When is a rape not a rape? You see, some of us take the view that rape happens when a man penetrates you without your consent. Like when you’re asleep. Like when, before falling asleep, you make it clear that you will never have sex with him without a condom and wake up to find that he is having sex with you and when asked “are you wearing something?”, he replies (revoltingly) “yes, you”. But apparently we are wrong. Once a man is in bed with you, once he has had sex with you, he does not have to go through the palaver of asking you again. He has what former MP George Galloway ever-so-delicately once called the “right of insertion” in “the sex game”. Perhaps the right of insertion is enshrined in the European Charter of Human Rights. I must check…
What has been so depressing about the Julian Assange saga is the chauvinism directed at his alleged victims by those ever-so-anxious to defend our little hero. Even Assange does not maintain that the women were CIA plants, but says they were pushed or persuaded by the police into alleging rape (because they are so malleable, they have no mind of their own). To his supporters, they are honeytraps. If they are telling the truth, so what? It is not rape anyway. And even if it is rape, (and Swedish law is quite clear that it is), Assange protests his innocence and his word should be accepted because he says the US is out to get him. His supporters claim that the women did not initially complain of rape, although Women W had rape kit and HIV tests in hospital almost immediately. And the triumphant tone in which it is pointed out that one woman seems to have recanted overlooks the fact that both complainants have been named, shamed, accused and abused across the world.
If this is a conspiracy, it is pretty inept. Had Sweden wanted to extradite Assange to the US (which has neither sought extradition nor formulated charges), the Extradition Treaty between the two countries does not permit it. It would not have dragged its feet as it has. The claims by one woman are now statute barred and other has until 2020 before her rape claim will be. Those who say “he has not even been charged” do not understand, and have never bothered to look at, Swedish criminal process. Anya Palmer explained all this very cogently in her blog at the time. Yes, UK law has now changed but not with retrospective effect. As for the UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention, hailed by Assange and his supporters as a “sweet victory”, it is not a court but a committee of human rights lawyers. Three found for Assange, a fourth dissented and a fifth recused herself. The report held that he was arbitrarily detained in the UK, first in custody, then under house arrest and now in the Embassy, whence he cannot emerge without being arrested. Except that he was detained under a European Arrest Warrant, a process upheld by Supreme Court Judges in the UK and Sweden. Except that he was on bail and staying in a mansion and never under house arrest. Except that he jumped bail, leaving his sureties short by £240,000, to seek refuge in the Ecuadorian Embassy, a country inimical to the very press freedom he himself espouses.
Look, Readers, here’s the thing. You can hate the US and view it as the great Satan. You can celebrate Assange’s achievements in telling us stuff Governments would otherwise have covered up. You can view him as a hero. You can overlook his manifest shortcomings as a man. But rape is a serious offence. These women are not collateral damage in the fight for freedom or against the US. They may or they may not be telling the truth. But they both deserved to be heard.
And now to the roundup of the week’s Red Carpet rubbish, starting with actress Alison Brie at the premiere of her new movie How to be Single, wearing Monse.
The back is worse.
We recently saw Jaime King wearing a ridiculous Monse creation with redundant shirtsleeves and stupid cuffs and now here is more Monsense. Shirtsleeves on a strapless dress are about as much use as an inflatable dart board. And it is too short.
This is Scandal co-star Darby Stanchfield at the NCAAP Image Awards, wearing Yanina Couture.
The poor woman is under attack by a swarm of insects.
Quick! Call for Rentokil!
Last weekend was the Super Bowl. WTF loathes American Football, which is basically an excuse for men padded like overstuffed sofas to do each other a mischief. And it goes on for BLOODY HOURS. Here is Antonio Brown from the Pittsburgh Steelers at the ESPN party.
Antonio looks like one of the nastier sofas in the DFS sale (although those studs would hurt your bum). What is that dangling strap thing? Is he ready for a spot of sadism? This ridiculous ensemble is rounded off with more gold than in a Hatton Garden safety deposit box and a “mun” (man-bun) closely resembling a burnt teacake.
Say hallo to actress Kristen Wiig at the premiere of Zoolander 2 wearing Marc Jacobs.
Actually, say goodbye. The last time WTF saw shoulders like that, they were on Antonio Brown playing for the Steelers. The whole thing looks like a badly faded curtain with water damage and a lipstick mark.
Naomi Campbell was also there, wearing La Perla underwear and not much else.
This falls squarely into the category of That’s Not Even Clothes. Parading about in your scanties is not an outfit. Not even at all.
We now find ourselves at the Valentino show at New York Fashion Week and encounter philanthropist Linda Ramone, widow of the fabled Johnny Ramone, and singer J D King, both presumably clad in Valentino.
Good grief. What a pair of prats. She looks like a fallen angel in a feathery top hat. He looks like Charles 1’s head has been photoshopped onto the body of a fin de siècle fop.
To the Goya Film Awards in Madrid, where sartorial shockingness abounded. First up we have French actress Juliette Binoche, wearing Loewe.
And this is Spanish comedienne Yolanda Ramos wearing Marcos Souza Couture. WTF won’t lie to you. This one is VERY BAD.
Yolanda may be a comedienne but these pink lace genitalia curtains, worn with a dressing gown knitted from poodle hair, are no laughing matter.
But the worst of the week, by some distance, is “Author, Model, Philanthropist, Mentor..” Anita Hawkins, who is married to former Baseball Player, LaTroy Hawkins. Anita is wearing…..actually, WTF has no idea at all what she is wearing.
THIS ONE IS REALLY, REALLY APPALLING. PUT ON YOUR SUNGLASSES BEFORE PROCEEDING FURTHER. AND HAVE A SICK BAG AND SOME NEUROFEN CLOSE AT HAND.
It is only February, granted, but this must be a shoo-in for the WTF Summer Stinker 2016. Anita may be CEO and Founder of “Find One Reason to Smile” but turning up dressed not just as a clown but as the whole circus tent is taking things too literally. There is more camel toe than a caravan of camels and more strobing than an industrial-strength stroboscope. Yurgle.
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Anna from Lambeth. It is set out verbatim. Why has the whole world suddenly decided that we should all be going out in our nightclothes? Initially I thought it was just ill-advised parents dropping their kids off at school in Darlington, but to my horror, I stumbled across a multi-page “fashion” spread in this week’s Stylist featuring skinny models lounging around in silken jammies posing as daywear. If it’s sold as pyjamas, you shouldn’t be going out in it. End of.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep those comments rolling in which will lift WTF’s spirits, what with all this wind and rain and cold. Oh, and please keep sending those top quality suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x
I do hope Monse runs out of shirts very soon. I think Antonio has lost the man bag that was hanging from the strap. JD King’s walking stick is too short to be of any use other than as a fashion accessory, and Anita Hawkins is wearing a mobile migraine. Great week!
Mobile migraine is a fantastic phrase!
unfair to parents who do school runs in onesies and PJs – just be thankful they get the brats there on time, in the first place.
Yes – but it is about a slobby mental attitude. x
It’s Got To Go.
I have to defend the parents. I’m the oldest of seven children. Getting all of us out to the appropriate school (as many as three different schools at a time) required an acceptance of a certain amount of chaos. There were days when Mom and Dad were grateful that they ended the day with the same number of children they began it with. Even more grateful if they were the same children they began the day with.
Coordinating our clothes? We had to pass inspection when we left the house.
Shoes. Two. Check.
Shoes. Matching. Optional…
No, my mother’s outfits weren’t high fashion. In fact they were frequently maternity outfits, but my parents tuned out seven successful, well educated individuals with eight college degrees between them.
Maybe these parents should get up earlier?? Or maybe they don’t bother to get dressed at all.