It is time to consider the rise and rise of priapic Mayor of London and Prime-Minister-in-Waiting, Boris Johnson MP. Boris is known to be, in no particular order, unprincipled, a bull-shitter, a liar and an adulterer. Having promised Londoners not to seek election as an MP until after his second term as Mayor, he promptly reneged on that promise and grabbed the safe seat of Uxbridge and South Ruislip in 2015. Once elected, he attended Cabinet meetings, despite holding no official role. Boris once compared his chances of becoming Prime Minister to his being reincarnated as an olive and if that is not enough to put you off tapenade, nothing is. But when Cameron announced that he would not continue as PM after the 2020 election, things looked up for our portly hero and now that Dave’s EU deal has proved to be all piss and wind and false promises, backbenchers are baying for his blood, incensed at remaining under the yoke of Johnny Foreigner. Dave might find himself retired rather earlier than 2020, perhaps even before the referendum this year. With the Chancellor and the Home Secretary backing Dave, the stage is set for a dissenting Boris to seize power. Readers, there is a real possibility that within months, Boris and Mrs Johnson, should she still be talking to him, and their children Lara Lettice, Milo Arthur, Cassia Peaches and Theodore Apollo, will be waving at us from the front door of Number 10 whilst Pickfords unload their furniture round the back. At which point, frankly, we are all fucked.
Like that other politician with silly hair, Donald Trump, the buffoonery disguises something – and someone – rather nasty. In a speech in 2013, he told us “it is surely relevant to a conversation about equality that as many as 16 per cent of our species have an IQ below 85, while about 2 per cent have an IQ above 130,” adding “I don’t believe that economic equality is possible; indeed, some measure of inequality is essential for the spirit of envy and keeping up with the Joneses and so on that it is a valuable spur to economic activity.” The Times sacked him for falsifying a quote (from his own godfather, who then complained to the editor) and Michael Howard sacked him from his Shadow Cabinet for lying about getting a mistress pregnant. The London Evening Standard kept up a sustained assault on his predecessor as Mayor, helping Boris to win the election in 2008; since then, the then-editor and the two main journalists have got plum jobs in Boris’ administration. He is a shocker.
And yet this week the headline news was that like Barkis in David Copperfield, Dave, indeed the Nation, is waiting for an answer – will Boris accept Dave’s half-baked Euro proposal and support him? During the Olympics, Boris got stuck on a zip-wire and dangled like a highwayman on a gibbet, shouting “Yikes!” Now Dave is the one dangling, hoping Boris will cut him down. But Boris is still considering his position, which we know will be decided not by principle but by self-interest. Apparently, one in three citizens are waiting to see which way Boris decides before making up their own mind. Which, if true, is a damning indictment of those citizens. And bad news for the rest of us.
To the week’s clothing cesspit. First, the BAFTAS in London and Rebel Wilson wearing Marina Rinaldi.
Cue Mrs Danvers, the evil housekeeper in Rebecca, wearing a mullet skirt. All she needs is a set of keys and some firelighters.
Next up, we have Laura Haddock wearing vintage Givenchy.
Yes, Laura is a new mother but that is no reason for her to dress as the bear that buggers Leonardo di Caprio in The Revenant.
And finally from the BAFTAS, Stefanie Powers (of Hart to Hart fame) wearing Jacques Azagury.
This is more taxidermy than couture. Stefanie is a splendid 73 years old but no one can carry off couple of dead turkeys on their shoulders unless they are a meat porter.
And now the GRAMMYs, kicking off with country singer Sam Hunt wearing Dolce & Gabbana.
This is a rumpled raspberry ripple. And look at his hands in his pockets … you would think Freddy Kruger’s digits were in there.
Taylor Swift won a hatful of awards on the night, but she wins nothing for this typically vulgar Atelier Versace creation.
First, it isn’t a dress, it’s a bandeau bikini (admittedly in great colours) with a voluminous beach wrap. Second, she is flashing her knickers like a naughty schoolgirl.
Here’s Bonnie McKee wearing Bullet Apparel by Jim Tanner.
Like the Tin Man in a pink wig and tart’s trotters. Those shoes are a whole It’s Got To Go on their own.
This is rapper Wiz Khalifa wearing something very silly.
Fred Astaire might have looked like this, had his trousers shrunk in the wash and his blisters prevented him from donning his patent pumps.
Now we meet Skylar Grey wearing Filipino designer Cary Santiago.
A face emerging from your lady areas is just plain disturbing. She seems to giving birth to one child whilst its twin is looking out of the tit window. Yurgle.
Alice looks like he has been exhumed. Joe looks ace. Johnny looks like a total knob. Again.
This next one is utter madness. I refer to Canadian music producer Shawn Everett with his award for Best Engineered Album (Sound & Color by Alabama Shakes).
Shawn himself has been engineered from the various parts of a hippie, an Amish, a psychedelic schoolgirl and a lumberjack. With bizarre results.
And now here come the real attention seekers and arse flashers. We start with Cameroonian singer Dencia, wearing a customised pink onesie and preposterous boots.
The outfit is disturbingly similar to the sort of thing worn by the late, unlamented Jimmy Savile. This appears to be a sort of mobile toy tidy with crystal crotch. And someone has barfed on her boots.
And how about Z Lala in this ridiculous ensemble?
The last time we saw her, she was dressed as an octopus at the AMAs. This time, she is in a bra and whips with a hat fashioned from an upturned basket. Perhaps she had been out on the lash when she designed it.
Gasp at Jacqueline van Bierk, wearing Andre Soriano.
This is more berk than Bierk. If an evil fairy went to a fancy dress party dressed an ink-splat, this is what she would look like. As for the shoes, WTF prefers not to speak of them.
Jacqueline’s best pal is another serial flasher, Joy Villa, also wearing Andre Soriano. This Andre Soriano is a pest.
At the 2015 Grammys, Joy wore an Andre Soriano outfit composed of orange traffic netting and would have won the WTF Summer Stinker 2015 had it not been for TOWIE’s Bobby Norris and his revolting cock sock. This time, she is dressed as set of iron railings with a train. What will next year bring? Speed cameras?
Finally, Manika Ward, wearing not enough.
WARNING!!!!! BARE ARSE ALERT!!!!!! LOG OFF IF YOU ARE LIKELY TO BE OFFENDED!!!!!!
Manika had a hit feat. (that’s featuring for you fogies) rapper Tyga, called I Might Go Lesbian. Looking at this get-up, WTF Might Go Mental. Why bother with a seamstress? Just wrap some tinsel over your bits and you’re ready.
This week’s It’s Got To Go seems to have hit a bum note with many of you. The BBC went bonkers with its coverage of the discovery of gravitational waves and bored us to death with it. In WTF’s view, this is a story about scientists you’ve never heard of who have found something you don’t care about and can’t understand. It’s Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep those comments rolling in to cheer WTF up, as she is feeling very nervous about Tottenham Hotspur winning the League, not to mention Boris becoming PM. And please keep sending your top suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x