Hallo Readers,

This week saw another chapter in the saga of the ex-Cabinet Minister, his Economist Ex-Wife and one of Britain’s first black judges, all of whom were incarcerated for perverting the course of justice. Chris Huhne, a sneering, supercilious little man, joined the Cabinet in May 2010 after an election campaign with brochures full of pictures of him and his wife of 24 years, Government economist Vicky Pryce, in which he extolled the joys of family life. Weeks later, he ditched her for his bi-sexual PR adviser. Pryce then plotted vengeance with her pal, barrister and part-time Judge Constance Briscoe, herself a dumpee after her partner, a 75 year old QC, had done a runner with a 27 year old trainee in his Chambers. I mean, you couldn’t make this stuff up. The women hatched a plot to shop Huhne to the Press for having pressurised his secretary into taking his penalty points for speeding in 2003. Only it wasn’t his secretary (who didn’t drive) it was Pryce. The plot unravelled, the cops came to call and Briscoe, purporting to be an impartial witness, told them that Pryce had confessed all in 2003 and this was not now invented out of spite. Huhne and Pryce were charged with Huhne vehemently protesting his innocence. However, at the trial he pleaded guilty. Pryce ran a fatuous defence of matrimonial coercion but was found guilty. In March 2013 they both got 8 months, served 2 and have popped up everywhere ever since trading on their notoriety. Last week it was Briscoe’s turn. She was found guilty of lying to the Police, falsifying documents and attempting to pervert the course of justice and got 16 months on the basis that judges, even part time ones, should not be telling porkies and forging stuff as they were supposed to know better. In short, everyone lied their heads off and deserved everything they got. 

Huhne however sees it differently. On Monday he snivelled on in The Guardian that he would never have been prosecuted but for Briscoe’s original lie about the contemporaneous complaint in 2003. Without it, he said, the police would have seen this is a domestic spat and left well alone. He was aggrieved that she did not stand trial for that lie as it would have involved calling Pryce to testify, which would not have worked since Pryce had also been found to be a liar. He, on the other hand, had only lied about being innocent because Briscoe had lied which entitled him to brazen it out whilst trying to prove she was a liar.  Similarly, he is challenging the order to pay £110,ooo for prosecution costs because he claims he spent ages trying to show Briscoe was a liar and should have to pay only £20,000 with Tilly and Tommy Tosser, the taxpayers, forking out the rest. In other words, he was a liar but he should not have been charged on the word of another liar even though he was in fact guilty. This man once held high office and presumed to lecture the rest of us on how to behave. WTF would like to shove his purported justification up where the sun don’t shine with a hot poker. As Prime Minister Clement Attlee once remarked, “a period of silence on your part would be welcome”. In Huhne’s case, an indefinite period. Just go away.

We now go to the Met Gala, the fashion event of the year and kick off with Broadway star Neil Patrick Harris and his partner, actor David Burtka, both wearing Thom Browne.

The trousers flirt with the ankles, there are brogues without socks, full-length tailcoats with no tails on them and cummerbunds like straitjackets. They just look very silly.  Thom Browne – stop it.

And now we have a succession of shockers by Prada, starting with Margot Robbie.

A bra with visible straps like an Essex barmaid, a see-through top complete with a dog ruff, a skirt made from plastic tiles and bridesmaid shoes. Ugh.

The next victim is Gabrielle Union.

Like a dead ostrich with mirror tiles in a bralet and sandals. Just. Very. Bad.

And then young Brie Larson. 

No, WTF doesn’t know what this is either. The top seems to be decorated with anchovies and the mini-turd hairstyle is the pits.

Lupita Nyong’o had not put a foot wrong on the Red Carpet. That is, until she stepped out in this monstrosity. 

Like a flapper wearing the remnants of a bird cage blown apart by Jack Bauer from 24 when trying to rescue some parrots carrying a microchip with the codewords to stop world domination by loonies various. As for the shoes and headband, WTF prefers not to speak of them. 

And finally, Elizabeth Olsen wearing Miu Miu, Prada’s secondary line.

It must have been a chilly night in New York because Elizabeth’s nipples are more prominent that the wheel nuts on a Scammell Truck. As well as being event-inappropriate, the dress is puckered and the only illusion about the illusion panel is the designer thinking that no one can see it.

This is singer Erykah Badu wearing Givenchy Couture.

What did Erykah do to provoke Riccardo Tisci into putting her into that hat? Even Pharrell Williams would scoff at it. It reminds one of ken Dodd and the Diddymen. Meanwhile, the coat and trousers are lovely but those earrings the size of saucers have to got to go.

We now come upon Maggie Gyllenhaal wearing Valentino Couture.

Valentino appears to have recycled some garish 1970’s furnishing fabric and it is giving WTF a headache. Ghastly. 

Here are Johnny Depp wearing Ralph Lauren Purple Label and fiancée Amber Heard wearing Giambattista Valli.

Amber looks OK but what has happened to Johnny? He resembles nothing so much as Fred Astaire’s elderly, partially-sighted uncle.

Chanel also had a bad night. First there is actress Chloe Moretz.

Little House on the Prairie meets a loo roll holder. Eek.

And then there is Kristen Stewart.

More plumage. The World Wildlife Fund must be in uproar. WTF has never cared for Kristen and the dress is ugly. Which, on any view, is a drawback.

Now we have model turned actress Kate Upton wearing Dolce & Gabbana.

Kate is dressed like a saucy Edwardian widow. And what is that thing on her head?

Also clad in bits of dead creatures is Naomi Watts wearing Givenchy Haute Couture. 

Haute couture? Stitching the scales from a diseased salmon onto chiffon is haute couture? Really? WTF particularly dislikes the crotch circle, which is just  offensive.

And of course here is Rita Ora wearing Atelier Donna Karan and Casedei boots.

The Sugar Plum Fairy Does Bondage. Horrible.

Here we have chef Sandra Lee (also the partner of the Governor of New York Andrew Cuomo) wearing a dress custom made by Dara Lamb.

That skirt is as wide as Central Park. How did Sandra get in and out of her car? Why is so bridal? And why does it have giant inflated meat-and-two-veg silk genitalia? In short, what the hell is going on?

If you wondered what had become of Katie Holmes, formerly Mrs Tom Cruise, here she is wearing Marchesa.

Like Scarlett O’Hara swimming in a sea of custard, only this Scarlett has  encrustations stuck to her bodice and someone at Tara forgot to pack both a hairbrush and an iron.

Rihanna looked great on the Red Carpet wearing Stella McCartney but then went to the after-party wearing this by the same designer.

Both the fabric and Rihanna are lovely but why the butt crack? It is bad enough to have to put up with builders exposing theirs on public thoroughfares as they go about their business. Rihanna – put it away, pet.

But Readers, bad as these were, two dresses at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner were worse. WTF Summer Stinker worse. First, actress Rose MacGowan  wearing Ulyana Sergeenko.

As @yvonneridley remarked, this is like when you cannot do up the zipper of your dress and so you are obliged to twist the whole thing round in order to have a better go at it. And then you cannot twist it back again. There is too much tit and thigh for any occasion, let alone this one. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Wronger still, meet Olympic Gold Medallist snowboarder Jamie Anderson. The designer of this dress has had Face Off-style surgery and has buggered off to Bogota under an assumed name. Good call.

This is the most unflattering dress ever in the history of ever, clinging where it should not cling and gaping where it should not gape whilst exposing tit- tape which was patently not up to the task. The built-in minge curtain is creased and fails to hide chunky thighs. She looks like an uncooked sausage in a belt.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep the comments coming in and your suggestions for It’s Got To Go (for which there was no room this week) and let us meet again next Friday. Be good x