalloped snatch-sighting. And this is in danger of becoming the latter any moment.

This is model Doutzen Kroes, wearing David Koma.

If a woman with bad liver spots went hula hooping, this is what she would look like.

Finally from this event, we have actress Kristen Scott-Thomas, wearing Valentino.

There is enough fabric here for a small marquee and she appears to have lost an arm in some dreadful accident.

We now move to Los Angeles and the premiere of the movie Aquaman, starring actress Amber Heard, who is becoming something of a fixture in this blog, wearing Minge Maestro, Julien Macdonald.

If there is a body part to be flashed, Julien is your man and this is very typical of his oeuvre. He has dressed Amber as a scaly sea-creature with a minge panel and no feet.

Next we go to an event for designers Herring & Herring, where we encounter actress Olivia Munn,wearing Yanina Couture.

Olivia is wearing a sheer dress patterned with little Regency-period ladies and gentlemen, including one gentleman who appears to be hovering unnervingly close to her lady parts. One should not be expected to put up with scenes of gross indecency on someone’s skirt. WTF has spoken.

This is actress and singer Tessa Thompson wearing Marc Jacobs.

Tessa’s outfit is the lovechild of Aladdin and one of the Duchess of Cornwall’s wedding hats, and she also has a turd on her head.

We haven’t seen actor Jared Leto for a while, but we always knew that he would return – and he has.

Jared is giving us a mashup of Game of Thrones and American Pie, and it is to be deplored.

We are now in London at the Capital FM Jungle bell Ball where we meet singer Marina Diamandis, wearing who can even say what this is?

Wearing a croptop shorts suit decorated with scrunched-up doilies over a pair of net curtains fashioned into trousers is a new one to WTF, and it is an experience that she could happily have lived without, and hopes fervently to be able to do so in the future.

Also there was singer Ellie Goulding, wearing something extremely bad.

WTF is sorry to see Ellie in white incontinence pants and matching bralet over a white shroud, which is not so much ethereal as excruciating.

And last, bringing up the rear, literally, at the Women in Music festival, we have singer Janelle Monáe wearing a deeply preposterous ensemble by Gareth Pugh.

Cowboys wear chaps, yes, but over jeans. They do not have their crotches on display, and with good reason, because when the wind comes whistling through Wyoming, you do not want your nether regions exposed to the elements. These are pinstriped nappy-chaps, and they are manifestly not up to the job. 

The problem with pinstriped nappy-chaps is they do not cover your arse. It might do for Brokeback Mountain but they are ill-advised for ordinary wear. And the length of the trousers is a health hazard.

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OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. We had a bumper fashion fiasco section this week and so It’s Got To Go became It’s Had To Go. But keep sending in your comments and your splendid suggestions for future editions of It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x

Hallo Readers

Yes, it is that time of the year again. I mean, the time to vote for the WTF Christmas Turkey 2018 (it went quickly, didn’t it?). This year, after six years of men and women vying for the much-coveted prize, this is an all-male line-up, such is the shockingness of their apparel this year. Men’s fashion has gone totally batshit crazy. Their trousers are not on speaking terms with their ankles. Their jackets are not covering their bums. Their jackets are sometimes worn without shirts or teeshirts, not even of any kind. Their brogues are sans socks. Here are twenty examples of male madness for you to choose from. Remember that you can vote for as many people as you like, and as often as you like – none of that single transferable vote stuff here, just good old fashion ticks in the appropriate box or boxes. The guys here appear in first name alphabetical order which absolutely denotes no preference on WTF’s part.

It remains to wish you all a very Happy Christmas, a Happy New Year, and Happy Holidays generally. WTF will be back, tanned and rested, on 11 January 2019.

So – to business. Here is your selection of twenty fashion faux-pas. Off you go!

1.  ASAP Rocky, rapper.

Rocky is usually very dapper, and is the face of Dior Homme. But here he is in Gucci, looking like a cross between HRH Princess Margaret and Noël Coward. Extra minus points for the ridiculous fur-lined slippers.

2. Billy Porter, entertainer.

Several months have passed since Billy appeared in the weekly blog, a prat in a hat, but WTF’s opinion has not changed. Billy is wearing a used condom as a coat. And strangely, that is not even the worst part of it, because that top is truly unforgivable.

3. David Potts, celebritee.

The suit is heinous, and he needs to take several sizes up and lose the tie. Or keep the tie and lose the suit. Or, preferably, both. The same goes for the pose which makes him look like a little boy at his first ballet class.

4. Gareth Gates, singer, (seen here with fiancée Faye Brookes).

Is crushed velvet a thing again? And even if it is, this is the colour of a sick person’s poo, and is a perfect example of a too-short jacket and too-short trousers, and is also very tight over the unmentionables.

5. Harry Styles, singer.

Like crushed velvet, flares seem to be back, but these trousers are not so much flares as a couple of inverted Laura Ashley lampshades.

6. Jalen Mills, American footballer.

Just because he has a tattooed chest does not mean that it can be worn in substitution for a shirt. The watch and the neck chain must weigh about the same as a whole room in Fort Knox, and there is no excuse for having a frog perched on your head.

7. Jared Leto, actor.

Ah Jared! Bless him! As WTF remarked at the time, this is Game of Thrones meets American Pie.

8. JaVale McGee, basketball player.

WTF cannot improve on the tweet from a JaVale fan at the time, observing, ‘I get that it’s Gucci or whatever, but do you really gotta put that shit on your waist ‘n all, u could’ve just left it in the car or some shit. That’s why they got Pockets for that stuff.’  Indeed.

9. Jonathan van Ness, TV fashion guru.

It isn’t that he is wearing a skirt. It is actually rather a nice skirt. It is the sheer top, the visible shorts, and the Angelina Jolie Oscars pose. Yurgle.

10. Julian Schnabel, artist and film director.

Yes, he is a famous artist and film director, but facts are facts, and it is a fact that he is wearing his pyjamas on the Cannes Red Carpet. He may have a blazer over it with toning buttons, but they are still pyjamas. End of.

11. Kanye West, rapper, seen with wife Kim Kardashian.

It takes a lot of effort to look worse than Kim, but Kanye manages it effortlessly.  The suit may be Vuitton, but he seems to have slept in it, there is chest instead of shirt, and he is wearing slides from his label Yeezy WITH GREY SOCKS.

12. Laurence Fishburne, actor.

WTF aficionado  Philippa Charles asked “are those trousers on L Fishburne or did he have to do some crafty work with a tablecloth after an unfortunate spillage/splittage???“ And frankly, there can be no other explanation.

13. Lewis Hamilton, racing driver.

Lewis specialises in looking like a pillock, and this is pillock plus. Having dissed his little nephew for wearing a skirt, and being covered in obloquy as a result, (including bolting out of nowhere to win last year’s WTF Christmas Turkey), Lewis thought he would make amends by appearing in this Tommy Hilfiger-designed kilt. The question is, what is he going to wear next year to make amends to the Scots for this year?

14. Nick Cannon, singer and TV talent-show judge.

On the plus side, it is very colourful. On the minus side, it is seriously terrible, and that includes the headscarf and sunglasses.

15. Nico Tortorella, actor.

Since when did fashion consist of a string vest, pyjama bottoms, a kimono with writing on it, and a hat last seen on Michael Crawford in Some Mothers Do ‘Ave Them? Oooooh, Betty.

16. Patrick Starr, makeup artist.

If a giant orange Gerbera Daisy went to a fancy dress party as Carmen Miranda, this is what it would look like.

17.  Pedro Capó  singer.

This suit, like a cloth backgammon board, is capable of causing severe retinal damage and constitutes a veritable health hazard. And he isn’t wearing socks.

18. Robert Pattinson, actor.

It is all going so well until the kneecaps and then it all goes horribly wrong, an overgrown schoolboy with skinny little legs and a farouche expression.

19. Thom Yorke, singer.

The suit is like the dark blue section of the Dulux colour chart and is made much, much, worse by those slides. Gentlemen – please remember that if you show your toes, you need to get a pedicure first. Thank you.

20. Tommy Dorfman, actor.

This is designed by Thom Browne, the man who gave us the shorts suit. Ironically, this is the time when a pair of shorts would have been very welcome, as the whole thing is very Britney Spears singing ‘Whoops, I Did It Again’.

OK readers, get voting!!!! See you on 11 January. Love and kisses to you all.

Happy New Year, Readers,
 
But is it?
 
In any sane country, Chris Grayling, Secretary of State, would long since have been consigned to a home for the terminally useless, where he would present even the most skilled physicians with their greatest challenge to date. This King Midas is not so much in reverse as hurtling backwards over a cliff at full speed, showering citizens with ordure as he crashes down to earth. But this is not a sane country, far from it, and so Grayling is in charge of Transport, and in particular, transport in the event of a no-deal Brexshit. Brexshit is already a mess. Add Grayling to the mix, making the mess messier, and you have the perfect storm. Continuing his practice of making a cock-up of everything he touches, he has awarded a £14m contract to run cross-Channel ferries to Seaborne Ferries, a company with no ferries, which has never traded and some of whose directors have a colourful business history. The theory is that we will need extra freight arrangements in order to ease the backlog once we are out of the Customs Union, at which point the the M20 will become a parking lot, Danish insulin will be held up at Calais for days and Dutch tulips will wilt in a 50km queue at Ostend. Even the rehearsal for this scenario was an unmitigated disaster, with £60,000 gurgling down the plughole on an exercise where an insufficient number of trucks volunteered, even at £550 a time, to cause a traffic jam. Matters took a yet more comical turn when the company’s standard terms and conditions turned out to be copied from a home food delivery business, prompting much merriment and cries of “Mine’s a pepperoni pizza with extra mozzarella”. Grayling is, as ever, unrepentant, safe in the knowledge that May cannot sack him as she is a bit short of candidates. Once upon a time, Ministers resigned when they screwed up. Now they  hand out millions to a company where one director’s previous company sank without trace, owing a fortune to Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs, and another director was once banged up for unlawful possession of a shotgun, and then they pop up on TV and radio, boasting of their pride in supporting a “start-up business”. With our money.
 
Meanwhile, shaven-headed yobs with the IQ of a root vegetable are bravely protecting our democracy by harassing and intimidating Remain MPs, most notably Anna Soubry, calling them Nazis and Fascists, and issuing threats against police officers, declaring them to be “fair game”. One hero was caught on camera telling a black copper “and you’re not even fucking British, Mate”. Perish the thought that these protesters could ever be described as “racists”. They just want the Will Of The People to prevail, even though many of The People did not understand the consequences of what they were voting for, and were spoon-fed lies by the ladleful. But the People Have Spoken and so here we are, less than three months from B Day, adrift on a friendless sea, our Grayling-commissioned vessel fatally holed below the waterline, and the crew frantically steering it onto the rocks while we bail out the water with jam jars. There are life boats, or the options of changing course or delaying the journey, but Admiral May is determined not to use any of them. As Dido sang, “I will go down with this ship”….

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Our first dip of 2019 into the week’s clothing cloaca is at the Golden Globes in Hollywood, the first of the annual Awards for thespian types. We begin with musician and singer Joanna Newsom, wife of presenter Andy Samberg, wearing Rodarte.

Wearing your heart on your sleeve is one thing. Wearing your heart on your tits is quite another, especially when it is not anatomically accurate and it is also transparent, showcasing visible nipple activity (VNA).

Next up, we have actor Billy Porter, wearing Randi Rahm.

Billy is like a verdant meadow in velvet pumps and white socks. But WTF does admire the shocking pink silk lining, like the dress Marilyn Monroe wore in “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend”.

Next up, we have Killing Eve actress Jodie Comer, wearing Ralph & Russo.

For some reason, Jodie has come dressed as David Copperfield’s aunt, Miss Betsey Trotwood.

Next up, we have actress Indya Moore, wearing Louis Vuitton.

Indya is modelling the newest prototype for Donald Trump’s Big Beautiful Wall. This one really fits the bill, as it is see-through and is apparently made of steel. Sadly, recent tests have demonstrated that you can cut right through Trumpy’s wall. One can but pray that Indya has come prepared….

This is young actor Timothée Chalamet, wearing also Louis Vuitton.

Timothée is a dedicated follower of fashion, and so he has permitted Vuitton to dress him in a sparkling kiddie harness and some very snug-fitting trewsies.

Actress Julianne Moore wearing Givenchy.

Oh Julianne! White is so not your colour, but even worse, you look as if you are in a neck sling. And considering that the outfit is custom made, it doesn’t fit.  

Here is actor Bradley Cooper wearing Gucci with partner, model Irina Shayk, wearing Versace. Irina looks lovely. Bradley does not.

Bradley is wearing a truly terrible suit, like a louche steward on a cruise liner, with elephant vagina crotch and a comedy bow tie.

Actress Kate Beckinsale popped into one of the after parties, wearing Aardnevik.

This appears to be an elongated white Christmas tree that has fallen into the hands of a crazed topiarist, complete with minge fringe.

This is actress Debra Messing wearing Pamela Roland.

At first, WTF thought that a bear had escaped from one of the National Parks, what with the rangers being furloughed for the duration of the US Government shutdown, but then she realised that it was just Debra in a ludicrous frock.

This is Australian actor Cody Fern,wearing head-to-toe Maison Martin Margiela.

Er…OK. It is different, certainly, and very well made, but it is also on the far end of the WEIRD spectrum, with a double helping of extra weird. Margiela’s unforgivable devil’s hoof Tabi boots have previously featured in It’s Got To Go, and rightly so because to call them dog ugly would be a gross insult to canines.

And finally, we have actress Anne Hathaway wearing Elie Saab.

A Boudicca metal breastplate (what happens if the sun shines directly on it, your tits must cook like a couple of chicken fillets) and a skirt for which several animals seem to have died in vain. Why has the World Wildlife Fund not protested? It’s hideous.

And for those who missed the announcement, the winner of the WTF Christmas Turkey 2019 was….drumroll……ASAP ROCKY!!

WTF described this as at the time as Princess Margaret meets Noël Coward and many of you agreed. He was clearly in the lead from the off and stayed there with around 14% of the vote.

This weeks It’s Got To Go is from Claire from Boston, Mass. who has taken great issue with the use of nouns as verbs, particularly the word “gifting”, which she maintains does not exist, not even at all. Recently even The Daily Telegraph used the word in respect of our own Glorious Majesty, who “​gifted” tiaras to Kate Middleton and Meghan Markle. The Daily Telegraph!! Is this the end of civilisation as we know it?  Because it certainly seems like it. It’s Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Do not neglect to send your splendid comments and your suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x

Hallo Readers,

This week Parliament finally got to vote on Mrs Maybe’s Brexshit deal. To the surprise of absolutely no one, Parliament rejected it. To the surprise of quite a few, it did not just reject it, it jumped up and down on it, kicked it in the goolies, cocked its collective leg over it and then dumped the putrid, mutilated, corpse into a skip. The losing margin of 230 was the largest Parliamentary defeat ever in the history of ever. But on a Vote of Confidence in the self-same Government that had just had its deal rejected, all the Tory MPs who had voted against it, including all the MPs who had voted against the Prime Minister only a few weeks ago, and the DUP, which had been screaming bloody murder all week, trooped merrily through the lobbies to support the woman whose bill they had so comprehensively trashed twenty-four hours earlier. Why? Because half of them did not want an election where the Will of the People could be tested, even though the Will of the People was what they were supposedly fighting for. And the other half of them did not want an election where the Will of the People could be tested, even though the Will of the People was what they were supposedly fighting against, because they want a second referendum instead, or simply just to scrap the whole thing. Meanwhile the Opposition, which did want to test the Will of the People, was actually offering the same option, i.e. Brexshit, as the Government it was seeking to topple, even though this is not party policy. Now the UK has 70 days to come up with something, anything, before the trapdoor opens, and Parliament will not vote for a No-Deal departure either. Instead, Mrs Maybe, who has repeatedly insisted upon upholding the Will of the People and delivering Brexshit, will probably have to postpone our departure currently scheduled for 29 March, or call the whole thing off. Or come up with a better deal, which she can’t. Not to mention that she kept telling us that no other deal could be obtained.

Here’s the thing, Readers. Everyone is making a terrible fool of themselves, and we have become an international laughing stock. What is the point of it? This is not so much flogging a dead horse as attempting to ride it in the Grand National – it is a non starter. It is disqualified before it even gets to the starting gate, let alone the finishing line. Everyone knows it isn’t going to be happen. So why are we investing all this time and effort and expense in stabling it, grooming it, feeding it and advertising its next race? Why aren’t we taking it to the knackers’ yard and at least getting a few quid for the corpse?

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This week, our review of the week’s sartorial slurry comes from the Critics Choice Awards where a variety of horror awaited our appalled gaze. We begin with Roseanne actress and producer Sara Gilbert and her wife, singer Linda Perry.

Sara has forgotten to brush her hair but otherwise passes muster but sadly the same cannot be said of her spouse, whose outfit can best be described as Sir Francis Bacon in platform boots and a flasher mac. And what’s with the mouth, like a giant cold sore?

Director and comedian Bo Burnham wearing Thom Browne.

Bo seems to have been sliced in half and put into two different suits and socks before re-assembly; the only things the two halves have in common are that the jackets are too short and the trousers have had a catastrophic fall out with Bo’s ankles.

Actress Lucy Boynton wearing Gucci.

This is just a bad nightie with very frilly tittage. 

Lucy should have got together with his director, Boots Riley, and his lady friend.

She is dressed as an extra from Oklahoma! Boots (né Raymond) is wearing a dressing gown. For some reason, he took great exception to newspapers pointing out that he was wearing a dressing gown. WTF can clear this matter up. Newspapers pointed this out because Boots was wearing a dressing gown. He might as well have complained that they said he was wearing glasses.

Actress Dina Shihabi, wearing Sandra Mansour.

This dress is like a (rightly) discarded costume for a budget pantomime production of Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves. The whole thing is just terribly, terribly, terrible, but that glowing green inter-galatic thing around her hips looks positively radio-active.

Actor Stephan James wearing Thom Browne.

Thom Browne does it again. Stephan must have spent the night with people asking him to bring them another Chablis or more cashews. And why is he wearing combat boots?

Actress Judith Light wearing Christian Siriano.

Cruella de Vil lives.

He’s back again, and WTF suspects we will be seeing him right through Awards season. Here is Cody Fern wearing vintage Yohji Yamamoto and foul Maison Martin Margiela Tabi boots.

Seeing as the suit is vintage, WTF did wonder whether the moths had got at it, but has since concluded that it was indeed designed like that so as to allow emergency access to the wearer’s pancreas. As for the Tabi Boots, WTF is sick of seeing them.

TV host Carrie Keagan wearing Victor Lopez.

Which is the more offensive? Is it the Minge Moment, or those tassels dangling from her shoulders like the entrance to a Kuala Lumpur knocking shop?

Finally, actor Billy Porter wearing Rinat Brodach.

Sartorially speaking, Billy is the gift that keeps on giving and here he has gift-wrapped himself in brown silk more wrinkled that a Shar Pei’s bum and a bow big enough to encase the Statue of Liberty.

This week’s It’s Got To Go is from WTF aficionado and stalwart Leslie from Lisson Grove, who has taken great issue with this male legwear and with very good reason. Are you ready? You won’t be….meet the concept of Mantyhose manufactured by e-MANcipate. I mean, the names themselves merit a slap before you even get to the horror of the picture.

Why would anyone, male or female, want to wear something that makes them appear to have ulcerative colitis?. It’s Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Do not neglect to send your splendid comments and your suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x

Hallo Readers,

Normally employment works like this. The employee does stuff at the employer’s request. Then at whatever period is stipulated in the contract, the employer pays the employee for the stuff he or she has done. But in America, if the Government shuts down because Congress has not passed a budget, Government employees still have to come to work if told to do so, or they may be ‘furloughed’, which means they stay at home until instructed otherwise. But either way, they do not get paid. Nothing. Nada. Zero. When the Government re-opens, they get their pay backdated, (although contractors do not), but in the meantime, they have to draw on their savings. Unless, of course, they have no savings, in which case, they must make interesting choices, such as do they feed their kids or pay the mortgage? Do they put fuel in the car to get to work or pay for the heating bill? Friday 25 January will be Day 35 of the shutdown and people are getting desperate. And furious.

This is happening because President Donald Trump wants his wall.  The one Mexico was going to pay for. That wall. Only Mexico is not going to pay for the Wall, and was never going to pay for the Wall, which means either that there is no Wall or Americans have to pay for it with public money approved by the House and the Senate and signed off by the President. And neither Chamber will give Trump $5.7 billion to pay for the Wall. Trump is refusing to sign off on the original budget, which made no provision for any Wall but gave him $1.3 billion for border security – having said he would sign it, he reneged after right-wing nutters got antsy, and so 800,000 people are currently without pay.

Not that they are getting much sympathy from Trump acolytes. Secretary of Commerce Wilbur Ross, an 81-year-old multi-millionaire who looks like he died in the night, expressed surprise that people had to go to food banks, and anyway, he said, 800,000 employees’ pay was only a third of 1% of GDP. Trump’s daughter-in-law, Lara Trump, said, ‘Listen, it’s not fair to you, and we all get this, but this is so much bigger than any one person. It’s a little bit of pain, but it’s going to be for the future of our country.” No, love. It’s a little bit of pain when you wake up in the morning and realise you married Eric Trump, the son with a face like a boiled potato and a brain to match. It is a much bigger pain when you worry whether that you can keep a roof over your head.

And so it drags on. Trump pretends there is a ‘humanitarian crisis’ at the Southern Border, talks about ‘invasions’ (although crossings there are at a twenty year low), claims Democrats favour open borders, drug smuggling and uncontrolled crime and maintains that many unpaid workers are firmly behind him. This is what is known as bullshit. Sadly for him, the new Speaker of the House, mother-of-five Nancy Pelosi, is well used to dealing with toddlers’ tantrums, and is more than happy to get into a septuagenarian scrap. This week, she postponed his State of the Union address and Trump has now backtracked on $5.7 billion immediately and is offering to re-open the Government for three weeks in exchange for a ‘pro-rated down-payment’ on the Wall. On Tuesday, he whimpered that Pelosi ditched his State of the Union because she ‘didn’t want to hear the truth’. On the contrary, Mr President. As Jack Nicholson’s Colonel Jessup said, ‘You can’t handle the truth!’ During the campaign, you told a massive lie you cannot make good on, people are now getting hurt, and 70% of your fellow Americans disapprove of the way you are handling this fiasco. Madam Speaker has your little orange balls in a vice and she intends to keep on squeezing until you stop this nonsense and act like a grown-up. 

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We begin’s the week’s sartorial survey with actress Naomi Watts, wearing Nina Ricci.

The colour of this dress makes her look like a melted puddle of strawberry ice-cream. Furthermore, although criticism is alien to WTF’s nature, she feels compelled to remark that the seams are as puckered as Donald Trump’s horrible little mouth.

Next up, we have WTF regular, singer Rita Ora, wearing Dion Lee.

This is the Full Monty with peek-a-boo tits like a Klu Klux Klansman’s hood, mis-matched shades of white, and a skirt made out of that stuff greengrocers put over fruit to stop it bruising, with more than a flash of arse cheek. 

To Newcastle, where we find the “star” of Geordie Shore, Chloe Ferry, wearing Oh Polly, seen here with her boyfriend Sam.

This is not so much under-boob as thunder-boob, and it gets much, much worse, namely the dreaded nip slip. This is what happens when you venture out with your top half wrapped only in a tiny fuchsia bandage.

As for Chloe’s face, there has been major interference with the workings of nature, including a trout pout like something out of Finding Nemo. Here is what she looked like in 2014 before she became a celebritee….

To London, and actress Michelle Keegan at the National TV Awards wearing Dafna May.

One day Dafna may design a dress that doesn’t make the wearer look like a creosoted Sugar Plum Fairy. 

Here is actress Bella Thorne, née Annabella Thorne, and her boyfriend, singer Mod Sun, né Derek Smith.

Bella is showing an awful lot of chest and could well catch a chill. If it is cold enough to wear a coat, it is too cold to flash your embonpoint. As for her beau, he is also showing far more chest than anyone wants to see, including more artwork than Michelangelo’s sketchbook, and he has substituted what look like wind-chimes for a shirt. And as WTF aficionado Belinda rightly observed, no one should be allowed out in public with a mouth open that wide.

Here is rapper Cardi B, wearing Dolce & Gabbana. 

It is best to leave it to Cardi B to explain what is occurring. ‘… these pants is too mother–king tight. S–t was giving my p—y a wedgie. I hate having p—y wedgies, bro. My p—y be screaming at me like, ‘Bitch! You got me f–ked up! You want a yeast infection, bitch? You want a f–king yeast infection?'” WTF would advise either taking a size up or, better still, leaving this foul outfit on the hanger,

Finally, here we are at Paris Menswear Week where we encounter actor Robert Pattinson wearing Dior Homme.

At first WTF assumed that aficionado Kathryn had sent her a picture of a tramp on the Champs Elysées, but she then realised that it was Robert in designer togs, unkempt hair and a pallor last seen on someone exhumed by order of the Coroner. Why Dior Homme has found inspiration in Bill Sykes from Oliver!, WTF cannot say….

This week’s It’s Got To Go is from WTF aficionado Sue Peters who was rightly horrified that magazine Marie-Claire had advised women to kick-start their period by inserting parsley into their vaginas. Health professionals reacted with sorrel, with one gynaecologist remarking ‘there are only a few things that should go into your vagina and parsley is not one of them’. This is sage advice that women should fennel if they want to stay in mint condition.

Clearly Marie-Claire got caraway with this nonsense, and the article has since been withdrawn. Why would any female want to turn their lady garden into a herb garden? It’s Got To Go.

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

Hallo Readers,

Last Friday, WTF wrote about the US Government Shutdown, initiated by President Trump because he couldn’t get it up. The Wall at the Southern Border, that is. Trump spent 35 days vowing he would not cave without Congressional funding for the Wall and then at 7 pm on Friday, he caved and agreed to re-open for three weeks pending negotiations. WTF was put in mind of Byron’s Don Juan describing the eponymous hero’s seduction of Donna Julia. ‘A little still she strove and much repented, and whispering ‘I will ne’er consent…consented’.

Nobody understands what Trump is doing, but according to Sarah Sanders, his Press Secretary, God intended Donald Trump to be President.  She said ‘I think God calls all of us to fill different roles at different times and I think that He wanted Donald Trump to become president. ..That’s why he’s there and I think he has done a tremendous job in supporting a lot of the things that people of faith really care about.’ And because St Donald the Pure has appointed pro-Life judges and attacked birth control organisations, people of faith (Christians) are willing to overlook  his faults. But what’s in it for God? 

We know the Lord is forgiving, but He seems to be content for Trump to flout his Handbook altogether. Trump is an adulterer, (Hebrews 13:4 ‘Marriage is to be held in honor among all, and the marriage bed is to be undefiled.’.) Adultery goes with lust ( Galatians 5: 16 ‘..you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.’) He claims to weigh 236 lbs (but that’s just his head), although he is obese, existing on a dirt of congealed fats (Ezekiel 16:49 – ‘Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy’). He hates spending his own money (Hebrews 13.3 “Let your conduct be without covetousness; be content with such things as you have’). He spends hours watching TV rather than working (Proverbs 6:6 “Go to the ant, you sluggard! Consider her ways and be wise.”). He constantly loses his temper and hits back at people (Romans 12:19 “Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God.’).  He envies others (genuinely) richer than him (Proverbs 14:30, ‘..envy is rottenness to the bones.’). He believes that he is smarter than everyone (Jeremiah 9:23-24, “…Let not the mighty man boast of his might…but let him who boasts boast of this, that he understands and knows Me…”) And of course, he is a compulsive liar (Proverbs 21:22 ‘The LORD detests lying lips, but he delights in people who are trustworthy’.)

If the Good Lord did decide that Donald was His man, He must have either have a very warped sense of humour or He was feeling particularly pissed off with humanity. To be frank, WTF would rather He had rained down a few plagues, even the frogs and the locust, rather than visit Trumpy upon us, but, as we are regularly reminded, the Good Lord moves in mysterious ways. And none more mysterious than this…..

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We start our review of the week’s sartorial cesspit at the Screen Actor’s Guild Awards (the SAGs) in Hollywood and actor Michael B. Jordan, wearing Louis Vuitton.

The suit fits him like a glove, but the leather floral kiddie-harness is preposterous. Timothee Chalamet wore a black sparkly one, and now this. Should you wish to reproduce this at home, remove the straps from a floral backpack, discard the backpack, wear the straps across your chest and save yourself a fortune. But you will still look like a prat.

WTF has never seen GLOW,  a show about lady wrestlers, but its quartet of its leading ladies wore some dreadful clothes on the Red Carpet.  First up, we have Kate Nash, wearing Manish Arora.

Mary Poppins does bondage. 

Second is Alison Brie, wearing Miu Miu.

WTF is wrestling with this for a number of reasons. Alison looks like the lovechild of a cockroach and the Angel of Death, while those wings take up lots of room. Unless Alison was sitting in aisle seat, two people had to spend the whole ceremony getting poked in the eye every time she moved. Stand by for legal action….

Third, we have Kimmy Gatewood wearing Nathaniel Paul.

Nathaniel is taking the piss. A bodice goes under a blouse, not over it. And save for the flashes of white and the red lippy, Kimmy’s hair, face and dress are all the same colour, making her resemble a perambulating peach.

And finally, we have Marianna Palka wearing Madame Adassa, this time at an After Party.

Sadly, Marianna is putting the sag into SAG and has substituted a flowery minge mask for a pair of panties. These felonies are compounded by pink bedroom mules, blue-bandaged arms, and an orange spray tan of which Donald Trump would be proud.

Casey Thomas Brown from The Kominsky Method.

This Harry Potter-inspired getup looks like it came straight from the school drama cupboard, but WTF’s chief disapprobation is reserved for the wonky bow tie, something she hates almost above all things, and what appear to be a pair of walking boots.

The lovely Lupita Nyong’o, wearing Vera Wang.

Lupita! What on earth did you say to your stylist to piss him or her off? This is essentially a corset with coat-sleeves and some leftover Christmas lights worn as a skirt. You had better apologise PDQ or Heaven knows what he or she she will pick out for your Oscar outfit.

Angela Bassett wearing Georges Chakra.

Angela has come dressed as a titsy tea cosy.

Anthony Ramos wearing David Hart.

This is a truly terrible suit, like those luminous planets you put on kiddies’ bedroom ceilings which glow in the dark. WTF’s adored great nephew has some, but he is two. The aforesaid suit also has enormous lapels and too short trousers, and poor Anthony is also wearing brown shoes and the world’s biggest bow tie, like a pair of foxes’ ears worn as a hunting trophy.

Away from the SGAs, we have Bollywood star Ranveer Singh wearing something quite mind boggling.

Ranveer is a very cool dude but no one, not even him, can carry off head to ankle leopardskin and golden bootees.

And finally, we find ourselves at Paris Fashion Week where we encounter singer Celine Dion, wearing Alexandre Vauthier.

Donald Trump could take those shoulders and use them for his Wall, or barrier, or whatever he wants to call it this week, but the real horror is the sheer tit bandage displaying a great deal of distressingly bony chest.

This week’s It’s Got To Go is from WTF of Islington who has got the dead raving needle about lack of gym etiquette, to be summarised as follows.

* Tossers sitting at machines, not huffing and puffing as per the supposed programme, but reading or sending emails and texts.

*Tossers speaking loudly on the phone whilst exercising, especially on a bluetooth or, even worse, with the loudspeaker on.

*Tossers with headphones singing along loudly but tunelessly in unexpected and unnerving bursts, like Ozzie Osbourne with croup.

*Tossers emitting loud grunting noises like a hippo giving birth, just to show everyone else how hard they are working.

*Tossers in the pool doing backstroke at 1 mph and causing a mini tsunami.

It’s Got To Go.

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

Hallo Readers, 

Of all the things that enrage WTF about Brexit, which is pretty much everything, is the new era of do-it-yourselfery, where anyone with barely two brain cells to rub together can pontificate without bothering to learn more about the issues than listening to Nigel Farage on LBC and perusing @ravingmad on Twitter. Everybody now has an opinion. The problem is that an opinion which is not based on fact is not an opinion at all, it is simply verbal flatulence.

Be that howsoever it may be, you would expect rather better of a Government Minister. A Minister should be on top of his brief. In particular, the Minister dealing with Brexit should have some understanding of the issues. And one of the biggest issues around Brexit is the Irish Border. Before peace broke out in long-suffering Northern Ireland, the border was manned by armed British soldiers. Then came the Good Friday Agreement in April 1998. One of the main features of that agreement was a normalising of relations between North and South, with the consequence that citizens of both countries could cross the border freely without having a revved-up squaddie pointing a machine gun at them. And for twenty years, people have crossed the border every day without hindrance. But once we Brexit, that border becomes the only land border between Britain and and the EU, so if we are not in the Customs Union, how is that to be managed? May’s deal, which hit the buffers so spectacularly last month, was for a backstop, which meant that we could never leave, even after the transitional period ending in 2022, unless the thorny problem of the border had been resolved. So if you are in charge of Brexit, the Good Friday Agreement is required reading. A bit like the Bible if you are a priest. Or the script if you are an actor.

The former Secretary of State for Buggering Off, Dominic Raab, occupied the role from July 2018 to November 2018 and then flounced off in protest against the draft deal he himself had negotiated. This week Raab appeared in front of the Parliamentary Northern Ireland Affairs Committee, and was asked whether he had read the Good Friday Agreement. Raab replied ‘Um, I haven’t sat down and started at the beginning and gone through it.. But of course at various points of the negotiations when issues have been raised, it has been an important opportunity to delve into the different aspects very carefully’. In other words, no, he hadn’t. Raab has law degrees from Cambridge and Oxford. He must have read hundreds, perhaps thousands, of pages every week during the course of his studies and then in practice as a lawyer. But with the fate of the nation in his hands, he couldn’t be arsed to read thirty-five pages. The Committee members looked as if they had been slapped in the face with a fish. Raab added ‘It’s not like a novel, you sit down and say ‘do you know what, over the holidays, this is a cracking read’. Yeah, you’re right, Dom. Maybe they should have asked Dan Brown or John Grisham to have a go at drafting it. Then you might have got to the end during your tenure and you might have had a clue what you were talking about. Abject.

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We start our review of the week’s obnoxious outfits with celebritee Kim Kardashian at the amFAR Gala in New York wearing vintage Versace.

Yurgle. Her embonpoint must enter the room five seconds before the rest of her. Ridiculous. And talking of ridiculous, she is not barefoot, she is shod in invisible shoes by Gianvito Rossi.

Ridiculous.

Last week was the Superbowl in Atlanta, and two days beforehand, NFL stars gathered for the annual NFL Honors. This is one of WTF’s favourite events because you always get a lot of men looking very silly. Like Alvin Kamara of the New Orleans Saints, wearing Gentlemen’s Playbook.

There is silky. And there is shiny. And then there is this. He looks like an illuminated, lavender, Christmas tree bauble.

And here is another NFL player, Deshaun Watson of the Houston Texans. wearing a RichFest jacket. You can’t see the Gucci black trousers and OffWhite x Nike trainers. But trust me – they are there.

There is a lot going on here, and none of it good, not least the red collar like the Head Porter at a ritzy hotel in Biarritz. 

Next, we have singer Dua Lipa,wearing Armani Privé.

We are all waiting for the sheer trend to go away and we are still waiting and it looks as if we may be waiting for some time. Armani designed this with the skirt prettily lined, but Dua removed it for the express purpose of flashing her arse, which, in WTF’s view, is not a good enough reason.

Here is actress Jennifer Connelly at the premiere of Alita – Battle Angel wearing Louis Vuitton. As usual.

In effect, this is like a comedy suit of armour made out of an old shopping bag and displaying Jennifer’s somewhat spindly legs.

To London and Scottish singer and celebritee Tallia Storm, wearing who can even say what this is, at the premiere of Lego Movie 2.

Here is a WTF Rule. If it is cold enough for a fur jacket, it is too cold to flash your tummy. Especially in a PVC bralet and matching trewsies. And if the PVC trewsies were not bad enough (and they are, they really are), these also have instant minge access with one zip running around the groin and another running from bellybutton to crotch.

Say hallo to actress Rosamund Pike at the premiere of A Private War, wearing Hermès.

This is a bizarre blend of Annie Get Your Gun and Sonny Corleone in his vest and braces (suspenders to our US friends). WTF was unaware that boob tubes were still a thing, but if they still are, they shouldn’t be.

Rosamund should call the other Hermes, the one without the e-grave, and order them to deliver this load of tat back to the Hermès with the e-grave, and for that Hermès to stick it where the sun don’t shine.

Here we are at the Vanity Fair BAFTA party and British designer Joshua Kane,  wearing himself.

Quite apart from Joshua’s ridiculous appearance, like a bespectacled Cavalier (the ones from the 1600’s, not the doggie breed), it is most unnerving to see a man with ladies and gentlemen wandering across his bits.

And finally this is actress and WWE announcer Charly Arnolt wearing something that looks like she isn’t wearing anything at all.

If Donald Trump ever took to cross-dressing and wanted to walk around giving the impression that he was naked, this would be the perfect outfit. Carly’s spherical tittage is as improbable as Donald’s staff giving off-the-record briefings to reporters that he does not use a tanning machine and his tan is down to  ‘good genes’. As if. The only thing that is genetically orange is an orange. 

This week’s It’s Got To Go is from WTF stalwart Andrew Purcell from Texas who has brought this utterly revolting thing to WTF’s attention – the fake camel toe panties. Yes really.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! IT IS BAD!!!!!!!

AND HERE IS ANOTHER WARNING TO GO WITH THE FIRST WARNING!!!!!

 

Andrew writes ‘Let me provide you with a brief respite from The Brexit Bunch. This has “Its Got To Go” written all over it.  In a universe that allows Donald Trump to be President, I guess there’s room for… “Fake Camel Toe Underwear”‘. No Andrew, there isn’t. There really isn’t. It’s Got To Go.

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

Hallo Readers

Until recently, Boris Johnson was not known for his ability as a conjurer. As an adulterer, certainly. As a liar, definitely.  As someone lazy and unwilling to read his brief, without question. But not as a conjurer. However, one is never too old to be surprised, usually unpleasantly, and Johnson’s ability to make money disappear into thin air (not dishonestly, just by being utter rubbish at his job) has been highlighted by the detailed breakdown of the £53 million spent during his tenure as Mayor of London on the Garden Bridge, a nonsensical leafy white elephant that was supposed to provide pedestrian access across the Thames by Temple Station. We all knew that Johnson could waste money – remember the £331,000 spent on three water cannon that were never deployed and were sold for £11,000? But at least there were three actual water cannon, albeit that they were never actually used because Theresa May, then the Home Secretary, blocked it. In the case of the Garden Bridge, there is not so much as a slab of concrete or a potted plant to show for it. The whole thing was a monument to Johnson’s ego and the old-pals act that allowed family friend Joanna Lumley to gain access to the Mayor and persuade him to commission her long-held dream of an oversized folly, London’s version of Kubla Khan’s Stately Pleasure Dome (And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree); except that Kubla Khan paid for his one himself. The design exercise was slanted in favour of architects Thomas Heatherwick, although they had never built a major bridge; of the three firms asked to tender designs, only Heatherwick got the tip-off that the bridge was supposed to be a garden bridge and not an ordinary bridge. Contracts were handed out like goodies at a kids’ birthday party. The Garden Bridge Trust was set up and fully staffed.  It was like a giant bran tub of business opportunities. 

They say that it is an ill-wind that blows nobody any good, and never was this so true as in this case. Thomas Heatherwick & Co were paid £2.7m. Designers, planners, engineers, consultants and technical specialist company Arup was paid £12.4 million. French contractors contractors Bouygues Travaux Publics and Cimolai SpA were paid 21.4 million, including £2.1 million for ‘costs suffered … and charged to the Garden Bridge Trust for the demobilisation of staff, offices and repatriation of plant and labour’. £1.3 million was spent on boreholes and looking for unexploded bombs. Some bloke got £330,000 for designing the leafy bits that were going on top of the bridge. £166,000 was spent on designing the website. The Garden Trust management ended up with £1.7 million in salaries for not raising enough money to build the thing they were being paid to oversee the building of. And of course m’Learned Friends did not miss out – they pocketed £2.3 million, laid in the Krug and purchased new Ferraris and charming holiday cottages in scenic spots. Even the bloke who paid £3,200 to play table tennis with Johnson is getting his money back. But Readers, do you know who aren’t getting their money back? The taxpayers. The council tax payers. The People in London (who are both council tax payers and tax payers). They all shelled out for something that isn’t there, and continue to shell out for Johnson’s pension as Mayor and his salary as an MP.  If only he had never materialised. At least the Garden Bridge looked nice.

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Our weekly survey of sartorial shite takes us to the Grammys, where shockingness was in abundance like summer fruit in an orchard. We begin with Kylie Jenner, wearing Balmain Haute Couture.

This appears to be a candy pink designer straitjacket, worn with very unflattering trousers and pink Marigold washing up gloves.

More pink, this time on Tayla Parx,  wearing granny’s bedspread. 

Let us hope that Tayla’s granny is not suffering from the cold, what with her granddaughter swiping her cuddly bedcover (or is it a slanket?), and pairing it with colourfully-hued sneakers. 

 Ben Harper  wearing who can even say what this is?

Ben is of African-American and Cherokee ancestry on his father’s side and his mother is Jewish, but for reasons best known to himself, he turned up dressed like a greeter from a Tijuana flophouse. 

Meghan Trainor, wearing Christian Siriano.

WTF tried to think how this could be any more unflattering and then gave up. Meghan looks like the abominable snowman with tits…. and boy, she seems miserable. 

And now an outbreak of Trump twattery, starting with the ridiculous Ricky Rebel, wearing Andre Soriano.

Andre Soriano specialises in designing ridiculous outfits for ridiculous non-persons to ensure that they get their picture taken at events such as this one. Ricky is a campaigner for LGBT rights. Has he ever had a chat with Mike and Karen Pence and the #MAGA mob, all of whom think he is going to burn in hell? WTF would not advise Ricky to walk into a Trump Rally dressed like this or he might never get out alive.

And here is serial offender Joy Villa.  Joy usually wears Andre Soriano on these occasions, but this time she is wearing Desi Designs.

Oh for Heaven’s sake.  Is she appearing in some sort of Alt-Right version of A Midsummer’s Night Dream?

Post Malone, wearing Ashton Michael and matching bootees by Scott Wayne.

Something very unpleasant is happening in the crotch department, the pink belt is camper than a Village People revival and only Barbie should be seen in pink boots. And probably not even her. Meanwhile, if there one thing WTF cannot abide above all things, even above a neck tattoo, it is a face tattoo.  WHY??????

Katy Perry, wearing Balmain Haute Couture.

Katy has an innate genius for getting it wrong. Like here. Balmain has managed to make her look like Mr Blobby.

Leon Bridges, wearing Bode.

Apparently, this suit is covered in badges of places in Texas, his home State, that mean something to him. That is as maybe, but he looks like a boy scout who has outgrown his trousers…. 

Stylist Jeannie Mai, wearing Balmain.

Yawn. Next. 

Cardi B’s younger sister, ‘social media star’ Hennessy Carolina, wearing not enough.

Like a tangerine Pantomime boy. The pointy minge guard is excessively …er….labial.

And Cardi B herself, wearing vintage Mugler Haute Couture.

In the immortal  words of Cheese, a character in one of WTF’s favourite films, Barry Levinson’s  Tin Men, “there’s definitely some sort of sickness that runs in that family…..”

Andra Day, wearing Cheng-Huai Chuang.

If Phoebe from Sesame Street went to a fancy dress party as a stripper, this is what she would look like.

Finally, here is music engineer and distinguished former winner of the WTF Summer Stinker 2016,  Shawn Everett, looking like a right idiot. No change there….

WTF is struggling to understand what is going on here, but has concluded that Shawn is very excited about the upcoming finale of Game of Thrones and has come dressed as Ser Gregor Clegane, aka The Mountain.

This week’s It’s Got To Go is from WTF aficionado Humfrina who is aghast at the horror that is the Marks  & Spencer Love Sausage. Yes really.

As Humfrina observes, this speaks for itself. M&S decided to mark Valentine’s Day by marketing the Love Sausage. Ooh er missus…. This is more a case of Carry on Up The Khyber than Casablanca and It’s Got To Go.

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

Hallo Readers,

The British Body Politic, which had been ailing for some time, has finally succumbed to massive organ failure and is currently on life support, hooked up to those machines that go beep, beep, beep, like you see on the telly. The left side of the Body Politic started leaking, with eight constituent elements becoming detached. The diagnosis was a lethal mixture of Corbynitis, acute-non-Brexititis and antisemitism. On the right side of the Body Politic, three constituent elements detached themselves. The diagnosis was acute-non-Brexititis, extreme-anti-Moggery and a dislike of Mrs Maybe and her intolerance of immigrants various. Doctors in white coats are running one way shouting ‘we are a broad church’ whilst other doctors are running the other way shouting ‘we’ve got the malign bits out and now we can heal’. When the medics cannot even agree on the diagnosis, let alone the treatment, the prognosis is not good.

It has been a long time coming. In the Labour Party, Trots various called MPs who appeared to support a second referendum and/or the existence of the State of Israel, traitorous Blairite scum and urged them to leave the party. Now that they have resigned, they are being called traitorous Blairite scum for leaving. In the Tory Party, the three MPS who opposed Brexit were described as the enemy within and saboteurs. Now they have resigned, they are being attacked for deserting the party that needs them. There is no pleasing some people. And it is clear that in the days to come, others will follow, both Labour and Conservative. The Body Politic is bleeding out and there is a shortage of needles, suturing thread and anaesthetic. 

Antisemitism has plagued the Labour Party for a long time, and Corbyn stuck a few plasters over the wound rather than wield the scalpel. On the day seven MPs resigned, to general crowing cries of good riddance from some, and weasel words from others, the party readmitted Derek Degsy Hatton, a rabid Trot from the 1980’s who did his best to run Liverpool into the ground. Sadly, Hatton’s triumphant return only lasted two days before he was suspended over an alleged antisemitic tweet from 2012.  You couldn’t make it up, and you wouldn’t want to.  As for Brexit, there is no sticking plaster large enough to cover that wound, no kidney bowl deep enough to hold the pus leaking from it. There is no point calling for the crash cart. The patient is acystolic. Beep, beep, beeeeeeeepppppppppppppppp. Time of death March 29 2019.

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We start our review of the week’s fashion flotsam with singer Paloma Faith wearing No 21.

Oh dear. Oh very dear. Paloma looks like one of those cheap bathroom sets you can buy for £10 – bathmat, toilet mat and loo seat cover. We can but pray that no-one tried to wipe their feet – or worse- on her.

Next up, we have artist Lyali Hakaraia.  WTF has no idea what the hell this is. No idea at all.

WTF does not mind a man in drag as long as he looks good and has a certain swagger, but Lyali does not just look like a sack of shit, he looks positively creepy. He is wearing a prick-skimmer as a skirt, which is quite bad enough, Lord knows, but worst are the nude shoes, beloved by so many of the Royal Family, particularly St Kate of L K Bennett. WTF’s advice to Lyali is to button his coat and bugger off.

Kim Kardashian wearing vintage Thierry Mugler.

Easter is edging ever closer, but that does not excuse Kim going around dressed as a hot cross bun.

And look how tight those straps are. Her cups runneth over. The whole thing looks extremely painful and when she disrobed at the end of the night, the imprimatur must have lingered for days.

We now go to the Brits, the poor man’s UK version of the Grammys, where nonsense was all around. Let us begin with singer Sam Smith ,wearing Raf Simons.

Whoever told Sam that he looked good in this suit was not his friend. The colour is nice and the lace shirt is fun, but there is moose knuckle on display beneath the ill-fitting, Norman-Wisdom-style, way-too-short jacket, and the trousers are in a Mexican standoff with his ankles.

Singer Leigh-Anne Pinnock from Little Mix, wearing Suzanne Neville.

One can understand why Leigh-Anne wants to show off her body, because she a fab figure, but she has pitched up in public looking like one of those Hawaiian dancing girls that greet you in the lobby of a Honolulu hotel and drape you with leis. 

Singer Olly Alexander.

Like a public schoolboy dressed up as Edward VI in the school play. Dismal.

Singer Grace Carter, wearing a flasher mac.

Was there no cloakroom at the event?

Singer Lily Allen , heading to the after party in her undies and a blonde wig.

WTF had the misfortune to read an article in which Lily described how she had to have her nipples waxed (ouch!) before donning this outfit, which appears to consist of a pair of Spanx Power Panties underneath a deceased flamingo. The whole thing is very cut-price Diana Dors. (Did you know Diana Dors’ real name was Diana Fluck? Just saying…)

Performance artist Daniel Lismore, wearing dunno what.

If Yosemite Sam went to a fancy dress party as a space-age Turandot, this is what he would look like.

And finally, Montana Brown. celebritee and ‘star’ of that pile of steaming poo, Love Island, wearing Cherry Williams London.

WTF compliments Montana’s waxing technician, who has removed everything with great thoroughness. She is however forced to be somewhat sterner with Cherry Williams, whose poor handiwork has resulted in Montana sporting a shocking wedgie…. #nomorearsecheeks. Pretty please.

This week’s It’s Got To Go is from WTF aficionado WTF who is deeply appalled by this Burberry hood. You want bad taste. Look no further than the Noose Hood, premiered during London Fashion Week.

What the actual fuck? When did hanging become fashionable? When did a noose become a fashion accessory? What the hell is wrong with these people? What next? An axe sticking out of someone’s head? Burberry has withdrawn this nonsense but it should never have seen the light of day in the first place. It’s Got To Go.

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

Hallo Readers,

The President of the United States is a liar (8,500 proven lies since taking office two years ago), a racist, a shyster and also happened to be the colour of a nuclear tangerine, but such is the new normal that most people no longer bat an eyelid one at anything he says or does, however obnoxious, disgusting or ridiculous. But things are changing. After two years of supine right wing nutters controlling the House of Representatives, the Democrats have power and are holding a series of hearings questioning Michael Cohen, Trump’s former lawyer, who has now turned on him. Cohen is an unsavoury blend of Tom Hagen, the Corleone lawyer in The Godfather, and Ray Donovan, the eponymous Hollywood fixer on the telly. Cohen came to public notice last year when he claimed to have paid porn star Stormy Daniels $130,000 of his own money, unknown to his client,  in order to silence her claim that she and Trumpy had made the beast with two backs a decade earlier. It then turned out that Trump had known about it, although he had previously denied it. Next we learned that Trump authorised Cohen to silence Stormy, repaying him in a series of cheques. Trump then claimed that Non Disclosure Agreements were standard for billionaires like himself, and he had not breached campaign finance laws by paying her off to make himself look like a loyal husband and father to the electorate.  The current version of the story seems to be that although Cohen pleaded guilty to campaign fraud at the behest of Individual 1, (aka Donald J Trump), there was no crime. Because people, especially lawyers advised by other lawyers, always plead guilty to non-existent crimes. Cohen also pleaded guilty to lying to Congress about a possible Trump Tower in Moscow. In the campaign, Trump claimed that he had never had any interest in Russia. Cohen said on oath last year that any interests were over before 2016. (In the US, it is a crime to lie to Congress. Here, lie to Parliament and they put you in the Cabinet). Cohen also coughed to a number of other shystery  activities like tax evasion, and is off to prison in May to do a three-year stretch.

When Cohen gave public evidence to the House Oversight Committee on Wednesday, he had names, dates and documents, and for nine hours, he sang his little heart out. He had the cheques reimbursing him for Stormy. He had mortgage application forms showing Trump lying about his assets. He had papers indicating that Trump got someone to buy his portrait at a charity auction for $60,000 and then repaid him from his charitable foundation. He described tax fraud and a cornucopia of criminality. The Republicans on the Committee had one tactic – calling Cohen a liar and a convicted criminal. The problem is, he agreed with them. Their outrage at his calling Trump a liar was delicious and dispiriting to behold in equal measure. 

There now appears to be a glimmer of light at the end of the stinking rancid tunnel into which Trump has dragged us. It sometimes takes a crook to nail another crook and the nails were going into the coffin like an undertakers’ workshop. Committees various will now be all over Trump’s business dealings, his tax returns and his  bank accounts like a rash. Trump’s money man, Alan Weisselberger, who has immunity, is testifying in public on Wednesday.  And we still have Mueller’s report and further investigations by the New York authorities to come. Settle back in your seats. Bring popcorn. This is going to be fun.

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We’re off to the Oscars to consider a dozen shocking specimens from the Red Carpet and the various after-parties. We begin with singer Pharrell Williams, wearing Richard Mille and a Chanel necklace, seen here with his wife Helen Lasichanh. Helen looks fine.

Ah! There was a time when Pharrell graduated to long trousers, but he has lapsed back into shorts again, looking like an extra from Apocalypse Now.

Another singer, Leona Lewis, wearing Christian Siriano.

The colour is pretty but the shape is baffling and the fabric is hideous. The best that WTF can suggest is that this is a negligee with its own built – in headboard. And can women please stop sticking their leg out à la Angelina Jolie? It’s boring now, and it cannot be good for your hips.

Actress Maya Rudolph, wearing Giambattista Valli.

Leona is wearing the headboard. Maya is wearing the bedspread.

Let’s complete the bedroom trilogy with Chadwick Boseman, wearing Givenchy.

Had this been a jacket, it would have been lovely. Except that it isn’t a jacket, it is a sort of frock coat – cum- dressing gown, worn with a long black scarf which swoops past his groin almost down to his patellae. Even Donald Trump doesn’t wear his ties as long as that. All in all, there are too many things dangling at random.

Awkwafina, wearing DSquared2.

The scarf makes her look as if she has no neck, the hair makes her look as if she has no shoulders, the trousers make her look as if as she has no feet and the shine of the material could illuminate a whole street. Whoever did the cutting, and then the fitting, must have imbibed a few before picking up the scissors and the pins.

Model Heidi Klum, wearing Elie Saab.

You can always count on Heidi to wear something terrible on Oscars night, and this is no exception. She looks like a crow that has survived some very botched chest surgery.

Rita Ora, wearing Alexander McQueen.

Well of course Rita was amongst the worst dressed. When is she not? The top half is 19th century Wyoming saloon floozy and the bottom half is 21st century minge mask.

Megan Pormer, wearing Iris van Herpen.

Good question. Who the hell IS Megan Pormer? To be brutally frank, lovey, if you turn up on Oscars night and you have to tell people who you are, you shouldn’t bother turning up at all. This outfit falls into the category of get-yourself-noticed-at-all-costs, complete with deeply unnerving faux-pubes. And if WTF were going out (un)dressed like that, she would want to hide her face as well.

Designer Tommy Hilfiger wearing Tommy Hilfiger, and his wife, designer Dee Ocleppo. 

What a tosser. Keen Readers may recall that last year Tommy put Lewis Hamilton into a lairy tartan kilt and he now has used the off cuts to make himself this ridiculous suit, worn with dainty velvet slippers like George IV before he got gout. As for his spouse, what is that thing in her hand? It looks like a golden walkie-talkie.

Actress Linda Cardellini, wearing Schiaparelli. 

Good grief. It’s Red from the Angry Birds Movie in a mullet skirt.

Supermodel Kendall Jenner, hardly wearing Rami Kadi.

OK, Readers with your eyes out on stalks, Kendall is stunning with amazing everything, but this is not a dress, it is a loincloth complete with an imminent minge moment. There is more pelvis on display than in a midwives’ midterm test paper.

And finally, Billy Porter wearing Christian Siriano.

It’s magnificent and mad at the same time. If Scarlett O’Hara went to a fancy dress party as Fred Astaire AND Ginger Rogers, this is what she would look like.

This week’s It’s Got To Go is from WTF aficionado Yvonne from Jedburgh who brought this horror to light, as featured in a tweet from S Rifai (@THE_47th)

It’s like something out of Jurassic Park. Over to S Rifai’s for his/her observations ‘You get married, have a kid, you read him a story every night until elementary school, you support him through HS, be there throughout his formative and teenage years through all the ups and downs..and one day he comes back to lunch wearing this thing’ Agreed. They’ve Got To Go.

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

Hallo Readers,

Those of you who are kind enough to read this blog regularly will know that WTF is obsessed with the death of shame in public life. This week brought two more stark examples to recoil from.

First, Fiona Onasanya MP recently was absent from her duties on behalf of the people of Peterborough. Not to have a baby. Not because she was ill. No. Onasanya was in prison, having been convicted of persuading her brother falsely to claim that he had been speeding in her car, thereby perverting the course of justice. Onasanya, who was a solicitor, now has the dubious distinction of being the first serving woman MP to go inside. She was released last week on parole, and is obliged to wear a tag on her ankle, which must play havoc with the House of Commons’ security scanners.

Because she was only sentenced to three months, (she served half of it), Onasanya does not have to give up her seat,  a condition applicable only to those sentenced to twelve months or more. As a result, a convicted criminal is free to vote on legislation and to pontificate on whatever point she chooses in the Chamber. Admittedly most politicians are liars, but they have not been banged up, they do not go bleep every time they walk in and out of Parliament, and they have not inhabited the equivalent of Cell Block H. Does Onasanya intend to resign? Of course not. After her conviction, she compared her tribulations to those of Jesus. WTF is not very conversant with the New Testament, but she is fairly certain that if He had been caught speeding on his donkey along Nazareth High Street, he would have ‘fessed up and not got Peter or John to take the blame for it.

And then there is the one-man wrecking ball that is Chris Grayling MP, Secretary of State for Transport. When we last left him, he had awarded a £14m emergency post-Brexit ferry contract to a new company with no ferries, something which he did not see as a problem, not at all, not even when the company’s standard terms and conditions turned out to have been copied from a food delivery business. On the contrary, Grayling insisted that there had been proper due diligence. A month after the furore, the contract was scuttled when it became apparent that the company had no ferries AND no financial backing. However, these were only the foothills of the fuck-ups of which Grayling is capable, and he was just warming up. This week, it emerged that the Government, (that means us, UK Readers, our money, our taxes, handed over to imbeciles to squander), had to hand £33m to Eurotunnel in an out-of-court settlement in compensation for its future loss of business, were the emergency ferries Grayling had commissioned, not that one of the companies involved actually had a bloody ferry, ever to set sail across the Channel to dodge the 100 mile queues consequent upon a no-deal, no Customs-Union Brexit. Grayling did not even go to the Commons to justify this latest calamity, and sent the Secretary of State for Health instead, who was then roasted like a saddle of lamb. Is Grayling about to resign? Not a bit of it. Apparently, the City of Calais has made it clear that he is not wanted there. He isn’t wanted here either. Sadly, we are stuck with him.

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We begin our sartorial survey with a trip to Paris Fashion Week, and actress Amber Heard, wearing Giambattista Valli.

Whilst better than some of Heard’s recent attire, this is still terrible. It is like recovering from a stomach infection and then succumbing to thrush. The dress looks like a very elderly flamingo on its way to the knacker’s yard.

Also wearing Giambattista Valli, actress and singer, Janelle Monáe.

She has got a fez on her head, like the late, lamented, comedian Tommy Cooper, and she appears to be wrapped in a collapsed parachute, displaying some fetching décolletage.

This is former model Elena Perminova, now married to squillionaire oligarch Alexander Lebedev. Elena is wearing Balmain.

Elena is very beautiful and has a pair of legs to die for, but this dress is a dud. It is basically no more than a vest and a quilted fanny flap. And what happens if she were to wear it to the theatre? There will be an encroachment into the seat on her right. People get upset at having their space invaded in this way. Just saying…

Here is actress Shailene Woodley, also wearing Balmain.

The 1980’s are back. We have former Home Secretary Amber Rudd calling a black MP, ‘coloured’ (see below), and now Balmain is marketing these hideous acid-washed jeans that sag around Shailene’s hips like a denim sack.

Away from Paris, we have American TV squeaky person Kristin Chenoweth, wearing who can even say what?

We had Megan Pormer with faux-pubes last week, and now we have more faux-pubes on Kristin. These are worse because they appear to be more, er, hairy. Kristin has also shown a certain cowardice in wearing little flesh-coloured shorties and bra, which match each other but not her skintone, which puts the tan into tangerine.

We now encounter young actress Baillee Madison, wearing Emporio Armani.

What the hell is this? She appears to be sitting in a sea of snot. This is just terribly terribly, terrible. In fact, it left terrible some distance back and is now travelling through ‘what the actual fuck’?

Meet Canadian actor Avan Jogia, wearing Sies Maran.

If a teddybear went to a fancy dress party as Freddie Mercury, this is what it would look like.

And finally, a truly horrible sight. Two of the cream of British womanhood, although in their case they are closer to skimmed milk, glamour models and celebritees, Rhianne Saxby and Sarah Longbottom. Rhianne is in black. Sarah is in white with her right nipple on show.

WARNING – NIPPLE ALERT!!!!!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!!

Fake hair, fake tits, fake tan and lips like rubber tyres. See through. Nip slips. Horrible.

This week’s It’s Got To Go is from WTF aficionado Linda from South London, who took great exception to former Home Secretary, now Secretary of State for Work and Pensions, Amber Rudd, using the word ‘coloured’ to describe Diane Abbott MP, a black member of the Labour Shadow Cabinet. The irony is that Rudd was actually trying to defend Abbott against the bucketful of abuse she receives from psychopathic racist wankers various, as well as sticking up for other female MPs.

Unsurprisingly, Abbott took a poor view of Rudd’s  use of the word ‘coloured’, describing it as ‘telling’. Rudd probably did not meant use that word but, honestly. The word has not been in accepted use for decades, and a Cabinet Minister has no business speaking it aloud on public radio. Or at all. Every time Rudd opens her mouth, she puts her foot in it.  She’s Got To Go.

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

Hallo Readers,

Here is your Brexit update as at 11 30 pm on Thursday 14 March 2019.

Parliament does not want to Brexit with Mrs Maybe’s deal. It has now said so twice. No one wants her crap deal, not even Mrs Maybe – it is about the only thing everyone agrees on. Parliament does not want to Brexit with no deal, but that vote was only advisory and without legal force. Parliament does not want to ask the EU to put everything on hold until 2021, or to delay Brexit until May 2019, or to ask for a delay whilst it works out what other sort of Brexit we can have, or waits for a miracle involving loaves, fishes and duty free wine. And Parliament does not want to hold a second referendum. Parliament does want to ask the EU for an extension to Article 50, and voted for a Government motion to this effect by 413 votes to 202. Pipsqueak Stephen Barclay, the Brexit Secretary, spoke in favour of the motion, urging ‘It is time for this House to act in the national interest, it’s time to put forward an extension that is realistic’. He was so unconvincing that he failed to convince himself, because he, and seven other Cabinet Ministers, then voted against the very motion he had just been supporting. A ninth Cabinet Minister, the Chief Whip, whose job it is to get MPs to support the Government, abstained. You would not send this lot out to buy you a packet of Polo Mints and a box of Kleenex. They would either come back with some Cheesy Wotsits and a roll of quilted toilet paper, or they would resign on the way home and bugger off with your change.

Meanwhile, Labour, which is supposed to now be in favour of a second referendum in circumstances that nobody actually understands, including them, ordered its MPs to abstain on the motion for a second referendum because ‘the time isn’t right’. They are probably waiting for a sign from Heaven, a star above Westminster, or perhaps a clap of thunder and some  lightning bolts. Several shadow ministers, whom WTF would not recognise were they sat in her kitchen eating carrot cake, resigned after voting against the motion, on the basis that the last manifesto had promised that Labour would respect the Will of the People. Several others voted for the motion.

So to sum up – we have no approved deal, we have no idea what deal we want, and even if we wanted it, the EU would not give it to us. We might want a second vote, but only in circumstances where there is no ‘r’ in the month and the moon in alignment with Jupiter. The right wing lunatics want no deal at all, even though everyone else agrees that this is a really shocking prospect. And there is no guarantee that we can have an extension to Article 50, particularly as we don’t know what we would do with an extension if we got one, and nobody has a fucking clue what is going on. Mrs Maybe’s big idea is to ask for a third vote on her crap deal. Einstein observed that the definition of insanity was to keep doing the same thing and expect the outcome to be different. On that basis, it is time to call for the Prime Ministerial straitjacket. She has not only lost her voice, she has lost her reason.

However, Readers, be of good cheer. Piers Morgan, the man who is so far up Trump’s arse that even his shoelaces have disappeared from view, has the solution! He tweeted it on Thursday night. ‘I’ve given this a lot of thought & come to the conclusion that only one person can now sort out this ridiculous Brexit mess: @realdonaldtrump. He’d take no sh*t from the EU, or Parliament, or anyone. And he definitely wouldn’t lose his voice. Mr President, my country needs YOU’. Mrs Maybe, it seems, is not the only one who needs a call from the men in white coats.

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Let us escape from the asylum for a brief moment and contemplate the fashion follies of the week, starting with the aforesaid Theresa May off to Church on Commonwealth Day, wearing a Daniel Blake coat and Liz Felix hat.

WTF aficionado Tom from London discovered this assault on our eyeballs. How bad does she look? What is that hat? Why does the coat have leg-of-mutton sleeves? Daniel Blake and Liz Felix are clearly both diehard Remainers. What about those gloves, and the matchy-matchy clutch, and the chunky jewellery? As WTF aficionado Jen sagely observed, our Prime Minister would do better spending less time accessorising, and more time sorting out Brexit. Meanwhile Tom also sent in the portrait of Lady Margaret Hawkins from the late 16th century to show where May got her inspiration. Are the two ladies related? They certainly have the same grim expression. Bravo Tom!

Next we have socialite and DJ, Paris Hilton, wearing Christian Cowan.

Paris is not sporting rabbit ears – that is part of the backdrop –  but the rest of the ensemble is so comical that it would not be surprising if she were. There is a cornucopia of crapulence to behold, including the Afghan hound bunches, the hideous, too-long, onesie, and the criminally horrible handbag. When your pooch is better dressed than you are, it is time for a radical rethink.

Also also wearing Christian Cowan, model and now TV presenter Heidi Klum. 

Heidi is dressed as Gonger from Sesame Street. Extra minus points for those painful-looking sandals.

To London and the Global Awards 2019, where we come across singer Mabel McVey, wearing Natasha Zinko.

Here is a WTF Rule. When you have to stand with your hand over your crotch to avoid a Fanny Flash, there is something wrong with your outfit. And with you for wearing it. Quite apart from that, the dress is ugly and it doesn’t fit.

Here is Orange is the New Black actress Natasha Lyonne, wearing Marc Jacobs.

Some of us lived through the Eighties, and have no desire to go back there, sartorially speaking. The shoulders are ridiculous and the whole thing is very Princess Di.

This is Khloe Kardashian wearing LaQuan Smith. Well, I say ‘wearing’….

Mingetastic. Indeed it is all there to be looked at, with more gynaecological detail on view than a week’s CCTV footage from a knocking shop. 

And finally, we meet French actress Angelique Boyer, wearing a reversible dress by George Figueroa. She started off the night wearing this side of it.

Then she turned it around. To this.

Thanks to aficionado Jonathan from Bloomsbury, who kindly brought this outfit to WTF’s attention. The front was moderately respectable. The back was not even a back. She looks like a sparkler with belly button and tits.

This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado Rona from Hackney, who complains about the horror of the unisex toilet. Such is the excellence of her rant, that WTF repeats it in full.

‘So I’m dining out in a delightful restaurant and the moment has come to visit the powder room. Cue what should be a restful and fragrant interlude of indulgent femininity – the chance to literally powder one’s nose, reapply lipstick, perfume, adjust clothing, have a cry or a giggle or a gossip. But now it’s unisex and what woman wants to do all that in the company of some bloke she’s never met, or worse, has met? Not to mention the horrors of some, I repeat some, gentlemen’s toilet habits, which, shall we say, are less than fastidious. So what we have is a stripped back-to-the-essentials experience that needs to be got through asap. This is the very opposite of civilised and, sadly, it is yet another example of the slow erosion of those little rituals which can make everything seem so much more pleasurable.’

Indeed. It’s Got To Go.

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

Hallo Readers,

When WTF was at about ten, she used to ensure that she sat next to a boy called Andrew B whenever baked beans were on the school lunch menu. This is because WTF hated baked beans with a vengeance, (and she still does – they’re so slithery). Andrew B, on the other hand, loved baked beans, and, to be fair, every other form of comestible, and so he wolfed down the aforesaid beans and everyone was happy. Until one day, Andrew B was unwell, probably from a surfeit of foodstuffs, and so he was off school on baked beans day, which left WTF without a convenient receptacle to put them in. As a result, they remained uneaten on her plate. WTF was told to eat them up. She refused (always the bolshy little bastard, even aged ten) and she was kept at the lunch table until 2 30 and refused permission to go and play with her friends. But the beans remained uneaten and, for once anyway, she went hungry.

Mrs Maybe’s Brexit plan reminds WTF of those school baked beans. She promised to deliver us fish and chips, mushy peas optional. Instead, she is serving up spam fritters and baked beans. Not only that, but she is telling us that spam fritters and baked beans are much better for us that fish and chips, that we will really, really, love spam fritters and baked beans, that fish and chips are off the menu, and that it is spam fritters and baked beans or nothing at all. At first, people held out for fish and chips. But as time ticked by, and hunger started to gnaw at their entrails, spam fritters and baked beans become more appealing, even to those who cannot abide the thought of them. The clock hands are edging ever closer to 2 30 and the prospect of no lunch gets worse and worse. And so, a few people are starting gingerly to fork tiny bits of spam fritter and baked beans into their mouths, wincing with distaste to be sure, but swallowing them nonetheless, because they feel that they have no choice. The plan is now that enough people will be hungry enough and desperate enough by the next vote to go down the spam fritters and baked beans route rather than the air diet route. As a strategy, it sucks. But it is all she’s got. She is wholly dependent on running down the clock.

Mrs Maybe chose to supplement this you’ll-eat-it-and-like-it approach with a side order of it-isn’t-my-fault-it’s-Parliament’s-fault. On Wednesday, she appeared for about eight nanoseconds on live TV and told the British people that she was trying her best to deliver spam fritters and baked beans but those bloody MPs in Westminster were busy barricading the door to the larder. WTF had always understood that the whole point of this sorry Brexit exercise was to give power back to Parliament, instead of sneaky little unelected Europhiles calling the shots. Now it appears that Parliament’s exercise of powers is a Bad Thing. So what the hell have these last three years been about? Thanks, David Cameron. Thanks for nothing.

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We start the review of the week’s wanky wear with singer and Oscar nominee,  Lady Gaga, wearing Rodarte.

Blonde bombshell meets biker girl meets French maid. Ooh la la…

Now we have actress Alex Borstein from The Magnificent Mrs Maisel, wearing something very terrible.

From the neck up, it’s fine. From the neck down, there is horror in abundance. The shirt is straight out of a Victorian bordello, the trousers do not flatter and have clearly been designed for someone about a foot taller, while the chain belt takes WTF back to the days when she was a teenager and was banned from the dining room at home because her dad was enraged with the scratches inflicted on the backs of the Mahogany chairs by WTF wearing one around  her chubby waist.

The rest of our sartorial silliness comes from the i-Heart Radio awards, starting with singer John Legend, wearing Paul Smith.

Those trousers are decidedly snug. They must rub harder than an enthusiastic  brass-rubber on a sponsored brass-rubbing weekend. And WTF has long railed about too-short jackets à la Norman Wisdom. Even Norman did not wear white shoes, and quite rightly so, because no grown man should wear white shoes unless he is either playing sport or is a medical professional.

Next up is singer and actress Madison Beer, wearing Ester Abner.

MINGE ALERT! This is a Minge Moment waiting to happen and the bajingo blind is patently not up the job. It has been very windy of late. One gust and it will be Open Sesame. There is also a preponderance of over-upholstered tit.

Meet actor Raahsud Dunn, wearing Giovanni Testi.

WTF likes a laugh as well as the next person but the jacket does not fit and its swirliness is giving her the spins. But the main concern here is the trousers. Why is one leg higher than the other? Is he a freemason? Love the sparkling slippers though……

And now, superstar singer Taylor Swift, wearing Rosa Bloom.

Taylor looks like a member of the chorus line in a revival of 42nd Street.

Here is singer Poppy, wearing Viktor and Rolf.

If Ozzie Osbourne ever fancied wearing a frilly nightie, this is the one he would go for. As for the trainers, WTF prefers not to speak of them. Meanwhile, Poppy’s head, complete with a turd top-knot, looks to be superimposed on her body, as if displayed on a spike after an execution, like  in Game of Thrones.

Finally, singer Tiffany Young wearing Jean Paul Gauthier.

If Tinkerbell went to a fancy dress party dressed as one of The Three Musketeers, this is what she would look like. Those things on her legs are amongst the worst legwear WTF ever did see in her life  And she has seen a few stinkers over the years…

This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado Abbie Doran from East London, making a splendid debut with these monstrosities from the ‘swimwear collection’ offered up for public delectation by Missguided. Ready? You won’t be.

Abby writes: If these catch on, there’ll be a thrush pandemic that could cause Canesten to go into administration to keep up with the demand for some clotrimazole relief! They look genuinely painful…

She is right. It’s Got To Go.

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

Hallo Readers

You remember Sidney Carton. He is the hero of A Tale of Two Cities, set at the time of the French revolution. He is  deeply in love with Lucie, but she is in love with, and was loved by, French émigré Charles Darnley, who is really a French aristocrat and heir to the evil Marquis St. Évromonde. When the Marquis is murdered, Darnley goes over to France in 1792, is captured and is condemned to the guillotine. Carton, who just happens to be a Darnley lookalikey, takes his place so that his friend and Lucie can be together. As the book ends, Sidney is about to get the chop, but is consoled by the good he is doing. ‘It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known’.

Theresa May is an unlikely Sidney Carton, but on Wednesday night she offered to put her head on the block if her party promised to vote for her Brexit plan, the one that has already been voted down twice by a weird combination of the dastardly Old Etonians, led by le Duc de Boris and le Marquis de Mogg, the rude mechanicals led by Marc Francois and Andrew Bridgen, a truly terrifying rabble from Northern Ireland, and the sans-culottes that are Corbyn’s Labour Party. As a rallying cry, ‘Vote for my crap deal and I promise to go back to Maidenhead’  may not have the ring of ‘Liberté, égalité, fraternité, ou la mort!’, but the clock is ticking and the copywriters are out of time. We were supposed to be out of Europe at 11 pm today. But we are still arguing how – and if – to do it.

The Northern Irish lot remain staunchly opposed, as do most of the European Research Group, of which Le Marquis is Chair. This includes Fatboy Francois, who declared that he would not support the deal were someone to put a shotgun in his mouth. WTF would settle for a ball-gag and some extra-adhesive masking tape. The same goes for Bridgen, a man whose expertise on European politics led him to assert that as a Brit, he was automatically entitled to an Irish passport. (Er…no). However, le Duc and le Marquis have suddenly embraced the very plan they have already voted against and which they attacked for reducing us all to slave-nation status. This change of mind may have less to do with the merits of the deal and more to do with the prospect of the removal van in front of No 10 Downing Street, as May, her chunky Wilma Flintstone jewellery, and her long-suffering husband, climb aboard and ride off into obscurity, leaving the job of Prime Minister up for grabs.

So this is where we are. Our heroine is willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, but even that inducement may not work. Which leaves us up the creek without a canoe. Forget Brexit Means Brexit and the promised Land of Milk and Honey. We are facing Crap Deal or No Deal, and Boris Johnson as Prime Minister, a man who would sell his granny for sixpence and even deny her the right to take her dentures. Far from re-asserting our place in the World, we have become an international laughing stock. England used to tell Irish jokes. France used to tell Belgian jokes. Now the World is telling British jokes. Remember Project Fear? This is Project Fucking Terrifying.

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We start the weekly review of fashion faecal matter, beginning with singer Rita Ora wearing Denim on Denim by Diesel.

This is what happens when you cross a sheep and a pair of jeans. If it is cold enough for a fleecy coat and boot-spats, it is too cold for a denim romper, the shirt tails emerging from a micro-skirt like denim minge-flaps. And sunglasses in the dark – only if you have a sty.

This is actress Ginnifer Goodwin at Paleyfest, wearing Zuhair Murad.

This ill-fitting mess looks like cosy thermal long-johns, only it is designed by Zuhair Murad, not Damart. Indeed, it is likely that Damart’s wares would have provided more support for Ginnifer’s boobage, and would not have sagged around the patellae like grandpa’s neglected sleepwear.

To the Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Awards, where we encounter Hiphoppers Migos, wearing Alyx Studio. All of them.

What kiddies’ choice was this? Weird things are happening around the knees, perhaps to prevent the droopage we have seen on Ginnifer. And why are they wearing clown shoes? 

Here is singer and actress Jennifer Hudson wearing Hanifa.

My Little Pony has turned her hooves to designing trousers. Sadly, they do not fit.

Finally from the Awards, here is actor Shameik Moore, wearing who can even say what this is?

The designer of this horror has kept himself or herself anonymous. Good Call. It looks like khaki vomit with a double helping of carrot.

Welcome back to WTF’s favourite diva, Mariah Carey wearing Balmain.

Mariah is 5’6″ but this Balmain creation barely passes muster as a top, as the rear view, almost literally, demonstrates.

Mariah favours towering stilettos like these bejewelled Louboutins, which means that she can only get from A to B by clutching onto the hand of a beau or paid minion. Sadly, she has chosen pantyhose in the wrong hue and so shiny that her legs look like a couple of uncooked sausages.

Actor and entertainer Billy Porter has appalled us quite a few times this year, and here he is well up to his low standards, wearing a kaftan by self-styled ‘kaftan queen’ Travis Ostreich, a jacket by Palomo and trousers by Vassili.

The colour combo is striking, but everything is so glaring that you would want to find Rita Ora and offer your life savings for her sunglasses. And that jacket clearly started off life in the kiddies’ department at Bloomingdales.

Finally, to Rio and Brazilian TV presenter Sabrina Sato wearing Tomo Koizumi.

Well this is colourful. Plus wearing a couple of feather dusters means that she sweep up as she walks…..

This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado WTF of Islington, who has taken against Theresa May’s coat. She is sick of seeing the Prime Minister, for now anyway, wandering around the place dressed like a pastel Paddington Bear.

This horrible shapeless garment is actually a padded jacket with a detachable elbow-lenth coat over it. It is by Italian designer Herno and it could be yours for a mere £750.

Like May herself, It’s Got To Go.

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

Hallo Readers, 

Here is your Brexit update. It is still a clusterfuck. Everything is as bad as ever, only worse. Everybody hates everybody else and no one trusts anybody. Everyone is stabbing each other in the back. We may or may not be leaving the EU shortly. We are still an international joke.

At times like this, one looks for comforts wherever they may be found. And where better than the rotund, puce-faced, Mark Francois MP, Deputy Chair of the Tory European Research Group. Francois claims to be a military man. He talks about the Army not teaching him to lose, as if he had engaged in man-to-man combat with ISIS fighters and rough types various from Afghanistan. In fact, Francois was once in the Territorial Army, in some unspecified role, probably running the laundry or peeling the spuds. Even Dad’s Army would have rejected him. Whilst others around him succumb to the Maybe Deal for fear of losing Brexit altogether, Francois stoutly continues to hold out for a No Deal. Sadly, on Wednesday, he and his colleagues were outfoxed by the Cooper Bill, which would compel the Government to go back and demand more time from the EU. This passed by one vote, at which point Francois gave a splendid impression of a pan of exploding offal. He ranted. He raved. The veins in his forehead bulged like giant tadpoles. It was like Krakatoa, Essex-style. Fearful colleagues crouched low in their seats to avoid the likelihood of being showered with fragments of Francois. ‘And it went through in the end, Mr Speaker, by one vote…Someone shouts from a sedentary position 52-48. There’s a difference between a majority of 1.4million and one.’ Er, yes, matey, that is because the electorate of Great Britain is bigger than the membership of the House of Commons. It is called representative democracy. But Francois was on a roly-poly. ‘So all I would say to the Right Honourable Gentleman opposite and his parliamentary colleagues is the public won’t be impressed by this. Forgive them Father for they know not what they do….’

Granted that Francois was annoyed by this unexpected turn of events, but invoking the final words of Jesus during the Crucifixion, particularly this close to Easter, was seen by some as presumptuous. We have barely had time to get our heads around the concept of Francois as the lovechild of the Duke of Wellington and Ross Kemp, aka Grant Mitchell off East Enders. Now he has morphed into the Messiah. Only last week, Francois was vowing never to support May’s deal, even were they to put a shotgun in his mouth. Now he is calling for a cross and some nails. This obsession with martyrdom in the Brexit cause is positively disturbing, but if that is what he wants, who are we to stop him? Mind you, he is what the Australians call ‘a big unit’. If they are going to nail him up, they had better order in some super-strength timber. And some extra-large nails.  

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We start our review of the week’s crappy couture with Cabinet Minister Liz Truss, probably the dimmest woman in Government, off to a meeting at No 10 Downing Street. WTF has no idea what Liz is wearing. None at all.

This is a sort of check jumpsuit thingy. It is far too tight around the chest, giving her a mono-boob, exacerbated by the ridiculous belt, and it is crinkling everywhere like a sharpei’s bum. Clock the jaunty red shoes, carefully selected to match her Ministerial red folder in a failed attempt to make her look interesting.

To the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and singer Harry Styles, wearing Gucci (of course). He is holding the hand of Fleetwood Mac legend Stevie Nicks, 70, who looks awesome.

This is what happens when you put a Little Lord Fauntleroy doll into a boy band. This is your fault, Simon Cowell. Yours.

Also in attendance were actor (Silvio Dante in The Sopranos) and musician (E Street Band) Steven van Zandt,  seen here with his actress wife Maureen van Zandt, (who played Silvio’s wife Gabriella). In real life, they have been married for 27 years. 

Steven is bedecked in purple like a Roman Emperor, even his scuffed suede shoes. Ever since he went through a car windscreen many years ago, leaving his scalp badly scarred, Steven has favoured some form of head cover, and it must be said that the bandanna is the outfit’s only redeeming feature. Which is the saddest statement ever.

Here are two rank examples of Sheer Tedium from the GLAAD (Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation) Media Awards. First off, actress Olivia Munn wearing Yanina Couture.

As WTF aficionado Navid gasped, ‘She’s so naked’! You have to be desperate for attention to venture out and about with a couple of peacocks nesting on your nipples. And what happens if she had to raise her arm to hail a taxi or fend off someone with Harvey Weinstein-style intentions?

And second, young actress Alexandra Shipp, from X-Ray Apocalypse, wearing Reem Accra.

This dress is ranker than a skunk during a deodorant manufacturers’ work-to-rule. WTF particularly deplores the crotch-to-knee mourners’ curtain, and the vomitous floral pattern, as if a fox has thrown up in a flowerbed.

WTF has a very soft spot for actor Kiefer Sutherland, he of 24 and Designated Survivor, but even she finds this ensemble difficult to forgive. Indeed, the Pope would struggle.

You only ever hold your jacket like that when it is too small, although the colour is good on him. But then we come to the blue aviators, the lounge-lizard scarf, the terrible jeans crumpling over his knees and those shoes!!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE SHOES? Did he steal them off a dosser dosing in a doorway? Those shoes are not so much distressed as devastated. As are we for having to look at them.

We next call in at the NAACP Image Awards to find more birdies, this time on actress Tracie Ellis Ross, wearing Marc Jacobs.

It is entirely, gloriously, bonkers. You need to have massacred one hell of a lot of birds to have put this dress together.

And we now encounter two more shocking examples of Sheer Tedium. First actress Kate Beckinsale, wearing Minge Maestro Julien Macdonald.

WTF just knew this was one of Julien’s because (i) it has more holes than a colander (ii) it is see-through (see (i) above) and (iii) it has the mandatory minge shield. 

Oh and (iv) you can see Kate’s arse. Arse cheeks are as staple a feature of Julien’s work as lining is in nearly everyone else’s. 

And finally, actress Cynthia Erivo wearing Mario Dice.

There may not be a law against candy-coloured lace, but there should be. One look at Cynthia and the jury would not even bother to trek back into their room for tea and biscuits before delivering a guilty verdict. Only her ugly panties spared us from a full-on Minge Moment in a sea of sugary pink ruffles, like a flamenco flamingo after wandering over a landmine.

This week’s It’s Got to Go comes (quite separately) from WTF aficionados Mary, Ruth-Anne, Honsca, Humfrina and Alessandra, all of whom have spotted this appalling horror of horrors. Meet the Janty (jean panty – geddit?), which costs a mind-boggling £235.

Ready? You won’t be…..

This is good news for waxing technicians and bad news for everyone else. Denim sans panties sounds very uncomfortable and wearers should have a tube of Canesten nearby at all times. Twitter came up with some excellent observations on the topic. Brandy Jensen tweeted that she was looking forward to her first jeast infection, while Mean-Moe Green referred to the risk of jamel toe. This whole design is overpriced and is horribly Mingey and It’s Got To Go.

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