When Ed Miliband announced that a future Labour Government would impose a cap on energy prices at the Labour Party Conference in 2013, the right wing press went berserk. You will recall the Daily Mail smearing Miliband’s father, a Jewish refugee from Nazi Europe, as “The Man Who Hated Britain” although he had fought in World War 2. So you can imagine their reaction to the election of Jeremy Corbyn. It is as if Pol Pot had pulled down Parliament, sent the Monarchy to a re-education camp and moved his commissariat into No 10. Their hysteria had Jez and henchman John McDonnell, his Shadow Chancellor, set to destroy Britain as we know it, leaving us defenceless against hordes of Russians, Palestinians, ISIS, IRA gunmen and Commies various running amok. Everyone would have to save up to have nothing with taxes at 90%. Think East Germany in the 1970s without the bratwurst. Meanwhile Jez was depicted as a lothario. He’s been married three times! He had it off thirty years ago with Diane Abbott whilst married to someone else! (Actually he was separated, but fuck the facts). WTF has trouble buying into a high moral tone from papers owned by porn-peddler Richard Desmond (divorced by one wife for unreasonable behaviour and now with a new one). Or by Rupert Murdoch (three wives, numbers one and two dumped to make way for younger versions and whose editor and deputy of one of his papers shagged each other for years although each married elsewhere). Or by non-dom the 4th Viscount Rothermere (whose father, the 3rd Viscount conducted a lengthy affair with a Korean hand model and married her after the incumbent died). Oh, and John Major anyone?
There are many concerns about Jez’s performance as Leader to date. WTF has already written about his rag-bag Shadow Cabinet, his appointment of McDonnell and his refusal to sing the National Anthem. He had never used an autocue before and so read out a stage direction helpfully inserted by his staff into his speech at the Labour Party Conference. Other parts of the speech were recycled from years back and written by and for someone else. He got tetchy when pressed on the nuclear deterrent and said he wouldn’t press the button when it is neither Labour policy to abolish it nor wise to say it. There remains a nasty whiff of vengeance emanating from his supporters intent on pushing the Blairites out of the party. And he has as much chance of becoming Prime Minister as WTF has of taking a round off Floyd Mayweather because his backbenchers will chuck him out as soon as they work out how and even if they don’t, the electorate won’t have him. But as his speech showed, he is fundamentally a decent, principled, unshowy man who believes in improving people’s lives, a fairer society, holding tax cheats to account, better education, better housing, opposing executions by our so-called allies and business partners of those who speak out against oppression. He does not believe that the working man should “know his place” and be grateful for the crumbs from the Old Etonian table. Why should he? Why should they? It is interesting how quick the Tories were to condemn Lord Ashcroft last week over #piggate. But when it comes to condemning the rabid misinformation about Corbyn, there is not a murmur… It seems that after Princess Diana, after Leveson, the Press still conducts itself in a manner that makes Squealer from Animal Farm look amateur.
We begin our review of the week’s clothing cloaca at the Pride of Britain Awards (teary celebs cuddling brave kiddies in full view of the cameras) and singer Pixie Lott wearing a dress so dismal that the designer has wiped all references to him/herself from social media and fled the country.
Lawd love a duck, it’s Barbara Windsor making her 400th return to suicide-soap East Enders. Well it isn’t but as you can see from the photo below, Pixie has turned into Babs. To use the characters’ favourite phrase, wot’s going on? The slithery dress is not as bad as the shoes but it is bad enough to come with its own noose. Pixie! Stop it!
This is actress and comic Kirsten Wiig wearing Oscar de la Renta at the New York Film Festival.
WTF really hated Kirsten’s mega-hit movie Bridesmaids whose infamous barfing scene was replicated over her MacBook on catching sight of this. Why the recent fashion passion for tit spatulas? These seem to be inspired by a knocking-shop tapestry cushion ripped asunder by a frustrated customer unable to rise to the occasion.
To London’s Mayfair to see singer and actress Selena Gomez wearing Monse.
Frankly this is more Ponce than Monce. What we have here is a black silk bed sheet. But then Selena went out with little Justin Bieber so her taste is suspect.
We encounter designer Victoria Beckham (Posh Spice as was) leaving a party at her London store with husband David Beckham.
Posh is pissed. No problem with that but has she also, er, pissed herself? If she has, again no problem but either way why did the Beckham nookshlepers not drape something over her as she left the building? Surely there was a spare coat to hand… Memo to Posh. When you weigh less than a handful of edamame, alcohol goes straight to your head. As for David, he looks as if he has just cleaned the boiler and those shoes have got to go.
This is model and “star” of Real Housewives of Miami Joanna Krupa wearing Yas Couture by Elie Madi at the 35th PETA Anniversary Gala in Hollywood
WTF is all for the ethical treatment of animals and Joanna’s concern does her credit but what about her concern for people who have to look at her tits and bits adorned with swirly sequins? Spread the concern around a bit more, love.
We are off to the amFAR gala at Milan Fashion Week where we find WTF regular Ciara wearing Roberto Cavalli.
Ciara looks as if she has been playing dress-up with mummy’s curtains. WTF hopes that she rehung them when she got home.
Now we meet squillionaire Hong Kong businessman Stephen Hung wearing a most remarkable suit. Are those butterfly brooches?
Being very rich makes you are a prime target for kidnap so presumably Stephen wore this dotfest with very terrible trousers so as to be visible to his security staff amongst a sea of dinner jackets. Although any abductors would be strobed to death well before they could whip out the chloroform.
This is “socialite” (i.e. hedonist with more money than sense) Hofit Golan wearing Mario Dice.
It is not just the boring peekaboo Minge Moment like a lacy inkblot, although that is bad enough. It is the faux-pubes detailing around the Minge. At least one hopes they are faux-pubes.
Finally, our old friend fashionista supreme Anna dello Russo wearing St Laurent.
This is very Wild West saloon bride with creosote kninckles. In case you are anxious to replicate this look before checking yourself into a mental health facility, the dress costs £4,665 and the boots £845. Although presumably Anna didn’t pay….
This week’s It’s Got To Go is from WTF aficionado Leslie from London, quoted practically verbatim. Leslie has got the dead raving needle with Facebook posts which carry a cute message, usually accompanied with a nauseatingly twee image of a dog/baby/lily etc. and are put up by people too inane to think up their own punchlines. Here is an image of what I mean and it is by no means the worst. Although WTF observes this one is also misspelt.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Comments abounded last week, keeping a wide smile on WTF’s face. Keep them coming and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go and let us meet again next Friday. Be good x
Ciara looks as if she got out of bed in a hurry and got the quilt caught in her knickers, and Hofit Golan seems to have a pair of gloves shoved down her dress. Anna Dello Russo looks ridiculous, but then she always does. The boots look like Max Wall cast-offs.
You do realize that if Mr. Corbyn becomes Prime Minister I will be the first to ask you about taking a round from Floyd Mayweather.
That’s ‘when’, not if 😀
So I should give Floyd a call and start making arrangements?
I had better start spending more time in the gym
I totally misread your text for Selena Gomez, I read it as ‘Selena Gomez wearing moose’. The frock was so awful that it didn’t sound amiss.