WTF Wagatha Christie Special

Hallo Readers,

WTF emerged from synagogue on Yom Kippur on Wednesday night to find a real treat awaiting her, a detective story to rival Wilkie Collins’ The Moonstone and Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. WTF speaks of the feud between two British WAGs, Colleen Rooney, wife of the priapic former Engerland captain Wayne Rooney, and her erstwhile pal, Rebekah Vardy, spouse of the hapless Leicester striker Jamie Vardy. It seems that Colleen had grown weary of finding her deepest secrets, which she had shared only with mates on a locked Instagram account, appearing in The Sun. She therefore set a trap by spreading fake news on the said account, but limiting the recipients (without their knowledge), finally deducing that the  Villanelle to her Eve was none other than Rebekah. This was disclosed, naturally, on social media, at which Rebekah, who is heavily pregnant, waxed most indignant and has called in M’Learned Friends and a forensic cybersecurity expert. As is now mandatory, she is receiving tons of abuse on Twitter, not to mention death threats, and the expressed hope that her unborn baby dies. All for (allegedly) disclosing that Colleen’s basement had flooded and other minutiae of Rooney family life.

Here’s the thing. Neither Wayne nor Jamie are what you would call heartthrobs, unless your heart throbs at the sight of men with faces like the sort of potatoes supermarkets reject as aesthetically displeasing. Nor were they likely to become Professors of Brain Surgery had they not been handy with their feet and heads. But both are richer than Croesus having won the pools. Whether either Colleen or Rebekah would have married their respective spouses had they been hod carriers, we will never know; but we do know that neither of these ladies would have been household names, even in their own households, had they not plighted their troth to these chaps. What is remarkable is not that Rebekah may or may not have traded her mate’s secrets for some publicity, or whatever, to The Sun, but that The Sun (and other newspapers) would choose to print such blockbuster exposés as the Rooneys seeking baby gender selection treatment in Mexico, Colleen’s planned return to television (kill me now), and a flood at her £20m, six bedroom, new-built mansion, which has been unkindly compared to a Morrison’s supermarket, nestling in forty Cheshire acres and featuring stables, two man-made fishing lakes and an orangery. Equally, as Brexit looms and Trumpy is letting his mate President Erdogan massacre our erstwhile allies, one would have thought that Colleen’s devastating detective work would not have been the main story on Thursday’s front page. But one would have thought wrong.

One would also have thought that it is a little late for Colleen to protect her privacy; this is the woman who flogged her wedding to OK!, and who is regularly photographed without her wedding ring following Mr Potato-Head’s latest alleged dalliance with someone or other, including, on occasion, ladies of the night. But, again it seems one would have thought wrong. This new revelation, which she chose to make public, rather than just suing Vardy or The Sun, will run and run, thereby exposing her to the very publicity she claims to dread. Meanwhile Rebekah, still on holiday in Dubai, has given a coruscating interview to The Daily Mail in which she denies everything and adds of her former friend, ‘It would be like arguing with a pigeon. You can tell it that you are right and it is wrong, but it’s still going to shit in your hair.’ The only answer is for Wayne Rooney and Jamie Vardy to fight for their wives’ honour in a public arena, like a scene from Camelot. Live on Pay-TV of course….



We start our review of the week’s crappy clothing in Atlanta at the Tyler Perry studios with American footballer Colin Kaepernick and his wife Nessa. Nessa looks lovely.

Which is more than you can say for Colin. What is that sash? Is he trying to emulate the Crown Prince of Ruritania? And why are  his trousers not on speaking terms with his ankles?

Here is model Abbey Clancy at the Naked Heart Foundation Fund Raiser wearing Aadnevik. 

Abbey recently gave birth to her third child, and has obviously been on a crash diet because she looks more gaunt than John of Gaunt looking gaunt. As for the dress, she seems to have taken the event name rather literally. If Miss Haversham went to a fancy dress party dressed as a melting icecap, this is what she would look like.

We pop into the Polo in Los Angeles, where we encounter show-off wannabe Megan Pormer, wearing Jaquemus.

Yes, it’s sunny, but surely she could done a bit better than a tablecloth on her head and an old fishing net, like a Pharaoh in giant panties.

Next up, we have actor Shia LaBoeuf, wearing Gucci and Louboutin Trapman boots (the boots cost $1,090).

Every few years, Fashion tries to tell us that chocolate brown is the new black, but no one believes them. This is why. With all that facial hair, Shia resembles a 1950s South American dictator about to nationalise the banks.

To a cornucopia of blatant bad taste, the BET Hip Hop Awards and rapper Rapsody.

Jewelled hair curlers are a new one to WTF and she is relieved to have reached such an advanced age without having ever encountered  them. You never saw Corrie’s Hilda Ogden in jewelled hair curlers. As for the track suit, it seems to be made from a psychedelic version of the stuff they use for insulating sleeping bags and picnic baskets.

And of course, long-term WTF favourite, rapper Lil’ Kim, wearing Gucci.

What on earth has happened to Gucci? It could hardly be more trashy. This is  more covered up than we usually get on Lil’ Kim, but it is still terribly, terribly, terrible, a slithery purple dressing gown with matching shingled hair and ridiculous shoes. And WTF will say it again – breasts are not supposed to start under the clavicles.

A newcomer to these pages, but WTF already loves him like a brother. Meet rapper DaBaby (né Jonathan Kirk), also wearing Gucci and a necklace the size of a chain saw with his surname hanging off it.

DaBaby looks as if he is about to do a soft shoe shuffle in a 1920’s speakeasy. With her hairstyle, Lil’Kim was probably in the audience.

This is rapper Kash Doll, wearing not enough.

Kash Doll is dressed as a titsy cheerleader with a double helping of tit and shr will be needing the Canesten….

And finally, we have reality star DreamDoll  ‘star’ of Love and Hip Hop – New York.

With the preponderance of leather here, one would have hoped that some more of it could have been found for the bra, which is leaking bosom in all directions. The rest of the outfit, not that it is one, is simply a selection of belts, like a sadomasochist’s mail-order catalogue.


This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Dr. Sundry Letters (@SalCross) who has brought this appalling item to our attention, a wedding outfit for those whshun convention. And propriety. And taste. And a wish to stay married.

 Sorry but what is occurring? This is up there with the Scrote Tote and the Cantaloupe Panties. Dr Sundry Letters expressed concern about the shin pads but, to be frank, WTF is a lot more concerned about the muff puff. If your intended is still at the altar by the time you get there in your bridal muff puff, you are either a lot luckier than you deserve to be, or there is something seriously wrong with him. It’s Got To Go.


OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Put a smile on WTF’s face by keeping those comments rolling in, as well as your splendid suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x





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WTF Truth Special

Hallo Readers,

WTF is so old that she remembers a time when politicians told you the truth. Or if they did not tell you the truth, and then were found not to have told you the truth, they had to go. Sometimes, they had to resign. But that was then, and this is now. And now, politicians lie to you, you know they are lying to you, and you don’t care if they are lying to you or not, because you voted for them, and so whatever they say is OK, even if it turns out to be bollocks, which it is always does. They may be liars, but they are your liars. And that is all that matters.

This week was a good example of the new double act of Dumb and Dumber, those lovable blond bombshells, Boris and Trumpy. As Betty Hutton and Howard Keel nearly sang in Annie Get your Gun, had the movie been set in the twenty-first century ‘Any lie you can tell, I can tell better, I can tell any lie better than you’. So when Dumb told us for years that there would be no need for customs checks at the border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland, that was not a  lie because the checks won’t be on the actual border, they will be down the road from the border, that is, if anyone can actually find the border, given that it winds about a bit, rather like Dumb himself. Never mind that the pound is plummeting after the Irish Government gave the plan the finger. Let’s Get Brexit Done! Let’s Brim with Confidence! 

At least he still appears to be in possession of his marbles, which is more than you can say for Dumber, who becomes more unhinged with every day that passes. Having roundly denied that he demanded Ukraine to dig up the dirt on former Vice President Joe Biden and his son Hunter, and accused the whistleblower who reported this as a ‘liar’, a ‘spy’, and someone guilty of ‘treason’ (even though his own record of the conversation showed him doing exactly that), he then stood on the South Lawn of the White House, eyes whirring more fiercely than the blades of his waiting helicopter, and demanded that Ukraine dig up the dirt on former Vice President Joe Biden and his son Hunter. And then suggested that President Yi of China should do the same. But then truth and Trumpy have long since parted company. The lies get bigger and bolder and more and more bizarre, and it seems that the GOP simply do not give a toss. 

There is at least one difference between Dumb and Dumber. Dumb knows he is lying, he just does not care. He never has. Dumber however is so far down the rabbit hole that he now believes that once it is out of his mouth, it has to be true, leaving it to his minions to explain away whatever he said, even though they can’t. And so we and our American cousins hurtle towards a future on the whim of two proven liars who don’t care what they say, or what they do, as long as they stay in power. Our only consolation this side of the Pond is that at least we didn’t actually elect Dumb…… 


We start our review of the week’s fashion flotsam with German actress Zazie Beetz at the premiere of  her new movie The Joker, wearing Christopher Kane.

Everywhere there is droopage, fussiness and threatened Minge Moments. It looks like a chainmail nightie. Even Joan of Arc didn’t wear a chainmail nightie and she was weird.

This is singer John Legend looking very, er, lavender.

Yikes! Those trousers can best be described as ‘snug’. Either John has the entire contents of his sock drawer down there, or he has volunteered  to carry his babies’ nappies around in his crotch to save wife Chrissy Teigen the trouble of schlepping them in a tote bag. Whichever it is, the results are unfortunate. The jacket is no better.

The rest of our sartorial selection come from Paris and Milan Fashion Weeks, starting in Paris with young actress Chloë Grace Moretz ,wearing Louis Vuitton.

Vuitton is becoming ever more ridiculous, particularly the floral shirt under the dirndl breastplate, like a flowery Grey Worm from Game of Thrones about to yomp into Port Stanley in big boots.

And talking of ridiculous, here is Louis Vuitton muse, actress Jennifer Connelly.

There is a lot going on here, and none of it good. That turquoise faux-velvet thing looks like the bed-jacket worn by the Big Bad Wolf when pretending to be an old granny. Jennifer may be smiling but you can see the pain behind her eyes.

Now we meet actor and model Patrick Schwarzenegger son of Arnie, wearing something truly horrible by Fenty Savage.

This is proof, were proof required, which it was not, that it does not matter how handsome you are and whether your dad is a superstar and your mum is member of the Kennedy clan. No one, not even anyone at all, can look good in raspberry velour, particularly when the trousers are in a Mexican standoff with their ankles. He looks like an embarrassed raspberry ice lolly.

And in news to nobody, here is Rita Ora, wearing not much.

There is side-boob and there is boob-boob. Guess which one this is? Hate the tattoos. Hate the boots. Hate the flash of panties. Hate the whole thing. Bigly.

Now we have rapper A$AP Rocky, fresh from his sojourn in a Swedish jail for beating the shit out of some Afghan migrant, and wearing Gucci.

There was WTF ranting on about John Legend’s snug trousers and here is A$AP wearing trewsies big enough to smuggle out the whole of C wing of the Stockholm Department of Corrections. The dropped crotch is unnerving. If Rocky went to a fancy dress party dressed as Annie Hall, this is what he would look like.

And finally, here is rapper Cardi B wearing Richard Quinn. Do not adjust your eyeballs…..

WTF does not mind a touch of floral, but there is verdant and there is nuts. And this is nuts, sort of Extinction Rebellion meets Mrs Doubtfire.


This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Yosra who sent in these ridiculous items courtesy of @benjancewicz. 

Underpants for your hands?  Why do your hands need underpants? They would be as much use as a chocolate teapot. What’s next? Bonnets for your knees? According to Amazon, which sells this dreck for £11 11, they have hundreds of uses. Like what? It doesn’t even bear thinking about. It’s Got To Go.


OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Put a smile on WTF’s face by keeping those comments rolling in, as well as your splendid suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x




Posted in Boris Johnson, Brexit, Celebrity, Celebrity Fashion Disasters, Donald Trump, Fashion, Fashion Awards, Fashion Disasters, Good Friday Agreement, Paris Fashion Week, Politics, Uncategorized, US Election, Worst Dressed Celebrities | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

WTF Eleven Lords and Ladies Leaping Special

Hallo Readers, 

This week eleven Supreme Court Justices told Boris Johnson where to put his prorogation of Parliament. The Court unanimously took the view that it had been done for an improper purpose, namely to avoid Parliamentary scrutiny, and that the prorogation was therefore null and void and had never happened. Johnson had submitted no witness statement in support his ridiculous story that this was all about needing time to write the Queen’s Speech, so at least he stopped short of committing perjury. It did not matter. His case was toast. And burnt toast at that.

When eleven Justices of the Supreme Court take the view that your case is what is known in legal circles as ‘bollocks’, one would expect the Prime Minister, particularly one who has banged on about regaining control of our laws, to affect some sort of apology and to acknowledge that his case had been given the judicial nostril. Not Johnson. Despite never having studied law, he felt able to disagree with the judgment. The fact that his disagreement is as useful as tits on a fish did not bother him at all. The Attorney-General, Brian Blessed sound-a-likey, Geoffrey Cox QC,  was similarly sanguine. Cox boomed away in the recalled House of Commons’ Chamber like a foghorn with pomposity issues. Three English Divisional Court Judges and one Scottish Judge had agreed with the Opinion he had given to the Government. That is as maybe, but eleven UK Supreme Court Justices and three Scottish Court of Session Judges had disagreed with it – making the score 14-4, which is not a victory, not even at all. It is akin to arguing that if you are ahead at half time, you are entitled to a point, even though you get thumped in the second half. As Brexiteers are wont to say, ‘you lost – get over it’.

Since assuming office in July, Johnson has had a nightmare and is beginning to resemble the character known as Two-and-Twenty Disasters  in Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard. He has lost eight votes in the House of Commons (that is eight out of eight – even Geoffrey Cox cannot argue with that one). He has lost the case in the Supreme Court, and the Queen had a very frosty phone call with him after judgment was handed down. He wants an election, but Corbyn will not agree to one until Brexit is postponed, so that Brits can vote Labour without knowing what Labour is going to do once they have voted Labour, an act of faith in a weary and cynical world. And now Johnson has been accused of cavorting with busty businesswoman Jennifer Acuri when he was Mayor of London, a young woman who entertained him in her London flat and, quite coincidentally, then got sponsorship money for her fledgling businesses, not to mention paid-for trips abroad to market her said businesses, and a grant for £100,000 for yet another new business only last year. Acuri explained that Johnson’s visits were because she was teaching him ‘technology’, giving a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘moving parts’. Is it any wonder that he is a trifle tetchy? His only remaining trick seems to be to ramp up the rhetoric (© Donald J. Trump), and rant about ‘surrender’ and ‘Parliament against the People’. Meanwhile MPs are getting death threats as a result of this language. On Thursday, Karl Turner MP saw Johnson’s ‘adviser’, Dominic Cummings, lounging against a pillar at Westminster and told him he had received a death threat overnight. The response? “Get Brexit done’. In other words, agree to what we’re doing, even though we don’t seem to be doing it, or it’s your fault. And this, apparently, is sovereignty and reclaiming our laws. Ye Gods.


We dip our toe into the poxy pool of fashion with singer Sam Smith wearing a fearfully frightful suit at the premiere of Judy, the movie about the late Judy Garland, .

There is more anatomical detail on view than Michelangelo’s statue of David, and were Sam to go back to the same tailor (but why would he?), he would be strongly advised to take a size up, if not two sizes. His satin shirt is slashed to the waist like an Italian gigolo trying to chat up ageing widows in Positano, and the shoes look like Pegasus’ hooves. If only the warbling Sam would really fly away…..

Next up, we have actress Cynthia Erivo wearing Mark Gong.

Cynthia turned up an at HBO premiere dressed in a shirtdress covered with feathers, like Mother Goose after a punch up with a pound of butter.

And now to Ivanka Trump displaying a great deal of VNA (visible nipple activity) at the United Nations in New York.

Yes, WTF loathes Nepotism Barbie with a passion, and yes, that hideous skirt with someone’s plait hanging off it is to be sick on. But HER NIPS SHOULD NOT BE SHOWING THROUGH HER SHIRT. She is at work. The woman is a multi-millionaire. Go to Bergdorf Goodman and buy a decent bra, woman. You are making a show of yourself. 

To Paris to see singer Rita Ora wearing Prada at the amFAR gala held during Paris Fashion Week.

Dear Lord. Rita has turned up dressed as a white dragon in some mythical medieval story. She also seems to have a blanched turd on her head.

Still in Paris, here is actor Ezra Miller wearing St Laurent.

More hairy chest, more horrible hooves, and a lot of dead animal. The World Wildlife Fund must be in mourning. As is the wardrobe mistress of the latest Jane Austen dramatisation from whom Ezra nicked that shirt. As for the makeup and the word slut on his cheek, WTF prefers not to speak of them.

Here we are in LA and the Emmys, and a couple of right stinkers. First, WTF regular actress Dascha Polanco wearing Christian Siriano.

Sam is not the only person this week who needs to take a size up. WTF is however more concerned with why Dascha is wearing her kiddies’ water wings….

And finally, actress Indya Moore wearing Louis Vuitton.

Da dah, da dah, MAJOR MINGE ALERT!!!!! WTF hates a crotch curtain almost above all things. One gust of wind on the Purple Carpet and it could have gone so horribly wrong. And you can see her tan lines. Rarely has anyone looked more miserable, and with very good reason…..


This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Rebecca Jay who sent in this revolting designer jeans jacket.


It comes from Nordstrom and costs £370. And you can buy matching jeans for another £370, and then you can check in to a mental health facility and sign over power of attorney to your loved ones, because there is no reason why any sane person would contemplate paying a fortune to look like they have rolled in pig-shit. It’s Got To Go.


OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Put a smile on WTF’s face by keeping those comments rolling in, as well as your splendid suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good.

Posted in amFAR, Boris Johnson, Brexit, Celebrity, Celebrity Fashion Disasters, Dominic Cummings, Emmys, Fashion, Fashion Awards, Fashion Disasters, Ivanka Trump, Jeremy Corbyn, Jo Cox, Paris Fashion Week, Politics, Queen's Speech, Uncategorized, Worst Dressed Celebrities | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

WTF Right Royal Rumble Special

Hallo Readers,

These are tough times to be Royal. Her Majesty the Queen is ninety-three years old. Her knees probably hurt (all that horse-riding) and she must have the odd aches and pains, like you do when you are a nonagenarian. Her husband is even older and likely becoming ever more irascible, and he was bad enough to start with. Her favourite son, the Duke of Pork, is a nogoodnik with some dodgy friends, one of whom, a notorious paedophile, killed himself recently, leaving the Duke facing all manner of allegations against him (which, of course, he denies). And her beloved country is tearing itself apart. All that is bad enough, but now her Prime Ministers, present and former, have dragged her into the political spotlight, a place she has done her best to avoid over nearly seven decades. Boris Johnson lied to her about his reasons for proroguing Parliament, and now eleven Lords in the Supreme Court are hearing various other Lords telling them how Johnson did or did not dupe her, which must be pretty galling, as the nation tunes in and watches the proceedings with the same intensity they watched those women curlers at the Olympics, i.e. it was fascinating and impenetrable. And now former Prime Minister David Cameron, looking more than Fred Flintstone than ever, has popped up to flog his memoirs, ‘Yes I Cocked It Up But Don’t Blame Me, Blame Everyone Else’ and has broken protocol by blabbing about he begged the Queen to say something nice about the Union to save him from losing the Scottish Independence Referendum in 2014. HMQ duly obliged, and now the Scots are in great indignation and running around like headless Celtic chickens. HMQ has let her displeasure at the wretched Cameron be known. She must be reflecting that Old Etonians are not what they used to be, and although Theresa May may have landed her with a State Visit from Mr Tangerine Man and the frightful Trump family, and cocked up Brexit, at least she knew how to behave. 

Meanwhile, even the Royal National Lifeboat Institute has copped it. The RNLI! Normally they are revered as brave chaps in sou’westers who risk life and limb in all weathers to rescue French trawler-men nicking our fish, and clueless tourists going out in dinghies in a Force Eight gale. Everyone loves the RNLI. Until this week, when some journalist ‘revealed’ that for every £1 donated to the charity, two pence go to saving Africans from drowning. Two pence! Most people would not bend and pick up a two pence coin if they saw it on the pavement, but the thought that a Royal Institute has secretly (not that it was secret, because it was on the bloody website) been shelling out two pence of every pound received on stopping little black kiddies going glug, glug, glug, was more than some patriotic Brits could stomach, and many cancelled their standing orders. This is what we have become. So hateful, so xenophobic, so insular, that trying to stop kids abroad from drowning is as heinous as Gina Miller trying to Stop the Will of the People. Welcome to Brexit Britain. 


We start our weekly review of the week’s wretched wear with actor Hugh Bonneville, aka Lord Grantham, at the premiere of Downton Abbey – The Movie.

Hugh is dressed as a grasshopper. Who knows why?

Next we are off to Rihanna’s Diamond Ball in New York, where we find singer songwriter Normani, wearing J’Aton.

Those are two of the most improbable tits WTF ever did see in her life. How many times does she have to say this? Tits are not globular. And they do not sit right beneath the clavicles. Added to that, WTF hates a one-armed dress almost above all things, and is unimpressed with the balance of skirt to train. In short – a stinker.

Also there was French fashion model Cindy Bruna, wearing Rami Kadi.

Cindy is ostentatiously leggy, but this is ridiculous. She looks like she is standing in the middle of a lettuce salad.

Now we meet a newcomer to these pages, and dressed like this, he will be back. WTF speaks of American actor Ben Platt. Here he is at the premiere of his new Netflix series The Politician, (also starring Gwyneth Paltrow, Jessica Lange and Lucy Boynton), wearing Bally. 

This horror can best be described as Sherlock Holmes turned bookie’s runner. That is a LOT of checks. Meanwhile, something very disturbing is happening around the crotch area.

Now we go to Fashion for Relief at London Fashion Week and supermodel Naomi Campbell, wearing Thierry Mugler.

That wig has got to go. No really, it has GOT to go. A lot of starving peasants in the Urals have flogged the hair off their heads just so Naomi can swan about with flowing tresses. As for the dress, if dress is the word, which is it not, not even at all, it is a Minge Moment waiting to happen, and only belly dancers should be flashing their bellybutton, and then only when at work.

She’s back! WTF speaks of presenter  Maya Jama wearing Hassidriss.

In the wake of the demise of her romance with singer Stormzy, Maya is intent on showing him what he is missing, but on this showing, he is probably glad he is missing it. If only the rest of us were so lucky. If a loincloth went to a fancy dress party as a latticework blueberry pie, this is what it would look like.  


Finally we have TV fashion guru Jonathan van Ness, wearing Christian Siriano.

Sigh. Look. This is not because it is a guy in a dress. With a beard. No, it is THIS dress, which is not so much a dress as a school uniform skirt worn as a dress with a stupid silk train. It needs a hoick upwards, because it looks as if it ready to start its slippage towards those hideous peekaboo tart’s trotters. 


This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado The Justified Sinner (@wringhim) who sent in these foul narrow and flared trousers. And I mean foul. As in dogs fouling the pavement, foul. If not fouler.

These hellish articles are by Knesia Schnaidere and cost a preposterous £360. Go and sort your schizophrenia somewhere else please, love. It’s Got to Go.


OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Put a smile on WTF’s face by keeping those comments rolling in, as well as your splendid suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good

Posted in Boris Johnson, Brexit, Celebrity, Celebrity Fashion Disasters, David Cameron, Donald Trump, Fashion, Fashion Disasters, Jacob Rees-Mogg, London Fashion Week, Royal Family, Royal National Lifeboat Institute, Theresa May, Uncategorized, Worst Dressed Celebrities | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

WTF Bears Defecate in Areas Full Of Trees Special

Hallo Readers,

This week brought news so shocking that Britain will never be the same again. Counselling is being offered to those affected. Black arm bands are being worn.  It turns out that our Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, lied to none other than Her Majesty the Queen. Three Caledonian Appeal Judges took the view that in telling the Head of State that Parliament needed to be prorogued to allow for the Queens speech, when in reality he was doing it to avoid scrutiny of his handling, if that is the right word, which it manifestly is not, of Brexit, whether with a deal or without, power had been exercised for an improper purpose. The Courts do not tend to judge whether a political decision is a good idea or a bad idea – but they are entitled to intervene if the exercise of that power is undermining the democratic process. In this, the Court of Session differed from their English legal brethren, who had taken the view that Johnsons political shenanigans were not the business of the judiciary. And so the Supreme Court will wheel out its finest English, Scottish, Welsh and Northern Irish Justices on Tuesday to decide the matter. Stand by for the usual onslaught from the popular press about Oxbridge toffs, and snobs who like French cheese, a good Burgundy, and holidays in Tuscany. Remoaners the lot of them…..

Of course, Johnsons penchant for telling porky pies is more a case of do bears shit in the woods rather than man bites dog. It runs through him like a stick of Brighton Rock. He has lied to his wives, his editors and his party leader. He told the British People that if we left the EU, there would be £350 million a week to lavish on the NHS. Frankly, it would have been more of a shock had he told Her Majesty the truth. Everyone knew what he was doing and why he was doing it  – indeed, Leavers were hopping around with undisguised glee at his cunning, as if suffering from advanced St Vituss Dance. Our Queen may not have gone to university, and she may have produced four children with the collective IQ of a root vegetable, but she is no fool. She knew exactly what Johnson was playing at, but having kept the Monarchy on track all this time, she was not, at the age of 93, about to embark on a new practice of provoking a constitutional crisis. Nor did she need to, because  Johnson, aided and abetted by his henchman, the dreadful little Moggy, and the rebarbative Dominic Cummings, is more than capable of provoking one himself. 

Her Majesty’s ancestor, Queen Elizabeth I, would have been less forgiving of such insolence. Johnson would have been hanged, drawn and quartered, his goolies separated from his person, and his innards removed and put on public display to show the proles what happens when a citizen is minded to get arsey. Now when you screw up and let your Sovereign down, you get to go to the House of Lords, should you so wish, and dole out peerages like sweeties to your equally failed friends, where they are rewarded for making a total ballsup with a nice £300 a day for attending the House of Lords and a slap-up lunch…..


We start our review of the weeks sartorial slurry with actress Shailene Woodley wearing Louis Vuitton.

Oh dear. Oh very dear. Superwoman goes skateboarding. And did LV run out of time before they could finish the bodice?

We are off to Toronto for the Film Festival, and the premiere of some new rubbish called Hustlers starring, amongst others, JLo. Here she is wearing Maison Yeya and a new blonde bob.

If Big Bird from Sesame Street went to a film premiere in a ball gown and sexy sandals, and got run over en route, this is what he would look like.

And this is JLOs co-star Constance Wu ,wearing Georges Hobeika.

Georges Hobeika, why have you put poor Constance into this teeny-weeny imminent Minge Moment with a massive bow? And why did you not take all that fabric for the bow and make it into a skirt?

Actor Ansel Elgort was out and about in New York City, looking like a knob.

Those are not proper trousers. There is no fly. These are toddler trousers….

Next to the DKNY bash at New York Fashion Week, where we find singer Halsey wearing DKNY.

If there is one thing WTF hates almost above all things, it is a crotch curtain. There also appears to be some skimpage around the chest. Appalled onlookers were left worrying which bit or bits of Halsey, tattooed or otherwise, they would suddenly be eyeballing.

And now two stinkers at the Harpers Bazaar Icons party. First, actress Lily Collins wearing Georges Hobeika,].

Oh Lord. It isn’t even a nice colour – a mulch-hued leotard under a beaded fly curtain. Kill me now.

And also there was actress Dascha Polanco wearing Bronx and Banco.

WTF is beginning to think that Dascha is doing this on purpose. How terrible is this? It is like the Sandeman Port chap gone pervy.

Ah! Lil Kim. Bless her.

Lil Kim is dressed as a bale of hay in ripped boots and a bondage belt. The whole thing is weirder than weird, most notably because Lil Kims head appears to have no relation to the bale of hay. Is she standing behind it?


This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Sumarumi from Wales who has directed us to these alleged trousers from Pretty Little Thing.

First of all these are not trousers – she is just wrapped in cling film like an item ready for to be popped into the freezer. Second, if there is a more unflattering garment ever in the history of ever, WTF is glad she missed it. And it seems to be an ensemble with a matching cling film jacket. Hideous, and then some. It’s Got to Go.


OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Put a smile on WTF’s face by keeping those comments rolling in, as well as your splendid suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Posted in Boris Johnson, Brexit, Celebrity, Celebrity Fashion Disasters, Dominic Cummings, Harper's Bazaar ICONS, Jacob Rees-Mogg, Queen's Speech, Uncategorized, Worst Dressed Celebrities | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

WTF Cain and Abel Special

Hallo Readers,

And so here we are back again on the roller coaster that is the Brexit Big Dipper. You will need a head for heights and a strong stomach. One minute you are soaring towards the top of the wheel with the common people down below cheering your valour and your political nous. The next minute, you are plummeting back down to earth like Harry Kane in the penalty box, your insides now coating your outsides, and the rude citizenry giving you the bird. It is like a funfair – only without the fun. Roll up, roll up, roll up.

Last week, Boris Johnson was cock of the walk, with the emphasis on cock. Everyone praised his cunning plan to prorogue Parliament, stymying debate on Brexit and scrutiny of any new deal, not that there is a New Deal, or that there will a New Deal. The New Deal is the Emperor has no clothes on, and it is flashing its naked arse. Leavers wallowed in the discomfort of the Remainers. But then the wheel started on its downwards trajectory, and suddenly the heroes were zeros. Outraged Tories went all Sydney Carton and sacrificed their political careers rather than acquiesce with this chicanery. One Tory actually crossed the floor during Johnson’s speech in the debate, taking Johnson’s majority with him. Even the threat of losing the whip and their right to stand as Tories, did not stop 21 MPs, former Chancellors, and Ministers, and eminent backbenchers, and people who themselves had challenged for the Leadership only a few golden summery weeks ago, defying orders and voting to take control of the timetable, at which point they were expelled quicker than someone’s lunch on descending the aforesaid Big Dipper. That in turn prompted other  departures, including Johnson’s own brother, Jo, the brother that got the sense of decency and the common sense. When your own brother decides that your political tactics are so unsavoury that he can neither stay as a Minister in your government, nor as an MP supporting your government, things are taking a decided turn for the worse.

After Cain had murdered his brother Abel, God asked him where his brother was. Cain answered, “I know not; am I my brother’s keeper?”  Jo has not only declined to be his brother’s keeper, he has checked out of the zoo, leaving Johnson floundering and incoherent on a trip to Leeds designed to rally the faithful. It took a heart of stone not to laugh.

The only consolation in all of this has been the exposure of the loathsome Jacob Rees-Mogg as just another arrogant posh boy. The charming Old Etonian manners melted away as the new Leader of the House insulted everyone, including the people he was supposed to keep on board, lolled across three benches like a Roman Emperor visiting the vomitorium, and wound up a bad week by comparing a respected doctor, who had warned that a no-deal Brexit would leave the country without much needed medicines, to another, but discredited, doctor who had been struck off for fear-mongering. The outrage of the medical world poured forth upon the little twerp, and quite right too. Let us that hope that Johnson and Moggy, the Dumb and Dumber of current politics, maintain one of the shortest  government partnerships in recorded history. May it come soon. Amen.


We start the review of the fashionable flotsam of the week with singer Leigh Anne Pinnock wearing Ana Ljubinkovic.


There is a lot going on here and none of it good, a cacophony of lace and bows and latticework like something out of a Restoration comedy.


Here is actor Timothee Chalamet wearing Haider Ackermann. 

There is directional and there is daft. The only direction this should be is going in is downwards and into the bin. In particular, the trousers rolled up like a french beige Freemason are to be deplored.


Here is #NepotismBarbie, aka the appalling Ivanka Trump, who continues to impersonate a political adviser. This week she was in Colombia wearing Colombian designer Silvia Tcherassi. The gentleman next to her is the Deputy US Secretary of State.

#NepotismBarbie thought it would be appropriate to visit Venezuelan migrants, who have fled to Colombia with nothing but the clothes they stood up in, wearing an $1,800 dress and circulation-stopping sandals. The dress, which is horribly ugly, resembles an old burlap sack, hand painted by depressed children as part of an art therapy course.

To the GQ Awards in London and TV presenter Maya Jama wearing Labourjoisie. And no knickers.

Sigh. WTF cannot even be bothered to bring you the sight of the Jama buttocks, exposed beneath a shimmering condom. Apparently her ex-boyfriend was also present at the bash, and so the tabloid law of failed relationships dictates that she must have been showing him what he was missing. Or maybe she was just flashing her buttocks. WTF is voting for option B.

Also there was singer Rita Ora wearing Maticevski.

WTF does not mix in such exalted circles, and therefore can only wonder whether the invitation specified that women will be admitted only if they are baring various parts of their anatomy. Not that Rita is usually dressed any other way. 

To the Venice Film Festival and French actress Adele Exarchopoulos, wearing Jacquemus.

If a flamingo entered the Tour de France, this is what it would look like.

Still in Venice, we conclude with Italian actress Francesca Guiliano, wearing an old net curtain.

Francesca has a magnificent embonpoint but one fears that her bosoms about to makes their escape from the confines of their lacy prison and make a dash for the lagoon, where a gondola await to row them to freedom.  WTF has also taken against the furry bits around the shoulders, like the tufts of dog hair on the floor of a pet parlour.



This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Yvonne from the Borders  who has directed us to these revolting trousers and matching top from ASOS.

For reasons you will readily understand, they have been nicknamed Poopy Pants and they look like shit, something Bobby Sands wore during the 1970s Dirty Protests in Belfast prisons during the Troubles. Yikes. It’s Got to Go.


OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Put a smile on WTF’s face by keeping those comments rolling in, as well as your splendid suggestions for It’s Got To Go. WTF will be back next Friday. Be good x



Posted in Boris Johnson, Brexit, Fashion, Fashion Disasters, GLAAD, GQ men of the Year Awards, Politics, Uncategorized, Venice Film Festival, Worst Dressed Celebrities | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

WTF Anything Could Happen Special

Hallo Readers, 

Do you remember when Boris Johnson spoke at various Tory Party Leadership Election Hustings and said that the chance of a no-deal Brexit was a million to one against? WTF does – it was on 26 June 2019. Then Johnson took office. By 14 August, a no-deal Brexit had become ‘more likely’.  Thank goodness he doesn’t run a casino – his business would have gone belly-up, just like that of his mentor Donald J Trump, who managed to lose money on not one, not two, but three, Atlantic City casinos in the 1990s and put each of those businesses into bankruptcy.

This week, the chances of a no-deal Brexit are looking extremely very likely and then some. Johnson and his side-kick, Dominic Cummings, came up with a plan to stop Parliament stopping  them – they announced that Parliament would be prorogued on 9 September, only days after it comes back from its summer holidays on 3 September. It will then reassemble on 14 October, leaving just over a fortnight for MPs to debate the Queen’s speech that no one gives a stuff about and to debate the new deal that Johnson says he can get from the EU, which he can’t, and probably doesn’t believe he can anyway. Even if he does get one, if it is no better than the Theresa May deals, who will vote for it? So out we go on 31 October with no deal. Which is what some, if not most, of his Cabinet wanted all along.

Of course there might be vote of no confidence. If the Government lose, there could be an election, and Jeremy Corbyn might win it, under a coalition of odds and sods various. So the person who in 2016, and for decades beforehand, probably wanted Brexit more than either May (who voted against it) or Johnson (who only decided to back Brexit on what seems to have been the toss of a coin and an eye on the main chance), might end up as Prime Minister to stop a Government that wanted Brexit. The people who wanted Brexit to reclaim our Parliamentary sovereignty are cheering loudly for the voice of Parliament to be silenced. And the ones who went on and on about how Europe wanted us more than we wanted them, and how we would be given a cracking deal, are now busy pretending that they always knew it would be this bad, and that they voted in the full knowledge that this would happen, even though they attacked every one who said it would be this bad as pedalling Project Fear.

So that is clear, right?. We might be leaving with a deal. We might be leaving without a deal. We might have Johnson ushering in the new dawn. We might have Jeremy Corbyn ushering in the new dawn. We might have some other bugger ushering in the new dawn, There might not be a dawn. Meanwhile, anyone worried about getting their flu vaccine this Autumn – whoops. That might be a problem because we do not have enough vaccine in stock, and the rest will be sitting on lorries outside Calais in a 100 km queue.  And if you are waiting for that promised US Trade Deal Trump was waffling on about at the G7- you might have to wait even longer than for your flu jab. These things take time to negotiate, and then the US Congress has to pass it – which it has said it will not unless there is provision for the Irish border issue is resolved. It may be a while before you can tuck in to your US chlorinated chicken, which might make you sick, in which case you can go to the newly privatised, Trump-owned NHS and have your stomach pumped. It will be worth the wait…..


We survey the weekly fashion flotsam with the clothing on show at the MTV Video Music Awards in Newark, New Jersey, where sartorial horror abounded. We start with singer Camila Cabello wearing Balmain.

Balmain? Really? This thing is just a peekaboo bed sheet and WTF is always worried when there is more train than dress. Not that this is a dress.

Next up, we have model Bella Hadid, wearing Charlotte Knowles.

This is more a case of Charlotte No!!!!! – a boobtube and ruched slip with braces (or suspenders, as our American friends would call them). WTF has a number of objections to this apparel, not least that it is uglier than a very ugly dog. And WTF has also taken against Bella’s pout, which makes her look like a duck pretending to be Melania Trump.

Of course, former model Heidi Klum was there. She is always at these things, and always wearing something silly.  In this case, it is by Nedo.

It looks like a sparkly bin bag with Dynasty-style shoulders and a crotch curtain. Heidi should remove the dress and line the dustbin with it. And then put her stylist’s contract into the trash and get a new stylist.

Here is one of WTF’s favourites, rapper and Law and Order – Special Victims Unit actor Ice-T, and his fragrant wife, glamour model, cabaret artiste and Internet personality Coco Austin. She is wearing not a lot, whilst he is wearing Versace.

Regular Readers will know that WTF is a huge fan of SVU, where Ice-T plays Fin Tutuola, the grumpy cop with a heart of gold. He and the pneumatic Coco have been married for 17 years and they still seem happy. However WTF is not happy with Coco’s dress, because she might have as well have doodled on herself in her tiny thong and not bothered with anything else.

Meet singer Ava Max, wearing Kalmin.

If the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz went to a fancy dress party dressed as Superwoman in a truss, this is what he would look like.

Here is actress Drea de Matteo with her kiddies Alabama and Waylon. Drea is wearing a dress by The Paper Bag Princess.

Alabama is 11 years old and has no business dressing as Mummy’s mini-me, and Ice-T should revert to being Fin Tutuola and arrest Mummy forthwith for child cruelty.  And if that wont stick, to arrest her for wearing a stupid dress and flashing her knickers in public.

Back again! It’s singer Bebe Rexha wearing Christian Siriano.

Readers, we have now hit a really rough patch – what follows are assorted body parts on display under what are laughingly supposed to be clothes. Bebe here is flashing her bottom through what appears to be a silver cake doily.

And this is Prince Derek Doll. No, WTF doesn’t know who the hell he is either.

This is the sort of peekaboo, no-knickers, thing that one of the terrible Kardashian sisters would wear. Now men have started doing it too, which is to be deplored. And he seems to have some sort of giant bird on his shoulders. Kill me now.

This one is even worse. Bringing up the rear, quite literally, we have the star of Love and Hip Hop: Miami Bobby Lytes wearing That Trendy Guy. Careful now.

This is the male no-knickers look, worn under a yellow version of Bebe’s cake doily. And what follows is not good either. In fact it is very very bad.

He is flashing his buttocks in a sheer panel inserted into the cake doily, like a pervy cowboy in chaps taking parts as a contestant in a Wild West Bakeoff. You never saw John Wayne dressed like this. Yurgle.


The winner of the Worst of the Worst Poll was …….. Bobby Norris in his 2014 version of the cock-sock. Go and look at last week’s blog to see it in all his horror. You have seen enough male bits for one week in this one.. 

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


Posted in Alabama, Boris Johnson, Brexit, Celebrity, Celebrity Fashion Disasters, Donald Trump, Uncategorized, VMAs 2019, Worst Dressed Celebrities | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
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