Hallo Readers,

Congratulations President Obama. Woolly liberals like WTF and her buddies had great hopes for you and we’re still waiting to be wowed. So get on with it. Of course, others are dismayed by your success. Comb-over buffoon Donald Trump is one of them. Donald has the hump with the whole US democratic system and thinks it is wrong that someone who gets more of the public vote and more of the electoral college gets to win. It isn’t American. Or Obama isn’t American. Or something. This is more evidence that the UK and the US speak quite a different language. In the UK we say “prat”. In the US they say “Donald Trump”.

Back in the UK, the level of political excitement has been somewhat lower key. The highlight of the week was ghastly Tory MP Nadine Dorries. Nadine has abandoned her constitutents of Mid Bedfordshire (think middle of nowhere, then turn left and keep going) for a whole month and has flown off to Australia to take part in the inaptly named TV blockbuster “I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out of Here“, which kicks off this weekend. Nadine got off the plane in an eye-wateringly bright dress, designer sunnies, sparkly stilettos and lots of luggage just like a real celebrity! Only the thing is, poppet, you’re not a celebrity, you’re an MP and public servant.

 The programme, which is rubbish, features a think tank of no-marks, never-weres and has-beens who live together in the jungle, sitting around the campfire talking bollocks  and performing “bushtucker trials”  such as munching on a kangaroo testicle (not attached to the kangaroo, you understand, although they could always go for that option if the ratings start to slip) and wrestling with tropical beasties various. Nadine, 55, has already been snapped sunbathing by the hotel pool in a horrible yellow cossie and showing rather of lot of tit.  Mind you, she will still be paid her £6,000 a month Parliamentary salary on top of her £40,000 appearance fee. If Mrs X from Flitwick is being harassed by her neighbours or Mr Y from Woburn’s hip replacement has been cancelled for the 23rd time and want their MP to intervene on their behalf, tough. To see her, they’ll have to turn on the telly. Nadine maintains that she will be engaging with 10 million people who tune in and that she can plug, I mean advance, her crusade to lower the abortion limit to 20 weeks. WTF is sure that the level of debate between Nadine, big-mouth boxer David Haye, former Darts champion Eric Bristow (aka the Crafty Cockney) and a gaggle of soap stars and glamour models flaunting their bikini bodies will prove to be the intellectual equivalent of High Table at All Souls College, Oxford.

Our Z Lister of the week makes Jordan look like Her Holiness the Duchess of Cambridge. Meet The Only Way Is Essex’s Chloe Sims. She used to be a pole dancer, and it appears that sartorially speaking, old habits die hard. 

 Actually you just want to weep. This girl, a single mum, is so lacking in taste, self respect and common sense that she is prepared to leave the house looking like a drag queen and that is an insult to drag queens. Where to start? The hair extensions? The satsuma tan? The teeth veneers like marble tombstones? The worst fake tits in the history of fake tits? The bootees squishing her toes? The leotard and feathers? She looks like the Christmas turkey. Nor can Chloe be said to be a bright girl, having an IQ one up from a root vegetable (she confessed on TV that she had only just realised that the sun and the moon were not the same thing). And do you want to know the really, really scary news? SHE HAS HER OWN CLOTHING LINE!!!!!!!!!! Check it out on  www.starshipboutique.com  Every single piece on sale is nasty, including the best selling leatherette leggings, yours for only £35. You’d be safer going shopping during a blackout.

We haven’t had an edition of Designers Who Need to See A Doctor recently and WTF is thrilled to introduce you to this gruesome twosome, Sarah-Jane Clarke and Heidi Middleton of Sass & Bide.

 So here we have Admiral Nelson in a gingham skirt and a bustier (note to Sarah-Jane – you need a bust to put in a bustier) and holding hands with an apple-cheeked Annie Lennox look-a-likey wearing trousers designed for one of the Harlem Globetrotters, a surgical corset and a fishing net fastened with a gardenia. Ummm….OK….

Welcome to this week’s edition of “The Emperor’s New Clothes” featuring two pieces of nonsense. First, the deadly combination of Victoria’s Secret model Izabel Goulart and WTF bugbear Anthony Vaccarello.

Anthony is incapable of designing a dress that doesn’t bare masses of flesh but at least this one doesn’t give us an imminent minge moment, for which relief much thanks. It is a novel notion to cut up pieces of foil giftwrap into squares to make a bra (we saw Miley Cyrus in a similar bralet thing two weeks ago) and then wrap the wearer in the rest of it. The dress just screams TACKY!!! If even Izabel can’t look good in this, then it’s a designer dud. End of.

To Rita Ora wearing Alexander McQueen.

Rita looks just like a little girl at her own birthday party, only with a lot more makeup and bad roots. As for her paint-splattered tutu thingie, it seems to be wearing its own Alex-Reid-as-Roxanne wig. On the catwalk, the netting on the bodice was erect like a Flamenco fan but here it seems to have suffered a sad case of detumescence. It needs some of this:

Or maybe some of this:

Now this is really rank. Meet singer Delilah at the MOBO (Music of Black Origin) Awards.

Who knows why Delilah has chosen to appear in public dressed as a Madame in a Mermaid Brothel.  And the view isn’t any better from the back…

It’s an S&M truss worn under a zipped sleeping bag.  Gosh, it’s awful.  As Tom Jones sang so presciently “why, why, why, Delilah?”

OMG. No honestly, OMG and then some. Here is Steven Tyler looking even more ridiculous than usual.

Ah, good old Steve. He never disappoints but this is wonderful, part Regency buck (the ruffles, waistcoat and hair), part Daniel Day Lewis in Last of the Mohicans (the trousers), part Dr. Who (the coat), part old codger (the slippers). WTF is particularly fascinated by the very busy trousers. There is the very alarming codpiece – either that or he needs to see a doctor, stat. There is the lacing. And there are the perforations, as if someone has run amok with a holepunch. Is that a doorknob in his left hand? Is the codpiece really a doorknob holder?  Did he trash his hotel room before leaving and forget to leave the doorknob?  Why is he wearing leopardskin slippers? Is WTF going mad? Answers to all of the above on a postcard please. Or you could just press the Comment button.