Last week, WTF excoriated slimeball Grant Shapps, Chairman of the Conservative Party, for not telling the truth about his business affairs and then threatening his constituent with a libel suit for pointing it out. Anya Palmer (@anyabike), who has been on Shapps’ case for years, disseminated the final paragraph of WTF’s indignation and asked “Why aren’t mainstream columnists not queuing up to say this?” . Which is a pertinent question and admits of no sensible answer save that mainstream columnists are so inured to politicians being economical with the truth that they no longer deem it to be newsworthy. Anya’s question was retweeted all week but Shapps continues in post with Cameron’s full backing. And this week we met another man with a warped view of the truth. Step forward Afzal Amin, the former prospective Conservative Parliamentary candidate for Dudley North. Those of you who have never been to Dudley, don’t worry that you’ve missed something special. You haven’t. Be that howsoever it may be, Amin decided that the best way to win this highly marginal seat (Labour majority: 600) was to do a deal with the far-right English Defence League and its then leader, former jailbird Tommy Robinson. The EDL would announce a march in protest against a new mosque to be built in the centre of Dudley. Amin then would step in, “persuade” them to call off a march that was never going to happen and attribute his triumph to the mediation skills learned as an army officer in Afghanistan. This triumph of mendacity, an act of political Munchhausen’s By Proxy, was stymied when Robinson, displaying core Conservative values of chicanery, commercial nous and collecting cash of which Amin would surely approve, flogged a tape of their deal to the Mail on Sunday. Amin tried to brazen it out but within 36 hours he had “resigned” from the Party and disappeared back into obscurity. Had he not stepped down, however, he would have faced a disciplinary procedure conducted by….Grant Shapps, which would be like Reggie Kray chairing an investigation into Ronnie. A spokesman later announced that Shapps had welcomed Amin’s “resignation”. Oh the irony…
Amin was a minnow. Like the gourd in the story of Jonah, he came up in the night and went down in the night, a transitory entertainment for the chattering classes. Shapps is different – 41 days from the General Election, it would be just too embarrassing to drop him. Not that Shapps has shown any sign of embarrassment and WTF would bet a pound to a pinch of shit that he isn’t embarrassed, just cross that he was rumbled. This week it turned out that even the apology issued for him by Tory Central Office was inaccurate but then brass neck is the new shame. Some people might regard the concerns expressed by WTF and Anya and all those who retweeted Anya as the outpourings of leftie Guardianistas with an axe to grind and that these things don’t matter. Well, if integrity and honesty don’t matter then we have all gone to hell in a handcart. And arrived.
Let us leave the week’s political fiascos and examine the week’s fashion fiascos, starting with famous-for-something-but-nobody-knows-quite-what-apart-from-Lionel-Richie-being-her-dad, TV star Nicole Richie wearing Balmain.
Has Nicole left the hanger in? Those shoulders are more padded than an asylum full of padded cells and that thing on her head resembles a tricorn hat someone has dunked in a bucket of water. As for the pink hair, it is not to be spoken of.
This is Dancing With The Stars star dancer Julianne Hough wearing Monique Lhullier.
This dress is clearly inspired by those moulds you use to make rocket ice lollies. That is all.
Here is actor and playwright Stephen Berkoff looking a right idiot, seen here with his wife Shelly Lee.
Stephen was in Beverly Hill Cop, one of WTF’s favourite films (actually, the sequel was even better) and so he will always command some residual affection. That said, nothing can excuse this excrescence, from the tea-cosy hat to the lairy tartan jacket designed for a golf-playing giant to the concentration camp trousers. His wife’s expression says it all.
More terrible trousers, this time on the fragrant Amal Clooney, top lawyer and wife of St George of Clooney, wearing Giambattista Valli.
Well these are colourful. In the same way as a bad acid trip is colourful and made worse by the hairy crop-top, like a baby Esau (this is turning out to be a very Biblical edition).
Next we have Rihanna out to dinner wearing Dries van Noten. Well, I say “wearing”…
There has been a positive mania recently for outfits where the wearer seems to have emerged from a gas explosion. This particular blast has ripped the legs off Rihanna’s jeans and blown off her top and her bra. Someone needs to throw a blanket over her……
Say hallo to our old friend, stylist and fashionista Brad Goreski at the GLAAD Awards in LA, wearing Maison Valentino.
WTF hates a shit-brown suit almost above all things. But not as much as she hates a shit-brown suit with butterflies embroidered all over it and worn with tri-tone brogues. Brad also bears a most unfortunate resemblance to Sinn Fein Leader Gerry Adams.
Here is professional car crash and sometime actress Lindsay Lohan wearing a dress (well, I say a “dress”) by For Love and Lemons and a lot of furry dead animal.
If there is a single good thing about this outfit, WTF would like to know what it is. Apart from the deceased mammals, there is the Minge Moment dress with transparent hem, the toning floppy hat, the appallingly fake-tanned legs the colour of a gingernut biscuit complete with foot-blotch and hideous platform fuck-me shoes. And it must also be observed that Lindsay must be the world’s oldest-looking 29-year-old.
Finally, to weird and wonderful actress Phoebe Price wearing who knows what…
What is going on here? After scratching her head in a bemused sort of way, WTF can only conclude that Phoebe is staging a one-woman show of Oliver and is wearing the Artful Dodger’s top hat and Nancy’s dress.
There are tits on display like a couple of hillocks in the Nevada desert and the cut of the dress widens her hips and shortens her legs like Toulouse-Lautrec. What the fringed jacket has to do with the price of fish, WTF cannot say.
This week’s It’s Got To Go concerns both racist boor Jeremy Clarkson, who had to go and actually went, and his supporters whose inalienable right to watch him zooming around in overpriced cars apparently trumps the right of producer Oisin Tymon not to be punched in the face for failing to sort out a steak supper. How very dare he complain about being assaulted? ONE MILLION people signed the petition demanding Clarkson’s reinstatement even before the full facts had emerged, ghastly mainstream columnists like Richard Littlejohn, Rod Liddle and Katie Hopkins extolled his virtues and his sense of Britishness and our idiot Prime Minister waded in to defend his mate. The general view seems to be that it was Oisin’s duty to be abused verbally for several minutes and then to be abused physically for a full 30 seconds and that he should man up and take his punishment. The twitter-twats went further. Oisin didn’t just deserve a punch but a bullet. Not the bullet. A bullet. A Special mention to @BigBarn6900 who expressed the view that “Clarkson could rape someone and we wouldn’t care”. Nice. On Wednesday night, WTF tweeted that she was “depressed to be living in a world full of wankers who think it’s OK to threaten a victim of a crime because he’s a victim”. And she still is, Readers, she still is.
Alright Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep those top comments coming in and your suggestions for It’s Got To Go and let us meet again next week. Be good.