As Claudius remarked in Hamlet, “Gertrude, Gertrude, When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions”. Claudius must have had Theresa May in mind, although in her case, sorrows have come in armies the size of Russia’s and China’s combined. First she called a General Election that wiped out her majority, the worst public decision since Prince Oberyn Martell fannied about in his trial by combat against Ser Gregor in Game of Thrones and got his skull crushed and his eyes popped out. Then on Wednesday she made the speech from hell to the Tory Party Conference in Manchester. A “prankster” (read “tosspot” and as funny as an outbreak of haemorrhoids) interrupted her speech to hand her a P45, allegedly on behalf of Boris Johnson. She then had a sustained fit of coughing last seen when Mimi pegs out in Act Four of La Bohème. And the backdrop, bearing the words “Building A Country That Works For Everyone”, which had held up all week despite the gallons of guff and hot air emanating from the podium, suddenly succumbed to Brewer’s Droop with letters falling gently to ground like autumn leaves. One can but be thankful that the “o” stayed up in “Country” .
Mrs Maybe soldiered on in that dully determined way of hers. To her credit, she did not run away or have an attack of the vapours. But it did nothing to improve her image as a dead duck quacking. Her interviews throughout the week were punctured with braying laughter, faux-cheeriness and an insistence that her party was united, which everyone knew to be Fake News. Even had her speech been delivered in a voice as mellifluous as a BBC newsreader, it would still have been more uninspiring than a glass of prune juice. The electorate do not like her. Her Party do not trust her. The Brexiteers suspect her of a sell-out. Her Cabinet is sharpening the knives. And now, a former Chair of the Party is openly calling for her to fall on her sword. In short, it has all gone totally tits up.
But you can say this for Mrs Maybe. She is all that stands between us and bloated buffoon Boris Johnson, a man as fit to be our chief diplomat as Donald Trump is to man the phone for the Samaritans. On Sunday, Johnson again undercut the Prime Minister by setting out his own “red lines” for Brexit, prompting further calls for his dismissal. On Tuesday, he made a stirring Conference speech urging Britain to embrace leaving the EU and to “Let the Lion Roar”. It was more Katy Perry than Winston Churchill but it seems to go down well in the Hall, only for Boris to blot his copybook within hours by referring to Sirte in Libya as the next Dubai, adding “The only thing they’ve got to do is clear the dead bodies away and then we’ll be there.” The man is a liar, an oaf and a liability. But who else is there in the oasis of mediocrity and incompetence that is today’s Tory Government? If Mrs Maybe looks like the best option, you know that we are all doomed. Maybe that “o” dropping out of country would have been appropriate after all……
Let us begin our perusal of the week’s preposterous clothing, starting with last week’s effort by a Dior-clad Melania Trump in Toronto, hobnobbing with Prince Harry at the Invictus Games.
Dior has achieved the impossible and made Melania look chubby. Which she is not. So was this a diplomatic attempt to curry favour with HRH by donning the deer-stalking clobber so beloved by his father and brother? All she needed was the matching cap.
Here we are in New York and actress Zosia Mamet at the launch of the Leopard, Leopard Pop-Up Shop.
Zosia has turned The Jungle Book into a one-woman show. And it is bad.
To Paris Fashion Week and celebrity son Jaden Smith wearing Louis Vuitton.
He looks like a logo’ed knob. That is all there is to say about Jaden. Except “just go away”.
Still in Paris, we have model Karlie Kloss wearing an Adam Selman suit and Robert Clergerie boots.
Karlie is a leggy grasshopper in pyjamas. It may be the angle but she seems to have the knobbliest knees in the history of patellae. And why show off your bra when there is so little in it to show?
Next we have supermodel-as-was Claudia Schiffer, wearing Acquazurra.
This foul concoction is what you get when you throw an Austrian blind, a bathmat and a fishing net into a washing machine with a needle and thread. Claudia designed the boots. As Readers will know, WTF hates a peep-toe boot almost above all things. Especially these ones…
During the week, WTF aficionado Pete Clark, alias @creativeblock_, waxed wroth about Chanel’s new collection and in particular, their plastic boots seen on the runway as modelled by 16-year-old Kaia Gerber.
That stomach is not so much flat as concave, the outfit is a nonsense and the makeup is tragic. But the boots! What the fuck are those boots? They are like the plastic sheaths you are given in department stores and museums to wrap your sodden brolly and avoid dripping everywhere. However, the image that struck WTF was that of Mark Addy in The Full Monty sitting in his shed wrapped in cling film in an effort to lose weight.
Still in Paris, this is Swedish fashion blogger BryanBoy, wearing Louis Vuitton at Miu Miu’s show.
More ridiculous boots. Those boots are amongst the silliest boots ever in the history of ever. If a member of Hitler Youth went to a fancy dress party dressed as a bumble bee, this is what he would look like.
Finally, this is Little Mix singer Leigh-Anne Pinnock at her birthday party in London, wearing something foul of her own design.
Leigh-Anne Pillock more like. You are wearing no knickers and a bra-and-skirt combo held together with garden twine. You are also wearing a giant yellow thing on top, like the macs in Singin’ In The Rain. Don’t give up your day job, love. Really.
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Nicola from Fulham who is exercised about emails with ‘donotreply’ addresses. Nicola asks “how frustrating are they? They are the snottiest things to receive, frequently hectoring but giving me no chance to respond”. Nicola reports that the other day she received a chastising email from her gym accusing her of not having attended a class she had booked (although, in fact, she had been here). However, she could not reply and by the time she returns to the gym, if ever she does, the moment will have passed. It’s Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please keep those comments coming in as WTF values them like anything. And don’t forget your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x