If there is something worse than being lied to about matters which are plain from what Hamlet was wont to call the sensible and true avouch of your own eyes, it is being lied to and patronised about those matters by people with no integrity and the IQ of a root vegetable. President Trump fired James Comey on Tuesday in a letter which failed to thank him for his years of public service but noted that Comey had on three occasions assured him that he, Trump, was not under investigation. However, according to the White House, there was no link, not even of any kind, between that and Comey’s investigation into Trump’s associates’ links with Russia (for which he had asked for more money on Monday) or Trump’s bonkers tweets (also on Monday) that the whole Russia story was FAKE NEWS and the investigation a waste of taxpayers money.
On Tuesday night, we were told that Trump fired Comey because his Attorney-General, Jeff Sessions, had a memo from his newly appointed Deputy, Rod Rosenstein, had advised him that Comey had to go. In a memo dated, er, Tuesday. Sessions, who has a face like a dying tortoise, has recused himself from the investigation given that he himself is potentially under investigation. Trump himself referred to the investigation in his letter. But the dismissal was because of Comey’s handling of the Clinton email scandal. Which happened last year. And which Trump praised to the skies. According to spokesman Sean Spicer, “it was a Department of Justice decision”. Malignant pastel pixie Kellyanne Conway, the woman who introduced us to “alternative facts”, went on every TV news channel to dismiss Trump’s previous praise of Comey because that was when he was a Presidential candidate, not when he was the actual President and acted on the recommendation of his deputy AG. It was enough to make you sicker than a sick parrot with parrot sickness.
On Wednesday, the story changed again, probably as a result of Rosenstein threatening to resign if they persisted in blaming him. Instead Conway and Sarah Huckabee Sanders, the Deputy Press Secretary who would have to have intensive coaching just to be a moron, told us Trump had been concerned about Comey for some time because of the way he handled the Clinton email scandal. The gruesome twosome also claimed that Comey had lost the confidence of his FBI colleagues – all 36,500 of them. That canard was squashed yesterday by the Acting Head of the FBI, Andrew McCabe, who told the Senate Intelligence Committee, that “Comey had broad support within the FBI – and still does”. Huckabee Sanders then came back on Thursday with yet another version. Now Trump had always intended to fire Comey because he was a “showboat” and a “grandstander”. He did not rely on the recommendation of the Attorney-General and his deputy. Even though on Tuesday he said he had. And then Trump went on TV on Thursday night and admitted that the “Russia thing” had been on his mind when he decided to fire Comey – even though throughout the week his minions had maintained that it hadn’t.
But fuck it, who cares about the truth anyway? Trump, Conway and Sanders don’t. Sean Spicer, when he is not floating about on a ship on military duty, doesn’t. Mitch McConnell and Paul Ryan, Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber, don’t. In Trumpland, you can say something and keep on saying it until you change it and say something else and then deny you ever said the first thing, even though you did and everyone saw and heard you say it on TV and Twitter. There have already been more flip flops than the Moscow State Circus and there will be plenty more. By the weekend we will be told that Comey was monitoring the President though his microwave and dances stark naked round his garden whilst sacrificing chickens. Someone ghastly, like Rudi Giuliani, will succeed Comey. There will be no enquiry into Russian collusion. There will be no independent prosecutor. There will probably be more enquiry into Clinton’s emails. And Trump and his gang of inept, incompetent, ignorant liars will keep feeding us shit and will keep expressing hurt and amazement that we aren’t buying it and that our noses can still smell the shit. This is the Presidency in Trumpland. Hail to the Chief.
We start our examination of the week’s fashion flotsam with top golfer Rickie Fowler at the Kentucky Derby, wearing a jacket by Vineyard Vines costing $495.
WTF might have let Rickie off with a final written warning – had the jacket been worn with sober trousers – on the grounds of themed fun. But combining that nightmare vision of blue and white gee-gees galloping across a flaming-flamingo-pink field with a hospital-scrubs green trewsies-and-tie combo and brown brogues is simply unforgivable. Not so much putt as putz.
Next up is singer Kelly Rowland, wearing Monsoori.
There is an Annual Toilet Paper Wedding Dress Contest in New York City every June. This would be more than a worthy winner….
To the MTV TV Awards in Los Angeles, where we encounter actor and comedian Adam Devine wearing a truly horrific suit by Jil Sander.
This might have passed muster on an extra from Apocalypse Now in 1979. But not on a spring evening in Los Angeles in 2017. And especially not with white plimsolls.
Here is Hunger Games actress Amandla Stenberg, wearing Fendi.
This is yet a further example of WTF’s loathed concentration camp chic, only this time in a rag doll version with shaven head and cyanotic lipstick. Vile.
Next we have 13 Reasons Why Actor Tommy Dorfman wearing Vivienne Westwood MAN and DSquared2 boots. Scroll down slowly……
As Ant remarked when Susan Boyle first started warbling I had a Dream on Britain’s Got Talent to a faux-stunned panel “Wow! You didn’t expect that, did yous? No!”. This is a voyage of horrifying discovery, like when you walk through a wood only to discover a burial site after the bluebells. First Tommy’s lovely face, then the lairy Mr Toad jacket, the ruched skirt – very Dame Viv – and finally the disco wellies as if Studio 54 were underwater.
And now a trio of golden showers. Brace yourselves… this is going to be BAD. First up we have actress/singer Jennifer Lopez wearing WTF bugbear, Minge Maestro Julien Macdonald.
This is basically a deconstructed apron within a double helping of tits. We know that Jen has a banging body but do we have to see so much of it? And so bloody often?
Second, WTF’s favourite Z Lister, Lizzie Cundy at her birthday party, wearing Marie’s Boutique.
This dress costs £49 95. Which is £49 too much. Just when you think that Lizzie cannot sink any lower, you find her in some subterranean recess deep, deep below the earth’s crust like some sartorial pot-holer. Never mind Lock Her Up. Block Her up!
Finally we have Modern Family actress Ariel Winter, wearing Falguni Shane Peacock.
Ariel is fighting to stop body shaming, which is good. She isn’t stick thin, she doesn’t want to be and she doesn’t need to be, she looks great. However, this dress, not that it is a dress, is not the dress to do it in. It is cheap-looking, tacky and tawdry. Hate the sheer inserts fashioned from a pair of tan tights. Hate the overabundance of bosom. Hate the pube pelmet. Hate it. Give women back their pride. But not like this.
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF of Islington who was appalled to learn this week, amongst all the other things she was appalled to learn this week, that one of the fruits of privatising phone services (part of the determination of Governments various to sell off the family silver) is that phoning some Directory Services 118 numbers can cost a staggering £15 98 just to get the number! Ask them to put you through and it can cost £7 99 A MINUTE! £7 99 A MINUTE! OFCOM is now investigating. Whoopie fucking woo. Not everyone has wifi or 4G. Sometimes even if you have them, they don’t work. OFCOM has been slower off the mark than a broken-down bus without wheels. Abject.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. There were some fine comments last week which WTF much enjoyed. Keep them coming as well as your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x
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Just wanted to see if there was an echo amidst the silence.
I suppose that your American readers may just be so numbed by this one-man parade of ignorance, arrogance, and incompetence that they are just too exhausted to respond to another provocation, while your readers elsewhere are mystified as the United States seems to be living through a coup d’etat by a rouge skit from Monty Python’s Flying Circus. Come on, you can see Mr. Trump being played by Eric Idle.
Or it might just be that one more time you’ve nailed it so succinctly that any additional comment is as superfluous as improving the smile on Mona Lisa.
I’m going to fuss because a warning to adjust the brightness setting on my iPad wasn’t provided before I scrolled to the photo of Rickie Fowler at five o’clock in the morning. Not counting the esthetics of his outfit, that hurt.
I don’t see the concentration camp chic influences in Amandla Stenberg’s outfit. It looks more like a 1970s era polyester pantsuit without the pants. Her lipstick is unsettling. Looks like the stuff police departments use when they want to identify a partially decomposed body through a photograph released to the public.
Tommy Dorfman. Dork of the Day. ‘Nuf said.
The Golden Shower Sisters. When Alfred Hitchcock celebrated his eightieth birthday, he had a star-studded gala with all sorts of Hollywood people. Ann-Margaret showed up wearing a body hugging and very low cut gold lamé gown. Hitch walked up to her, looked her up and down, and greeted her with “Thar’s hills in that thar gold”.
Mr. Hitchcock was an original. These ladies ain’t.
You’re an original too. Can’t wait until next Friday.
I don’t understand how these women can look so confident in these awful things (can’t call them clothes). I’m not talking about the likes of the Cundy woman, but I mean proper, sensible, women like Jennifer Lopez and the Ariel one. They’ve got brains, surely they are mortified by being photographed in two bits of mesh and a sequin?