To employ one iffy professional is a misfortune. To employ more than one looks like carelessness. To be surrounded by dodgy professionals looks like you yourself are dodgy as fuck. WTF speaks of Donald J Trump, who is as dodgy as fuck. There is so much dodginess to behold that you hardly know where to look first, your head spinning round and round like Regan in The Exorcist.
The week began with the re-emergence of the appalling Dr Harold Bornstein, Trump’s former New York physician. Bornstein, who looks like Kermit the Frog in an animal remake of Easy Rider, popped up to explode two bombshells. First, he disclosed that the letter he allegedly wrote in 2016 assuring the American people that Trump would be ‘the healthiest President ever’, was in fact dictated by the patient himself. Not that anyone believed that a fat, septuagenerian, slob who lives on cheeseburgers and double scoops of ice-cream, who needs a golf cart to walk more than 100 yards, was even remotely healthy, any more than they believed that other dodgy medic, also now ditched, White House physician Admiral Ronny Jackson, when he said that Trump had great genes, had grown an inch and weighed only 239 pounds. Bornstein also complained that in early 2017, Trump’s bodyguard had ransacked his office and removed all Trump’s medical records, days after the good doctor, somewhat in breach of his professional obligations, had disclosed to the press that he had long prescribed the patient a hair growth drug called Finasteride, despite it being known that it could cause erectile dysfunction, depression and erratic behaviour. WTF would not consult Bornstein over a chipped fingernail, let alone allow him access to her bits and pieces, but as long as he kept Trump supplied with hair fertiliser and fake medical reports, he clearly had his uses. Now he has been dumped and says he feels as if he has been raped. Perhaps he should join a support group ….
The week ended with the heartbreaking discovery that Trump’s now-former lawyer Michael Cohen, the one who supposedly paid off porn star Stormy Daniels from his own funds, and who is now facing the possibility of multiple charges of fraud and all sorts, was repaid after all. WTF, who had been much impressed by Michael’s generosity, is desolate, and, to be frank, she may never get over it. The news was broken on Wednesday night by Trump’s newest lawyer, former NYC Mayor Rudi Giuliani, a man with evilly-flashing teeth and an air of all-purpose malevolence, who went on a media rampage to announce that money had been ‘funnelled’ by Cohen through a Delaware company (set up to buy off floozies various who claimed to have had knowledge of the Trump todger). This disclosure was made to deflect allegations that election law may have been broken in that undeclared payments were made to benefit Trump’s campaign; but, like Finasteride, it had unfortunate side effects. Trump had previously denied any knowledge of the Stormy pay-off, so Giuliani’s explanation suggested that Trump must have been lying. Whoops, whoops and thrice whoops. When your lawyer lands you in the shit, it is time to get another lawyer. Trump, his other lawyers, and White House flunkies all ran around in concentric circles screaming in unison. By lunch time on Friday, Giuliani’s revelations were declared to be Fake News. Trump denied ever denying he knew nothing about the Stormy pay off, even though the denial is on film; he said that Guiliani had only been on the job for one day (actually, it is a fortnight) and was not up to speed; and that nobody had done anything wrong, except of course Hillary Clinton, Barrack Obama, James Comey and the Democrats. Giuliani was then forced to issue a statement explaining that when he said that Trump knew that Cohen had paid Stormy off and had then repaid him, what he had really meant was that he, Giuliani, knew that Trump had inadvertently repaid Cohen through retainers of $420,000 a year, but had not known what the money for. So that is now clear. Not. As WTF writes this, it is late Friday night and everyone still has ample time to change their stories several times before breakfast. Meanwhile, Giuliani, who was once a fine lawyer, but appears to have gone well off the boil, will doubtless soon follow Bornstein, Jackson, Cohen, and many, many, others through the Exit Door to oblivion (otherwise known as a career on Fox News.) God Bless America.
Let us turn to the clothing excesses of the week, starting with dancing judge Bruno Tonioli, wearing who even knows what…
WTF aficionado @MsAlliance was particularly worried that Bruno would catch a chill in that getup. Bruno is an extremely fit 62 years old, but that is no excuse for going about dressed as an American football referee in crotch-caressing shorts, not to mention that ridiculous medallion.
Next up, we have actress Blake Lively, wearing Sonia Rykiel.
There are not enough words in the lexicon to express WTF’s loathing of the bow tie. Blake resembles a contestant on Dancing With The Stars, the one specialising in Broadway tap-dancing routines. She could be dancing with our next contestant …
Derek Hough. Derek is a dancer on DWTS and used to squire Cheryl Tweedy-Cole-Fernandez-Versini-whatever-she-is-now-known-as.
WTF is all for a bit of colour, but Derek has come out wearing his silky jim jams….
Here is daytime TV personality Adrienne Bailon, wearing Resty Lagare.
Here is the question. Would you rather date Rob Kardashian for two years and have that collection of harpies as your putative sisters-in-law? Or would you rather pitch up at a Daytime TV Awards Ceremony in a dress that makes you look like a survivor of a shark attack? Adrienne is a very unlucky woman. She has done both.
Singer and actress Janelle Monae, wearing Christian Cowan.
The lovely Janelle has been split in half from top to toe, half funereal black, half zingy zebra, with a side order of leopard skin in a particularly extreme example of sartorial schizophrenia.
Meet actress Lilly Melgar, wearing Patricia Nascimento.
Lilly looks as if she is naked and covered in iron filings with abundantly untamed pubes, like a sartorial naughty-bits version of Wooly Willie.
To New York and the GLAAD Rising Stars luncheon, where we meet actor Nico Tortorella.
Er…a one-sleeved iridescent skirt and jacket and matching brogues. It is all a bit like a tattooed Miss Marple going to the Women’s Institute Christmas Cocktails.
Finally, we have model Victoria Clay wearing a bodysuit by Lasula Boutique. Careful now. This one is a shocker….
That top costs £17. It is safe to say that Victoria has overpaid – by about £16 50. This is not so much a tit window as a tit carriage entrance (WTF aficionado and stalwart Andrew Purcell suggests that tit canyon would be more apt), worn with Beasty-Yeastie -inducing flared trewsies.
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes, quite separately, from a large number of WTF aficionados, all equally outraged by these utterly ridiculous jeans from LA company Carmar Denim. They are called Extreme Cut Jeans and they cost £138. Here they are…..
There is something fundamentally wrong when there is more fabric in the pockets than in the rest of the jeans. And there is a total absence of arse cover.
No really, this just has to stop. These are not jeans, they are denim G-strings and they have so GOT TO GO.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday (I promise) ,where we shall consider the merits of the Met Gala outfits. Be good x
I’m sorry but all I could think of when looking at Lily Melgar’s iron filings dress was ‘magnetic minge moment’! This is what you have reduced me to @WTF_EEK!
The President’s supporters were so outraged by Michelle Wolf’s jokes about Aunt Lydia and smoky lies because they’re immune to the stench coming from the Orange Tub of Lard – and his enablers…..
Bruno Tonioli must have been in the way when someone croetosed a fence. Can’t say I have heard of Nico Tortorella.Something to be grateful for. I’m sure he is a wonderful actor. Thank you for mentioning the “jeans/g string” as I have been having nightmares about them all week!
*You’ve conjured up Lady Bracknell, Donald Trump, and “The Exorcist” and I’ve only finished reading the first paragraph. That puts you right up there with Anne Rice using a single paragraph to describe one of her protagonists as an Eighteenth Century French vampire cruising New Orleans in 1985 on a Harley-Davidson motorcycle while listening to Bach’s “Die Kunst der Fuge” on a Sony Walkman.
*I am going to fuss about your choice of the head-spinning little girl. I would have referred to an earlier scene in the movie, when the little girl interrupts her mother’s dinner party and pees on the floor while telling a visiting astronaut that he and his colleagues are going to die up there.
*The episode with Dr. Bornstein doesn’t ring true:
•In the United States, medical records belong to the patient. Mr. Trump demonstrated a basic ignorance of federal law. He needn’t have sent bodyguards to ransack the office, an intern with a release form would have done the trick, and more efficiently and more completely because…
•…seizing those records in that manner demonstrated a basic ignorance of how medical records are stored; Mr. Trump’s thugs may have recovered all the paper files in the office but these days medical records are all computerized and stored on off-site servers.
*Blake Lively is wearing a very nice jacket, and the bow tie adds a splash of color, but when a woman normally wears a jacket like that she also wears either pants or a skirt. She’s a bit too old to say she forgot.
*It’s not that Nick Tortorella is wearing an ugly iridescent-one-sleeved-coat with equally ugly iridescent matching shoes as much as the lack of a shirt (even a shirt with only one sleeve) to go with it. And you neglected to mention the matching ugly iridescent skirt he is wearing with it. There are places in the United States where he would be arrested no matter which public restroom he chose to use.
*Victoria Clay simply looks as if she forgot to finish getting dressed. That’s the second one today. And Tit Window? Tit Carriage Entrance? No, it’s more like Tit Canyon, and I’m exercising a fair amount of self-restraint by deleting several lines about generating echoes there (sorry, it must have something to do with turning sixty last month).