2014 is the 100th anniversary of World War 1 and the 70th anniversary of the D-Day Landings when brave men and women laid down their lives for freedom. Last Friday, another series of battles took place across the United Kingdom when brave men and women fought almost to the death to get what they had come for, although in some cases they actually had no idea what the hell they had come for. It was a mighty campaign and one they will look back on with pride. As Henry V remarked at Agincourt
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap…
You get the picture. And what were our heroes and heroines doing? They were engaged in hand to hand combat in ASDA and Tesco in the Black Friday sales, determined to grab and then to hang onto a 40″ LED HD telly reduced by £150 or a pair of fuck-me-dead, mega-wow-wow, super-noise-reducing headphones reduced by £65. If that isn’t worth getting up at 2 am, queueing in the freezing cold for hours and then punching several strangers for daring to insert their still-thawing-out frame between you and the Samsung of your dreams, WTF doesn’t know what is. Half of them crawled home with frostbite, a black eye and a sprained ankle, carrying a piece of electrical equipment they probably cannot afford and do not need. “I got a Dyson but I don’t even know if I want it. I just picked it up,” Louise Haggerty, a 56-year-old hairdresser and waitress told The Guardian. She had been at Sainsbury’s in Haringey, North East London and recounted the story of a woman who had been second in the queue but who had been knocked out of the way by some feral oiks as the doors opened and had failed to get into the store in time to buy a bargain, not even an out-of-date Amstrad.
And this is WTF’s question. What the actual fuck? How desperate do you have to be to watch Keith Lemon in high definition that you would climb over a couple of pensioners and smack someone in the mouth? Do these pathetic, Godless people really have nothing else in their lives that they need to assault people in the name of a bargain? This is replacement ritual invented by American retailers to replace the festivals of Olde Englande. Did our band of brothers, those few, those happy few, go home and boast of their triumphs? Or (some hope) did they sit down to watch The Jeremy Kyle Show on their new acquisition with a creeping sense of shame? Because if they didn’t, they should have.
We turn to the week’s sartorial slag heap, starting with Julianne Moore wearing Givenchy at the Gotham Awards.
WTF loves Julianne who combines brains, beauty and talent but this is bad. First, the dress is something to be worn by a cross-dressing Roman Centurion. More offensive than the dress are the patchily-fake-tanned legs complete with foot blotch. Julianne has beautiful, pale skin to go with her gorgeous red hair. No one is supposed to have legs the colour of tangerines and certainly not her.
Never mind the 1001 nights, you could get 1001 people into those trousers and still find room for Ali Baba And Widow Twankey. As for the bandage, it doesn’t fit, it doesn’t flatter and it is an underboob moment waiting to happen.
Here is mega-model Alessandra Ambrosio at the Victoria’s Secret London Show after-party wearing Balmain.
This lattice-work Minge Moment is just terribly, terribly, terrible. The breasts are pushed up to her chin and it looks as if she is standing behind a large gate. She had better be careful or Andrew Mitchell MP will try and ride his bicycle through her.
It is legitimate to ask why Simon is using his scarf as a cock cloth – has his zip suffered a malfunction? The whole outfit is very Teddy Boy and the shoes look like spats stuck onto a large pair of bricks. He is hunched forward and should emulate George Osborne and Call Me Dave and go on their buddy diet. As for Yasmin, she is wearing layer upon layer upon layer of sheer fabric like Salome’s (beautiful) mum and those sparkling tits are just so wrong.
To the British Fashion Awards in London which were no advertisement for British Fashion. Some people were not even wearing British Fashion, which seemed a bit pointless, like going to an Arsenal Supporters Club party in a Tottenham shirt. Here is a mixture of Brit and non-Brit nastiness, starting with singer Ella Eyre wearing River Island.
River Island is High Street not Haute. High Street can be fab but this is not fab. Indeed, it is a long way north of fab. It might have helped had Ella taken two sizes up, worn something other than a sports bra and chosen a coat which did not resemble the remnants of an animal caught in a trap. And as for the badger’s bum hair….
Next up, we have Rihanna wearing Stella McCartney.
And then there was Rita Ora wearing Tom Ford. Who is American.
WTF hates bondage chic and this is bondage without the chic, all black lines in every direction like an art student trying to copy a Mondrian. WTF hopes to live long enough to see the day when Rita goes on the Red Carpet without dressing as a Las Vegas showgirl on the game.
Once again, @sairsebourke has raised an issue for It’s Got To Go which is perfectly expressed and needs no enhancement from me. Her topic is smears. Not the legs in stirrups variety or the political sort but the cheffy sort. I look at a menu offering something tasty with a purée of something or other and think “ooh posh mash, I’m hungry so I’ll go for that”. And what comes? A weeny bit of veg plonked on the plate and then spread like a skid mark on a pair of boxers discarded by the loo in your local Wetherspoons. Worst of all, it tends to dry out, so any foodie loveliness has evaporated. It is wanky and It’s Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep those top comments coming in as well as your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go and let us meet again next Friday. By the way, the winner of last week’s poll was Bai Ling with 46% of the vote. Bleona was second. Be good x