Just like those films where a deranged nutter rampages about, wreaking havoc and destruction in their wake, is then seemingly vanquished and thrust out, only to make a horrifying reappearance in the final reel, Monday saw the return of Liz Truss to centre stage. You remember Truss. She was Prime Minister for 49 days last year before being wrestled to the ground by members of her party and sent packing – but not before crashing the economy with $45bn of unfunded tax cuts, sending mortgages and interest rates soaring skywards and putting the pound into freefall. She briefly tried to blame her own Chancellor, the man she herself had appointed and then summarily sacked; when that one did not wash, she insisted that she was the victim of something called the anti-growth coalition, whose members comprised anyone from North London, anyone who gave or attended dinner parties, lefty lawyers, obstructive civil servants, Uncle Tom Cobley and the Establishment. Since the happy day she left Downing Street, there have been few sightings of Truss. She was occasionally seen in the House of Commons and she popped up at the Coronation in May wearing a stupid hat. But she largely kept quiet until this week when she decided to emerge from the obscurity to which she so rightly belongs to bestow upon us the benefit of her views on the very economy to which she had taken a hatchet 12 months earlier. And of course, Truss being Truss, she continued to maintain that she had been the victim of the aforementioned anti-growth coalition, that she had been right all along (although perhaps the execution of her plan had been a little hurried) and that if only she had been given the chance to go on as she had started, we would all be gambolling in the sunlit uplands of prosperity and plenty. Oh, and she is writing a book all about it which is coming out in April next year. Be still my beating heart…..
No one was expecting the word ‘sorry’ from this wretched woman, but the brazenness of her defence of the indefensible took the breath away. And if this were not bad enough, and it was, it really was, it then emerged that she was claiming part of the £115,000 annual allowance payable to former prime ministers to help them run their office. For five months until April 2023, she pocketed £23,310 and it is believed that she is carrying on in similar vein for this financial year. Which means that the taxpayers are footing the bill for 49 days of utter failure. And do not forget that for ten of those days, the nation was in mourning for Her Majesty the Queen and political life was suspended, leaving Truss with little more to do than to plot her assault upon our finances and to murder a perfectly good passage of the Bible at the Funeral. And Readers, there is more! It has also been reported that this one-woman wrecking machine has earned £250,000 in speaking engagements since relinquishing office – admittedly not in the Boris Johnson class of income, but Johnson, loathsome as he is, does not speak in a low monotone forcing stunned audiences to prop open their eyes with matchsticks. The moral of the story? It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good, even when the storm was started by the person benefitting from it.
It was London Fashion Week last week and all our fashion faux pas are from there. where the glitterati paraded about looking daft. We start at a party with singer Charli XCX wearing Dilara Fındıkoğlu.
If this is designer, WTF is the tooth fairy. It is nothing but a tattered nighty over a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with a tacked-on minge curtain, like something you would find in a crappy hotel with unpleasing comments about it left by disgruntled Germans on Trip Advisor.
Now we are the Burberry show with actor Jessie Buckley wearing, er, Burberry.
Jessie is lovely but this is a disaster. Whoever is responsible for the hair and makeup needs a slap, a P45 and another slap. And that is before we get to the horrible sweater, the horse-blanket skirt and the under-trewsies. If Kevin the Teenager fancied himself as a fashionista, this is what he would look like.
Alison looks fine. Damian, however, resembles a banana dressed as James Bond.
Next up, we have model Saffron Vadher wearing Miu Miu.
She is wearing knickers. Gold sparkling knickers. Like that bloke with the sixpack from The Rocky Horror Show. Knickers are not trousers. Not even at all.
This is actor Jodie Turner-Smith wearing Viktor & Rolf.
More knickers. This time, they are teamed with a massive bow as if Jodie has wrapped herself up as a birthday gift in opera gloves.
Here is actor Sienna Miller wearing Schiaparelli. She is pregnant, by the way. Who knew?
Look, a bump is fine. Pregnant women have bumps. But there is no need to dress the bump and its surrounding personage from the inside of the washing machine – before it was turned on.
And finally, we have actor Ncuti Gatwa wearing Burc Akyol and Louboutin bootees.
Those trousers could best be described as ‘snug’ and WTF does not like the way that they are circling around the ankles looking for a place to land. But she would have been willing to let that go, were it not for the green ooze emanating from his waistband, as if Ncuti had mated with the Slime Monster.
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado WTF from Islington who has enough of the trendy buzzwords without meaning which are now de rigeur. The one driving WTF particularly bonkers at the moment is ‘curated’. ‘Curated’ holidays. ‘Curated’ experiences. She got invited to join a dining scheme with ‘curated rewards’. Not to mention menus boasting ‘curated’ cheese plates. It’s all complete bollocks.
Art exhibitions are curated. Holidays, experiences, rewards and cheese plates are assembled, hopefully for the delectation of the customer. Stop it. File it under ‘never again’ along with ‘being on a journey’, ‘community’ and ‘immersive’. And don’t let WTF catch you doing it again.…..
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please keep sending in your suggestions for It’s Got To Go and your top comments, which WTF likes more than anything. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x