What a truly terrible week it has been – a miserable, horrible, depressing horror of a week. People going out for dinner, people having a drink, people at a rock concert, people at a football match, suddenly and without warning blown to smithereens or picked off clinically, cynically by men with guns. Their crime? To be (mostly) young, to be enjoying themselves, to eat and drink and have fun, all of those things inimical to murderous maniacs whose ideology belongs somewhere in the dark ages, young men high on their own horror. A week that makes you want to gather everyone you know and care about into a huddle and keep them there in plain sight. Here are a few random thoughts and observations.
1. Do not think that what is going on here is anything to do with Islam. Or that ordinary Muslims, citizens of France and Belgium and the UK practising their religion, believe that this is Islam or celebrate what they are doing. Do not let the right wing scumbags whether it be Marine Le Pen’s Front National or UKIP or the BNP or those hate-filled fascists from the Daily Mail lead you to believe that this is mainstream Islam. It is not. It is foul and it is frightening, but it is not Islam. Remember how many Muslims have also died at the hands of these people.
2. Bombs and guns and murders are commonplace all over the world. We have just been blessed to have, in the main, avoided it. And there will be more of it.
3. The initial coverage of the events in Paris was compelling and informative. But between Saturday morning and the Wednesday morning when les flics stormed the flat in St Denis, there was actually little more to say, leaving the world’s press reduced to badgering survivors and begging them to repeat their nightmares live on TV and radio. It was a second-hand snuff movie where shocked and distraught citizens were asked “Did you see any bodies? Did you think you’d had it? Was it really horrible?”. Of course it was. Move on. Nothing to see here.
4. RIP Shenghen. Not that it affects the UK, but you cannot let people pop between countries without checking what they are carrying. You just can’t. Security and safety must trump politics.
5. There are times when it is best to say nothing. This means you, Mme. Abdesalam, mother of two sons implicated in the murders (for that is what they are) last Friday. One can understand that she was distressed. Brahim blew himself up when his suicide vest detonated. Salah is on the run. Speaking to the press, Mme Abdesalam said she was sure that Brahim did not plan to kill anyone and may have blown himself up by accident. He was apparently “stressed”. WTF agrees that it must be very stressful wearing a suicide vest. It does not however explain why Brahim was wearing a suicide vest in the first place. WTF is a cynical soul, admittedly, but tends to the view that the only reason that someone puts on a suicide vest is that they intend to blow the living hell out of themselves and anyone else in the vicinity.
6. Above all, let us all not kowtow to these maniacs. Let us not stay indoors and hide. Fuck them. Even in the midst of WW2, life continued. WTF’s dad (a doctor) rushed around London in the blackout delivering babies and tending the wounded and then went out and had a few drinks. They want to terrify us and we are duly terrified. But do not, please, let them win.
Let us be frivolous for a bit. We embark upon the week’s crappy clothing with Jordan, aka Katie Price, flashing her arse in a Henley House Cape.
WTF is unsure whether the boots are worse than the tattoo or whether the tattoo is worse than the arse. However, one recalls Dr Johnson’s remark that it is impossible to settle the precedence between a flea and a louse. Sadly, Katie’s arse is probably now her best feature.
Next we meet lovely actress Saiorse Ronan, star of Brooklyn, wearing Emilia Wickstead.
Middle-aged, lurid, billowing and bilious. With straggly hair. Er, that’s it.
Here is X Factor judge and general wet wank, Nick Grimshaw, with one of his protégés, the ludicrously named Mason Noise (geddit?)
Oh dear. WTF deplores Theo Walcott lookalikey Mason’s oafish behaviour but rather likes the coat, and he has more oomph than most of the dullards warbling at you over several interminable hours of a Saturday night. Nick’s jacket is a disgrace, like something worn by American tourists wandering round Vienna, and clashes with the vile sub-Missoni shirt. What that shirt has to do with the prices of fish, WTF cannot say.
We now encounter Jessica Biel, aka Mrs Justin Timberlake, wearing Monse. WTF really hates Monse. This is why.
Jessica is gamely taking place in the school sack race. Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy….
Here is top, top actress Cate Blanchett, wearing Lanvin.
Let us first abhor the shit coloured fabric, like a bad case of diarrhoea after an over-exuberant curry. But it gets worse, because what looks like flesh under the shit-coloured fabric is in fact more fabric….
No, no, no. It is as if her toga has slipped down, exposing arse, except that it is not arse. Faux-arse is a new one on WTF and she is glad that she has avoided prior acquaintance…
Meet actress Chloe Sevigny wearing Prouenza Schouler.
Carmen goes pole dancing. Why is her bare hip poking out? Why are there a couple of rodents dagling from her ears? What the hell is going on?
Finally, we have actress Rooney Mara wearing Alexander McQueen.
WTF is no fan of Rooney, who maintains a permanently farouche expression. The outfit here is a strange blend of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Band and Fantine from Les Miserables. Thank you Sarah Burton for layering the skirt and sparing us more than we wanted to see. I dreamed a dream that this sheer trend was over. And then I woke up and found that it was still going on….
This week’s It‘s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado Andrew from Gidea Park, who was horrified to find himself sharing a train carriage with a Sumo-sized gentleman with a male bun or “mun”. That is, of course, quite bad enough but Andy’s chief complaint, wholly justified in WTF’s opinion, was that the aforesaid person was wearing red socks and red sandals. In November! That is not to say that there is any season in which sock and sandals in general, and red socks and sandals in particular, are anything other than revolting. But the news that this ghastly summer trend is no longer confined to the warmer months is just plain depressing. It has definitely Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. The comments last week were absolutely tops, so make sure that you keep them coming and do not forget to keep supplying WTF with your splendid suggestions for It‘s Got to Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x
Totally agree with your rant this week. We were in London yesterday, on the tube and DLR and I felt a bit odd for a while, looking out for who knows what. But I’m not going to have any dog -murdering gits tell me what I can do and I refuse to be scared. Even if it is scary.
As we discussed in June, and which was included in “it’s got to go” around that time, men must not wear sandals or flip-flops any time. Disgusting, manky toenails. Do socks negate the nastiness? I think not.
“It’s Got to Go” always leaves me with a slightly bitter taste because its tone is so at odds with the positive, constructive and generally uplifting tenor of the rest of this blog. So here is mine, cast in a more positive form: “WTF for Prime Minister!”.
are you saying It’s Got To Go Has To Go?
At last! A fitting term for Nick Grimshaw – thank you so much! He has all the gumption of an amoeba – i’m surprised he’s able to make a decision about what to wear in the morning (but perhaps someone else does that for him….. Badly as you so eloquently point out).
Dear WTF, I would also be glad to say I’d not had ‘previous acquaintance’ with faux-arse… but it’s not true! I have witnessed with my very own peepers many and various instances of skin coloured fabric masquerading as bare flesh. Wish it were not so. That said, in Ms Blanchette’s case, the latter would outstrip the former by several country miles.
It doesn’t have the zing of genitalia curtain or pussy pelmet.
I’d have gone with faux-fanny.
ah but fanny has a different connotation here
I have an occasional writing partner in Pakistan who has spent years trying not to tell me that I write with an American accent, but that is what she has been telling me.
Faux-arse it is.
It’s got to go: bare legs in mid-late November. It only adds to the lack of style displayed by Cate B and others in this column. Most people have bad legs (or, to put it in a most positive way, few people have such fantastic legs they can leave them bare and un-bronzed through the winter). Cover them up when you have the chance, which is throughout winter.