WTF Wiz Special

Hallo Readers, The Mighty Wizard of Oz, surrounded by fire and smoke, promised Dorothy that if she brought him the Wicked Witch of the West’s broomstick, he would help her return to Kansas, help the Scarecrow to get a brain, help the Tin Man to get a heart, and help the Cowardly Lion to find some courage. But when Dorothy handed over the broomstick, the Wizard seemed reluctant to keep his side of the bargain until Toto, Dorothy’s dog, pulled back the curtain to expose a feeble old man with a sound system.  And that, Readers, is our Prime Minister. Tug at the curtain with your little doggy teeth, take away the bluster and the bombast and the joie de vivre, and what have you got? A feeble, fifty-five-year-old with a microphone, telling you that yes, it was imperative for you to stay indoors, even if your elderly mother was on her own, even if your father was in a home with dementia, even though your child was in a hospital bed all alone, even if you had to say goodbye to your dying spouse using the doctor’s iPhone, even if you have not seen your grandchildren for weeks on end,  even if your business was going down the drain. But his Spccial Adviser Dominic Cummings was entitled to get in his car with his wife, who was positive for Covid-19, and his little son, and drive 260 miles up to Northumberland in case they both got too ill to look after the lad, in which case his sister could do it. Or something. And he was entitled to go for a sixty-mile round trip on a beautiful day with his wife and son because he needed to ensure that his eyesight was good enough for him to drive back to London the next day. To a beauty spot. On his wife’s birthday. Apparently his wife does not drive. So had, 30 miles out, Cummings discovered that his eyesight was too dodgy to go another foot, who was going to get the family back to Durham? Was the little boy going to do it, talked through the motions like the air stewardess in Airplane? Cummings was apparently following ‘his instincts as a father’ – something Boris Johnson would know very little about. Hell, he probably does not even know how many children he is father of. The Brits can forgive a screw-up. They can accept an apology. But they really, really, hate someone taking the piss. And Cummings was not just taking the piss, he had removed our kidneys and was squirting the contents all over us, the rule of law, and the sacrifices decent people made to ensure that this bloody nightmare abates as soon as possible. And they do not want to told that Cummings’ instincts as a father permit him to do what many other people have not done, or that their not having done it makes them bad parents, or bad children, or bad siblings, or bad partners. Or to be told it with sputtering disdain. Or to hear it parroted out by the dim, craven, nonentities who make up the Cabinet. They want their Prime Minister to stand up for the people who kept to the rules, not for the person who broke them. And when the Guardian, the Daily Mail, the Church of England, Sir Roger Gale MP and Alastair Campbell all think that you are in the wrong,  you probably are. Toto has pulled back the curtain, And we can all see what lurks behind it.

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Readers, WTF got so excited when researching this Footballer Fashion Special last week that she pressed ‘publish ‘instead of ‘save draft’. Apologies to those who received a wordless blog last week only hours after the WTF Scarlet Pimpernel Special pinged into your inbox or flashed up on Twitter  Don’t worry – there have been some changes to make it even better, (or should that be even worse?) plus the comparison pics and the commentary. Never was the phrase dick pic so appropriate. So read on. If anything defines the phrases ‘more money than sense’, and  ‘fashion victim’,  it is a footballer paid £££££££££££££££ a week. The football suggestion came from WTF aficionado and stalwart Leslie of Lisson Grove. Leslie harkened nostalgically to the days of Watford, Liverpool and England footballer  John Barnes, a very classy player and a very ridiculous dresser. Here is John (far right) and some Liverpool colleagues from the 1996 FA Cup Finalist team wearing ludicrous Emporio Armani suits.  (They lost to Manchester Utd 0-1). Although this was well outside the period which is usually covered by these fashion retrospectives (2012 onwards), this one features John in deference to Leslie. Liverpool’s players looked like the Man From Del Monte ads. Only he said yes. WTF says no. Here we are in October 2012 with then-Liverpool footballer Djibril Cissé, wearing Givenchy. Who knew Mohicans could be Beefeaters? And why is that loo-chain pull hanging around his neck ? Now we are in September 2013 with Gareth Bale, formerly of Tottingham Hotspurs, now Real Madrid and Wales, wearing Louis Vuitton. WTF is unable to tell whether that was a LV-logoed teeshirt under the cardie or a cardie with a peplum. Whichever it was, it was shocking,  like designer long johns but without the lunchbox.   In September 2014, we featured Mario Balotelli, formerly of Inter Milan and Manchester City, out on the town in Manchester wearing who knows what? WTF does not even know what this was supposed to be. There is distressed, and there is frenzied. In April 2015, we saw  Charles N’Zogbia formerly of Newcastle, Wigan Athletic and Aston Villa, wearing this flowery concoction. He had been dobbed in by a fed-up teammate, who put the pic on Twitter. WTF cannot better the observation of a tweet at the time, which observed that Charles looked as though he had been shat out by Cath Kidston. Speaking of whom…. April 2015 also saw Alex Song,  formerly of Arsenal and Barcelona, wearing this.  Alex was clearly channeling Pharrell Williams, but he was more of a prat in a hat, like a Mountie wearing his toddler’s denim jacket. In October 2016, we found Manchester City, then Stoke, player Wilfried Bony, wearing something preposterous. WTF does not mind the yellow leather jacket, but she is in the greatest indignation at the Masonic Apron and the shoes like something out of The Magic Flute.  This one hurts. A lot. Here is Arsenal legend Tony Adams in April 2017 in a truly terrible suit. WTF has retinal fatigue. Bigly. Tony resembled Harry the Horse from Guys and Dolls. Another Arsenal player, Spanish full back Hector Bellerin seen in January 2019 at London Fashion Week, wearing Prada. Another prat in a hat, only this hat was last seen on Inspector Clouseau. The eyebrows were pure Groucho Marx and the trousers were borrowed from Charlie Chaplin. We are how in Paris in February 2019 where we encounter Brazilian captain and Paris St Germain player Dani Alves, celebrating teammate Neymar’s birthday. Good grief. He looked like a town crier with tattoos and a can of Red Bull. And here is the aforesaid Neymar Jnr  as he launched a joint fragrance with Diesel in May 2019.\ If Neymar went to a fancy dress party as singer Billie Eilish, this is what he would look like. You could get the whole PSG team into those shorts and have room for the training staff. We cannot go on without David Beckham. Here he is in December 2019 wearing Dior. Look, Becks used to be handsome. Now he is seedier than a newly-reopened garden centre. And his mega-expensive suit looks like an oil slick. And we have saved the best till last. February 2020 saw Everton player Tom Davies wearing Michael Kors at New York Fashion Week. He is wearing a dressing gown like Noēl Coward, only Sir Noēl would have sneered at the yellow glasses, arranged his cravat properly, and eschewed the pointy purple pumps. Itsgottogo-x1200px
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Bindy from Wiltshire who is rightly appalled by the new-format, Covid-relevant episodes of the long-running radio soap The Archers, which now has only badly-written monologues or one-sided-phone-calls. It is more wooden than Oliver Stirling’s apple orchard.
As Bindy rightly remarks, if she wanted monologues  she would go to Alan Bennett’s Talking Heads. It’s Got To Go.
Itsgottogo-x1200pxbottom OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please keep on sending in your comments, as well as your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go and your nominations for the fashion celebrity retrospective. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good, STAY INDOORS AND WASH YOUR HANDS. x
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PREMATURE PUBLICATION NON-SPECIAL

SORRY GUYS

You got some of the pics for next week without the c commentary or the lookalike pics. Many apologies, IUt will be with you next week xx

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WTF Scarlet Pimpernel Special

This week’s WTF is for WTF aficionados and dear pals Rebecca, Bindy, Rona, and Claire, all of whom had their birthdays this week. 

Our shitshow Government is as useful as a sundeck on a submarine. As Barack Obama observed of Trump’s admin, ‘More than anything this pandemic has fully, finally torn back the curtain on the idea that so many of the folks in charge know what they’re doing. A lot of them aren’t even pretending to be in charge,’ In the case of Boris Johnson, he is not even seen to be pretending to be in charge. Other than his ‘Stay Alert’ broadcast, the logic and clarity of which defeated teams of top rocket scientists, and a weekly trip to the House of Commons for Prime Minister’s Questions, when Keir Starmer rips him apart with surgical efficiency, sightings are rarer than rocking horse shit. He is more elusive than the Scarlet Pimpernel.

‘They seek him here, they seek him there, Those Frenchies seek him everywhere. Is he in heaven or is he in hell? That demned elusive Pimpernel’

But not nearly as elusive as any consistent Government policy or direction about anything whatsoever. If there is a Government policy, which there isn’t, it is this:

  1. Make an announcement.
  2. Wait for a flurry of protest and derision.
  3. Reverse the announcement.
  4. Blame Health Secretary Matt Hancock.
  5. Repeat. 

If you are Health Secretary Matt Hancock, Step 4 is sadly unavailable to you, in which case your only option is to hurl insults at Starmer and get told off by the Speaker. Or to get your pals in the media to attack teachers for refusing to return to work in schools, although it is manifestly not safe for either them or the children to do so.

This week’s fiasco started at PMQs on Wednesday. The Scarlet Pimpernel announced that the Immigration Health Surcharge of £400  (which will rise to £624 in October) would still be payable by non-British NHS staff as part of their visa requirements, even though they are risking their own lives with insufficient PPE to save other people’s lives during the pandemic. Indeed, among those hauled back from death’s door was The Scarlet Pimpernel himself. Johnson acknowledged that the two ICU nurses who had saved his life were from New Zealand and the Philippines respectively, and that he had ‘thought long and hard about it’, but the surcharge would nevertheless remain in place, given that it had raised £900m in four years. (By the way the suggestion that Johnson has ever ‘thought long and hard’ about anything other than his next shag is risible). The next afternoon, Matt Hancock told the daily Press Briefing that he and the Home Secretary, the dreadful Priti Patel, had been instructed to change the policy, and now all NHS staff, including health workers, porters, and cleaners, as well as independent health workers and social care workers, would be exempt. So why did we have all this hokey-cokey nonsense? Because between noon on Wednesday and five pm on Thursday, buckets of ordure had been thrown at the decision-makers, including by Tories who dubbed it ‘mean-spirited and immoral’. Which it was. Which this Government is. For shame.

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This week’s celebrity fashion retrospective was nominated  by WTF aficionado and stalwart Rebecca from Cornwall – it is singer Katy Perry. We start our review of her fashion flotsam in October 2012, only months after WTF began this blog, with our heroine wearing something really unpleasant in a shade of snot olive and the sort of stout footwear worn by East German factory workers in the 1960s.

If an olive tree went to a pool party, this is what it would look like.

Here we are in December 2013 in Las Vegas, with Katy wearing a Unif Nu Frenz “dress’ and a Chanel mini-backpack.

The apposite questions here are ‘you what?’ and ‘why?’. Like a Victorian child on a bad acid trip.

We are now in New York in August 2014, with Katy wearing a nice leather jacket by Swedish brand Acne (sic), a see-through green dress, matching green hair and a stupid hat.

Here is a WTF rule. Hair should not be green, unless you are a mermaid or you have gone mouldy.  The whole look was inspired by Disney cartoon character Disgust. Two more words of advice for Katy – Factor 30. Her chest was positively radioactive.

April 2015 saw Katy at Coachella, the balls-aching annual celeb-fest in the Californian desert. Fortunately, Governor Newsom banned it this year because of Covid-19, but he needs to think of another reason in 2021. Perhaps his decision was based on sight of this picture of Katy wearing Moschino.

Katy, Jeremy Scott, and Moschino are a bad combination, but this had left bad behind weeks ago and had ended up at putrid. She looked like a medieval Harlequin in a gold leather bra.

October 2016 saw Katy at a Spotify The Creators event in Los Angeles, wearing Dolce & Gabbana.

 

The girly ‘Guten-Abend-Fraūlein’ plaits and giant crucifix were oddly  discordant with the gold courtesan bustier and unflattering trewsies, while Katy’s head looked awfully flat, like Lurch in The Addams Family.

We are now at the Met Ball in May 2017  in New York, with Katy wearing Maison Margiela.

So here we had a Minge donut and a headdress WITH WING MIRRORS and, even by Met Gala standards, the whole thing was utterly ridiculous. Katy resembled nothing so much as the Zombie Bride.

And then Katy doubled down on an evening of sartorial shockingness by attending the after-party wearing Ulyana Sergeenko.

Wozzis? She was maintaining the zombie theme and looked like a lady of the night walking the streets of Hell. (Do they have streets in hell? If they do, they are probably like the one WTF lives in during these Covid-19 times, with screaming neighbours and fuckers various yelling into their cellphones on loudspeaker, and playing Bryan Adams’ greatest hits far too loudly (ie, anything above mute)). The minge-emphasising belt is foul. It is all foul. Foul.

Here we are in October 2018 at a QVC Shopping Channel event (No, WTF does not know why), with Katy wearing Gallia Lalav. 

Barbie goes street-walking. Plastic was not fantastic. Not even at all.

February 2019 saw Katy at the Grammys wearing Balmain Haute Couture.

Great hair and makeup, but Balmain decided to put Katy into a silver-topped , fluffy, loo-roll holder.

And finally we are back in New York at the 2019 Met Gala, wearing Moschino. The theme, by the way, was ‘camp’.

Camp was one thing. Turning up dressed as the world’s largest chandelier (it’s in Gwalior in India, by the way, and very magnificent it is too), was quite another.

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This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado WTF of Islington, who is madder than a wet hen about supermarket etiquette in these Covid-19 times. It is all very well standing outside in a socially-distanced-two-meters-apart-queue, and then getting inside and trotting around the one-way system, only to stand at the wine shelf or the household items shelf choosing your wares with some wanker sidling up two centimetres from you and reaching across to grab their bottle of Rioja or carton of Ariel tabs. And they’re usually not wearing a mask…. Are people really in such a hurry in the middle of a pandemic lockdown that they cannot wait twenty seconds for you to move off?  Bastards.  It’s Got To Go. 

 

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OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please keep on sending in your comments, as well as your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go and your nominations for the fashion celebrity retrospective. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good, STAY INDOORS AND WASH YOUR HANDS. x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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WTF Lies and Incompetence Special

Hallo Readers, 

As Abraham Lincoln wisely observed, you can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time. Particularly in a pandemic when some of the people are concerned about the fact that other people are dropping like flies, and they might follow suit. You can tell them that a test is available to anyone who wants one, but when they cannot get one, and when they hear other people saying that they cannot get one either, some of the people will ask questions. You can tell the people that the death rate will not rise above a certain figure, but when that figures is passed and the number keeps on rising, some of the people will ask questions. You can tell the people that, like Baldrick, you have a cunning plan, but when the plan does not materialise, some of the people will ask questions. At which point, it will be incumbent upon you to have an answer to their questions. And an explanation as to why your previous answers turned out to be downright false. And it is not an answer to some of the people’s questions that you ‘have been working very hard’. Particularly if you have not obviously not been working very hard, or started working very hard much too late.  And even if you ‘have been working very hard’,  which you haven’t, that is still not an excuse if the results of your alleged hard work are that people are dying in droves, and those who are still alive have not got access to tests, and doctors and carers are donning plastic bin bags and bandannas because they have not got the right equipment. And are also dying in droves.

And another thing, When you are found out, and your lies and incompetence are exposed, the proper response is not to blame the people who are exposing your lies and incompetence and to call them out for being ‘unsupportive’, or ‘nasty’ or ‘disgruntled’, and then to set about smearing their reputations, attacking their integrity, and calling them liars and incompetent. Particularly when they aren’t.  And to complain that some of the people are not grateful for everything you are doing, when what you have done is not good enough. And then to blame the experts whose advice you ignored to pursue your own political agenda. Because you know what, Boris Johnson and Donald Trump? Yes, your media toadies will pump out propaganda that would embarrass Squealer the Pig. And yes, you have supporters who believe whatever you say, or, even if they don’t, will not let your lies and incompetence bother them. But, as the body count rises, there will be more and more people who are not fooled, or who will realise that they have been fooled and will now see the light. And then what? 

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This week’s fashion retrospective, with apologies to WTF aficionado Joyce from Hong Kong, has been chosen by WTF herself,  who has gone for Kim Kardashian. We start our review of Kim’s fecal fashion matter in May 2013 with her appearance at the Met Gala in New York, wearing Givenchy.

Admittedly, Kim was heavily pregnant, but that was no excuse to go out and about looking like a cheap sofa. And she seemed to have been without hands.

We now move to November 2013, where we find Kim at a Mario Testino exhibition in New York walking around in this nonsense.

She was wearing a bra, and the Tom Ford sandals were very nice. But the mesh polo neck bore an uncanny resemblance to the string vest worn by Rab C Nesbitt, and the clingy skirt looked like an old codger’s long johns.

Here we are in August 2014 at the Video Music Awards with Kim wearing Balmain.

 

For some reason, Kim was dressed as a saddle blanket with tits. 

November 2014 saw Kim launching something or other, wearing Atsuko Kudo. 

Why would anyone want to go out in public looking like a blow-up sex doll? WTF would not advise Kim to go wandering around a sex shop dressed like that or someone might try and take liberties with her orifices. And WTF cannot even start to imagine how long it takes to takes to get that dress on and off. Kim must have a stash of talcum powder larger than Mount Everest.

Now we are at Paris Fashion Week in October 2016, where Kim was on the front row of every major show until she and her jewellery parted company after her apartment was stormed by rough types. This picture was from before that, wearing Balmain.

Remember WTF’s golden rule.  If you have to walk around with your hand over your minge, there is something wrong with your outfit. And with you for wearing it. Even more bizarrely, Kim covered her breasts in a nude bra whilst according her minge only manual cover. This is what happens when you pay a fortune to wear an old fishing net.

July 2017 saw Kim wearing vintage Helmut Lang and Yeezy shoes, the brand owned by husband Kanye.

You know those plastic bags covering your dry-cleaning? Kim was wearing one of those together with white panties and bare boobs. Why did she bother with the bag at all? Just wear the coat and panties. Save the planet.

In February 2018, Kim attended BeautyCon (with the emphasis on con) in Hollywood, wearing vintage D&G.

This was supposed to be a blazer, but WTF suspects that it would not have fastened around Kim’s surgically enhanced tits and buttocks. So she chose to wear it as a straitjacket, paired with cycle shorts. If Lance Armstrong went to a fancy dress party as Kim Kardashian, this is what he would look like.

February 2019 saw Kim was seen wearing vintage Mugler.

Ouch! That dress was designed for a stick-woman without protuberances.  Not for someone with protuberances the size of a couple of footballs. The indentations must have lingered for days……

In May 2019, Kim was back at the Met Gala in New York, this time wearing Mugler.

If it  were not for the hair, it would be quite impossible to tell which bits were Kim and which bits were Mugler, but the overall impression was of a Werther’s Original caramel with spangles.

And finally, we are in March 2020 where Kim, in Paris for Fashion Week, went to Church with Kanye, wearing Balmain.

As Jesus almost remarked ‘Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel toe to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.’ Call for the Canesten! And it had gloves instead of, or attached to, the sleeves.  Meanwhile, who wears fuck-me sandals on a Sunday morning in March??? If a stick of toffee had a minge, it would look like this.

 

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This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionados, Yvonne from Jedburgh, and her daughter Daisy from Camden Town, who have, with full justification, taken against actress Amanda Holden.

Not only did Amanda inflict a book upon us, wearing a tight yellow dress and a double helping of nipples to the launch, but she has now dampened people’s spirits during the pandemic by releasing a cover version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow, with proceeds going to NHS Charities. Judy Garland, she ain’t. If she appeared on Britain’s Got Talent, she’d be buzzed off before she got to the bit about bluebirds flying.  Jog on, love…. It’s Got To Go. 

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OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please sending in your comments, as well as your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go and your nominations for the fashion celebrity retrospective. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good, STAY INDOORS AND WASH YOUR HANDS. x

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WTF Stray At Home Special

Hallo Readers, 

On Thursday, the UK death toll had risen to over 30,000, but that did not stop the British press from titillating cabin-feverish citizens that the end of the strict lockdown was in sight. They urged Boris Johnson to permit people to go and about, partaking of picnics, and sunbathing on the sands where they could bare their pasty white bits and pieces coram publico, not to mention contracting serious sunburn while getting pissed in the pub garden. But whether they had received a bum steer from their unnamed sources in Whitehall and Westminster, or, more likely, that this shit-show of a Government changed its mind (again), it now appears that caution will not be thrown to the winds just yet, and although we may be allowed to visit a few family members outside our immediate households, er. that will be it. Citizens can at least take comfort from the fact that Johnson was due to address the Nation on Sunday afternoon, at the end of what is likely to be an uncharacteristically warm and sunny Bank Holiday weekend, and by Monday the weather will again be cool and damp, making the prospect of eating sausage rolls and Russian salad al fresco rather less appealing.

The right wing papers are positively rabid in their determination to get us off the sofa and out and back to work, presumably on the basis that people are furloughed and that smacks of socialism. The working class should be working, not watching Homes Under the Hammer. According to the DailyMail, we are all suffering from ‘coronaphobia’, whereas people would just  prefer not to have to go to work on crowded trains and buses, there to contract a potentially deadly virus. First we were told to stay at home because it is dangerous to go out, and now we are being excoriated for staying at home because we think it is dangerous to go out. It is time to find a scapegoat, and as it cannot be the sainted Boris, who cheated death to lead us out of this chaos, it has to be the people who are not at work because they were told not to go, and the scientists who advised us that there needed to be a lockdown in the first place.

Which brings us to Professor Neil Ferguson, whose pandemic projections prompted the stay-at-home policy. It appears that the Professor, or the ‘Bonking Boffin’ as The Sun has christened him, had allowed his lover twice to come round to his house for a bit of the other. Better still, she was a married woman!! And in an open marriage!! And living with her husband in a house worth £1.9 million!! (not when the recession hits, it won’t be). What better to distract us from the rising death rate, and the useless Government and its flip-flop policies than a brainy bloke having a shag with a married woman who lives in a posh house? As a result whereof, all this week we have heard from the Professor (who has now quit his job advising HMG), and from friends of the lover, and from the Professor’s estranged wife, and from his mother-in-law, 79-year-old Elsie Pirie, who stuck up for him, and probably the milkman and the bloke who runs the corner shop at the end of his road,  but WTF had long stopped reading about it by then because she couldn’t give a stuff about Professor Ferguson and his sex life, and she knows the ultimate dead cat bounce when she sees it. Let us have less about the Professor and pub gardens, and more about the 30,000 victims and why they died, and how the rest of us are to stay alive. Because that, Readers, is more important.

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This week’s fashion retrospective has been requested by WTF aficionado Honsa from West London, who wants to be reminded of the serious fashion faux pas committed by actress Salma Hayek. What makes matters so much worse is that Salma is married to French billionaire François-Pierre Pinault, who in effect owns Gucci, Yves St Laurent, Alexander McQueen, Balenciaga, Christopher Kane, Stella McCartney, and Bottega Veneta. You would think that Salma would be the first in line for the pick of their designs, and yet she usually looks dreadful. Perhaps part of the problem is that most of these lines design for stick insects, rather than for Salma’s magnificent embonpoint. But as WTF has remarked on a precious occasion, she always seems to end up with the runt of the litter.

We start in March 2015 with Salma attending the Alexander McQueen exhibition Savage Beauty at London’s Victoria & Albert Museum, wearing McQueen.

The dress was certainly striking, but Salma looked very unhappy in it, probably by reason of the fact that many swans seemed to have died in vain and that two peacocks were using her chest to carry out their mating ritual. And you know what rutting peacocks sound like. Meanwhile, Salma’s stance made her look as if she was desperate for the loo.

Here we are in October 2015, with Salma wearing Bottega Veneta.

No really, what WAS this? It resembled an old army camouflage tent pitched somewhere in the Falklands and it was downright dog-ugly. (Sorry, doggies). 

Now we find ourselves in November 2016, where Salma attended the London premiere I Am Bolt, wearing Gucci.

Had Usain caught sight of Salma, he certainly would have bolted, and given how fast he can run, he would probably got as far as Wimbledon in his attempt to get away from this ridiculous and ill-fitting John Lennon look-a-likey ensemble.

Next, we are in May 2017 at the Cannes Film Festival  where Salma was wearing Gucci.

Every part of this outfit would have to be have improved 100% just to get to putrid, from the ‘Gosh, I’m stoned, I’ve got the spins’ kaleidoscopic flared-led jumpsuit, to the ridiculous brothel-creeper sneakers, to the horrible handbag, to the silly sunglasses. It is no surprise that Salma ended up as a nominee for the coveted title of the 2017 Summer Stinker.

November 2017 found Salma at The Los Angeles County Museum of Art aka  LACMA, which was hosting its Seventh Annual Art+Film Gala. Obviously, she was wearing Gucci,

Her  hair and makeup were beautiful, but not only was this somewhat snug around the tit department, but the fabric looked like the spillage from a bottle of the sort of cheap iridescent nail varnish you find in pound shops. 

In March 2018, Salma attended the Oscars, wearing Gucci.

Last year, the Internet went crazy over the new phenomenon of the washing machine cover, the silliest thing since the Australians thought up a frilly cover to cover their clothes driers for garden parties and weddings. Clearly whoever dreamed this up had caught sight of Salma the previous year. As for Gucci, it was obviously influenced by Rousseau’s observation that ‘Man is born free and everywhere he is in chains’.

And finally, we find ourselves in January 2020 in London, where Salma was out and about in yet more Gucci. 

If Ozzy Osbourne went to a fancy dress party as Mr Toad, this is what he  would have looked like.

 

 

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This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado and stalwart Leslie from London who is fed up with pandemic car ads. Leslie says ‘Before the pandemic, advertisers would say…. for example…. “Buy an Audi” Now it’s a rather soft focus Scottish accent, the sort of voice a 1950s methodist minister would use for a funeral. And it goes….. “We know these are difficult and uncertain times, but we want you to know that we are here for you. Now buy an Audi”

 It’s Got To Go.

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OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep those comments rolling in and your nominations both for It’s Got To Go and for celebrities whose clothing choices meriting a fashion retrospective. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good, STAY INDOORS AND AND WASH YOUR HANDS x

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WTF Sick Obsession Special

Lamb casseroleHallo Readers,

Boris Johnson, still recovering from his bout with Covid-19, has became a father again (we think this is number six).  But he cannot hide forever behind either his illness or his new baby. The death rate in the UK is 27,000 and rising. The NHS is woefully ill-equipped with staff donning bin bags and re-using masks – a result, we now discover, of an abject failure to secure the proper Personal Protective Equipment. It also turns out that the Government downgraded the categorisation of the virus to avoid meeting the appropriate requirements for PPE, rather than upgrading the amount of PPE to keep staff and patients safe when the virus hit. All this despite a pandemic training exercise in 2016 which concluded that if the real thing were to happen, the UK would struggle due to a lack of equipment.

On Monday, BBC’s Panorama highlighted these matters, featuring a number of NHS staff who go to work without proper protection, terrified for their lives, and forced to watch their colleagues and their patients dying. Whereupon Tory MPs and newspapers, who should be holding this wretched, woeful, shit-show of a Government to account, attacked Panorama instead because of the politics of the doctors and nurses interviewed in it. One had stood as a Labour MP. Another was the daughter of musician Brian Eno and a member of a group that opposes charging migrants for medical treatment. A third was a friend of former Labour MP Frank Field, and had called Jacob Rees-Mogg  ‘a pompous fool’. A nurse had been seen on Instagram wearing a Jeremy Corbyn badge. Never mind what they were saying – they were ‘Trots’.  Then Lord Sugar attacked the media, including Piers Morgan (who has undergone an amazing transformation from celebrity lickspittle to a forensic interviewer shredding arrogant Ministers into pieces small-enough for a wok stir-fry), for asking difficult questions rather than supportive ones. And the new Tory MP for Stoke-on-Trent North, political pygmy Jonathan Gullis, attacked  the media for having ‘a sick obsession’ with the death rate, a tweet he was forced to delete and grovel over about ten minutes later.

To which WTF says as follows. Of course the media should be highlighting the fact that there are shortages of equipment where there should not have been stockpiles, and that figures are being fiddled (counting one glove as one piece of equipment, for example).  Of course the media should be raising hell about the fact that old people are dying in care homes, and those looking after them on very low wages have no PPE. Of course every single person in this country should be concerned at the horrifically high death rate, and what, if any, exit plan, there may be to emerge from this nightmare. Of course NHS Staff should be speaking out about this. And just because our Prime Minister caught the virus and has fathered yet another child, does not make him or his under-prepared minions, exempt from criticism. How dare journalists,   politicians and TV personalities,  all safely tucked away at home, attack workers on the front line, and lash out at those who expose the dangers to which these heroic people are exposed?  Stop telling us how wonderful the NHS is and start protecting both the people in it and the people treated by it. 

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We need cheering up. This week’s retrospective of fashion fiascos features rapper Cardi B, whose clothing choices have stunned regular readers of this blog for a number of years. Cardi is a former stripper with seriously augmented bosoms, which she splendidly explained away as follows: ‘I can’t swim so I bought these titties so I can float.’ With these things she could have survived the sinking of the Titanic without a lifeboat.

We start in January 2016 at New York Fashion Week, where we find Cardi wearing Laquan Smith.

This might have looked pretty around the hotel pool at the Beverley Hills Hotel, but WTF feels confident in saying that the top was a trifle small, a veritable sprat to catch a mackerel.

We move on to August 2017, where Cardi attended the promotion for the Floyd Mayweather fight against Conor McGregor.

This could very well be the very ugliest thing that WTF has ever seen, like a peekaboo Yogi bear outfit. And WTF still takes particular exception to the encrusted minge.

We move to October 2017 and the BET Hip Hop Awards in Miami, with Cardi wearing Lauren DeWitt.


This was more of a case of Lauren Half-Witt. Not only was this the very textbook definition of what WTF aficionado Anna brilliantly labelled ‘genitalia curtains’, but it also made Cardi look like an exploding glitter ball.

We move to October 2018 where Cardi attended the Power 105.1’s Powerhouse event in New York City. No one owned up to designing this outfit. Good call.

If the Cowardly Lion from The Wizard of Oz went to a fancy dress party as Cardi B, this is what he would look like.

In January 2019, Cardi appeared wearing this denim ensemble by Dolce & Gabbana.

Standing with your hand over your minge is always a good indication that something is awry.  It is best to leave it to Cardi B to explain what was 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?’”  She may not have wanted one, but wearing this was hardly conducive to her not getting one. Cardi would have been better off either taking a size up or, better still, leaving this foul outfit on the hanger.

The following month, Cardi was at the Grammys wearing vintage Jean-Paul Gauthier. 

You had to admire the artistry in this creation, but the whole thing was very reminiscent of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. In that painting, Venus covered her minge with her tumbling locks. Cardi B and Jean-Paul decided to use lines of pearls instead. And the jewel emerging from her tummy-button looked like the results of botched surgery.


Here is Cardi in June 2019 at the BET Awards, wearing Nicholas Jebran.

Not so much genitalia curtains as a minge waterfall. Normally it is the prince who turns into a frog, but in a push for sex equality, this time it was the princess. 

Here we are at Paris Fashion Week in September 2019, with Cardi wearing Richard Quinn.

At the time, the face mask looked ridiculous.  But Cardi B clearly had a better understanding of pandemics than most political leaders…

In October 2019, Cardi went out and about in New York City wearing Sally La Pointe.

It was hideous, a leather tribute to Batman villain Two-Face.

And finally, we arrive at the Grammys in January 2020 with Cardi and her spouse, rapper Offset. She was again wearing Nicholas Jebran.

WTF does not have the faintest idea how this dress stayed on, but she does know that Jessica Rabit is alive and well and living in Cardi B.

 

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This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado and stalwart Yvonne from Jedburgh who was in shock, and then some, on seeing this Donald Trump sandwich.

 Yvonne is in doubt that ‘this sandwich has got to go, before it even takes off as an idea by Donald Trump and his fans’. When she tweeted it, fellow tweeter Maiella replied ‘And it’s so… moist. One for the “just because you can, doesn’t mean you should” pile’. Yvonne and Maiella are both correct. It’s Got To Go.

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OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep those comments rolling in and your nominations both for It’s Got To Go and for celebrities meriting a fashion retrospective. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good, STAY INDOORS AND AND WASH YOUR HANDS x

 

 

 

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WTF Corona Choice Special

This is dedicated to the memory of my lovely friend Barbara who died one year ago this week, and who was a great fan of this blog. She is much missed.

Hallo Readers,

In the great US state of Georgia, Georgians will be waking up today quivering. Some of them will be quivering because they have coronavirus, but others will be quivering because 24 April is the day they can go and get tattooed, have a hair cut and a pedicure, and go to the gym. Governor Brian Kemp, a man who would need a brain transplant just to qualify for the description of deeply dim, has decreed that this will be so, despite the fact that the rate of infection there is not falling, that the President’s Guidelines stipulate that the rate has to fall for a fortnight before taking teens, tiny, footsteps towards opening stuff, and that social distancing must be followed at all times. And that is not all. On Sunday 26 April, they can go to Church. On Monday 27 April, they can go to the thee-ate-er and eat in restaurants. And thence to hospital a few weeks later, there to benefit from one of the thousands of ventilators President Trump keeps banging on about, before progressing to the celestial version of McDonalds on the Sky, there to meet their Maker. Whose first question will be, ‘what the actual fuck did you think you were doing?’

Even Trump, who has been pushing for re-opening stuff ASAP, has been forced to criticise the Governor’s decision, that is after first praising him and not criticising it, because even a bear of very small brain like him can see that is not easy to have the words MAGA and KAG tattooed upon your epidermis by someone two metres away unless he has a needle the size of a totem pole and twenty-twenty vision. Or for a diminutive Asian nail technician to push back your cuticles and paint your tootsies Seductive Scarlet using a brush bigger than your average basketball player. But Kemp is pressing ahead regardless because the show must go on, because capitalism must thrive, and because he is an idiot. Highwaymen used to demand of travellers, ‘your money or your life’. Now the choice is your hair roots or your life. WTF prefers to colour in her grey bits with a sharpie and hope for the best…….

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By popular demand, this week’s fashion retrospective is about actor Jared Leto, a stalwart of these pages. We start our review of Jared’s injudicious apparel in July 2014 at Paris Fashion Week, where he was wearing Chanel. Women’s Chanel!

Yihaw! Hessian chaps like a cut-price Clint Eastwood and scuffed pink suede boots. The worn-away nature of the scuffed hessian suggested – no doubt wrongly – that there had an element of frottage against a hard surface.

Our next stop is Hollywood in February 2015, when Jared attended the Oscars wearing Givenchy.

Like a lavender wet dream. The last time WTF saw something like that, it was on a pageboy at a spring wedding.  And he could have bought the getup at Marks & Spencer for a fraction of the price….

Here we are in July 2016 at the premiere of the series Great Wide Open,  which he directed, wearing Gucci.

Dolly Parton famously said that ‘it costs me a lot of money to look this cheap’.  Despite the fact that he looked as if he had rolled in dirt, his outfit probably cost the same as a California beach house. As for the footwear, WTF’s dad had a pair of slippers just like those.

We are back to the Oscars, this time the Vanity Fair after party in February 2017.  In Gucci.

He looks like a well-heeled tramp. The whole thing put WTF in mind of the time in 2012 when Ian Beale in EastEnders became a tramp and lived rough in Walford.

In June 2017, Gucci premiered its Cruise Collection and of course, Jared was there.

That is possibly the most ridiculous bathrobe ever. Jared would have been advised to steer clear of any naked flames, as it looked extremely inflammable. The rest of the outfit was like a rancid rainbow of rubbish, down to the silver space shoes like Captain Spock goes gay.

And here is our hero at the Video Music Awards September 2017, in Gucci.

 

If a member of the Grateful Dead went to a fancy dress party as Harry Potter in his invisible cape, this is what he would look like.

September 2018 saw Jared back at Paris Fashion Week, sporting Gucci. 

Oh Lordy. He looks like the lovechild of a fairground fortune-teller and George Harrison in his post-Beatles, Maharishi phase. And those boots indicated that Jared yomped across the Pyrenees to get there.

In December 2018, Jared attended a Christmas party dressed in this Gucci ghastliness.

Who knew that the Snow Queen had such an abundance of facial hair? There seem a lot of things hanging around for no clear purpose, including Jared himself, and those trousers are an assault upon the eyeballs.

In February 2019, he was back at Gucci’s show during Paris Fashion Week.

Sorry but this was a cleaning overall. An expensive, colourful, cleaning overall. Corrie’s Hilda Ogden was alive and well and living in Paris. With a beard.

And finally here we are in Milan in March 2020 at Gucci’s show.

Fuck me, it’s Paddington bear in purple trousers and shoes like gold ingots……

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This week’s It’s Got To Go is from WTF aficionado Zee from Devon, who has taken understandable umbrage at Princess Beatrice, daughter of the nonce’s friend Prince Andrew, who has postponed her wedding to some Italian bloke, again. 

 The first time it was because of the obloquy heaped upon her father after his interview on the BBC about his friendship with Jeffrey Epstein.  HRH reportedly thinks that after coronavirus has passed, everyone will want to celebrate her nuptials with a massive wedding paid for, at least in part, by Tim and Tilly Tosser the taxpayers. Here is the breaking news, No one gives a stuff about Beatrice or her fiancé or her wedding. And should we all come of this nightmare alive, the last thing we will want to do is to fork out to see her in a horse-drawn carriage. It’s Got To Go. 

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OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments, which gladden WTF’s heart, and your excellent suggestions for  It’s Got To Go and the candidates for the celebritee fashion retrospective. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good, WASH YOUR HANDS AND STAY INDOORS. x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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