Here is your Brexit update. It is still a clusterfuck. Everything is as bad as ever, only worse. Everybody hates everybody else and no one trusts anybody. Everyone is stabbing each other in the back. We may or may not be leaving the EU shortly. We are still an international joke.
At times like this, one looks for comforts wherever they may be found. And where better than the rotund, puce-faced, Mark Francois MP, Deputy Chair of the Tory European Research Group. Francois claims to be a military man. He talks about the Army not teaching him to lose, as if he had engaged in man-to-man combat with ISIS fighters and rough types various from Afghanistan. In fact, Francois was once in the Territorial Army, in some unspecified role, probably running the laundry or peeling the spuds. Even Dad’s Army would have rejected him. Whilst others around him succumb to the Maybe Deal for fear of losing Brexit altogether, Francois stoutly continues to hold out for a No Deal. Sadly, on Wednesday, he and his colleagues were outfoxed by the Cooper Bill, which would compel the Government to go back and demand more time from the EU. This passed by one vote, at which point Francois gave a splendid impression of a pan of exploding offal. He ranted. He raved. The veins in his forehead bulged like giant tadpoles. It was like Krakatoa, Essex-style. Fearful colleagues crouched low in their seats to avoid the likelihood of being showered with fragments of Francois. ‘And it went through in the end, Mr Speaker, by one vote…Someone shouts from a sedentary position 52-48. There’s a difference between a majority of 1.4million and one.’ Er, yes, matey, that is because the electorate of Great Britain is bigger than the membership of the House of Commons. It is called representative democracy. But Francois was on a roly-poly. ‘So all I would say to the Right Honourable Gentleman opposite and his parliamentary colleagues is the public won’t be impressed by this. Forgive them Father for they know not what they do….’
Granted that Francois was annoyed by this unexpected turn of events, but invoking the final words of Jesus during the Crucifixion, particularly this close to Easter, was seen by some as presumptuous. We have barely had time to get our heads around the concept of Francois as the lovechild of the Duke of Wellington and Ross Kemp, aka Grant Mitchell off East Enders. Now he has morphed into the Messiah. Only last week, Francois was vowing never to support May’s deal, even were they to put a shotgun in his mouth. Now he is calling for a cross and some nails. This obsession with martyrdom in the Brexit cause is positively disturbing, but if that is what he wants, who are we to stop him? Mind you, he is what the Australians call ‘a big unit’. If they are going to nail him up, they had better order in some super-strength timber. And some extra-large nails.
We start our review of the week’s crappy couture with Cabinet Minister Liz Truss, probably the dimmest woman in Government, off to a meeting at No 10 Downing Street. WTF has no idea what Liz is wearing. None at all.
This is a sort of check jumpsuit thingy. It is far too tight around the chest, giving her a mono-boob, exacerbated by the ridiculous belt, and it is crinkling everywhere like a sharpei’s bum. Clock the jaunty red shoes, carefully selected to match her Ministerial red folder in a failed attempt to make her look interesting.
This is what happens when you put a Little Lord Fauntleroy doll into a boy band. This is your fault, Simon Cowell. Yours.
Also in attendance were actor (Silvio Dante in The Sopranos) and musician (E Street Band) Steven van Zandt, seen here with his actress wife Maureen van Zandt, (who played Silvio’s wife Gabriella). In real life, they have been married for 27 years.
Steven is bedecked in purple like a Roman Emperor, even his scuffed suede shoes. Ever since he went through a car windscreen many years ago, leaving his scalp badly scarred, Steven has favoured some form of head cover, and it must be said that the bandanna is the outfit’s only redeeming feature. Which is the saddest statement ever.
Here are two rank examples of Sheer Tedium from the GLAAD (Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation) Media Awards. First off, actress Olivia Munn wearing Yanina Couture.
As WTF aficionado Navid gasped, ‘She’s so naked’! You have to be desperate for attention to venture out and about with a couple of peacocks nesting on your nipples. And what happens if she had to raise her arm to hail a taxi or fend off someone with Harvey Weinstein-style intentions?
And second, young actress Alexandra Shipp, from X-Ray Apocalypse, wearing Reem Accra.
This dress is ranker than a skunk during a deodorant manufacturers’ work-to-rule. WTF particularly deplores the crotch-to-knee mourners’ curtain, and the vomitous floral pattern, as if a fox has thrown up in a flowerbed.
WTF has a very soft spot for actor Kiefer Sutherland, he of 24 and Designated Survivor, but even she finds this ensemble difficult to forgive. Indeed, the Pope would struggle.
You only ever hold your jacket like that when it is too small, although the colour is good on him. But then we come to the blue aviators, the lounge-lizard scarf, the terrible jeans crumpling over his knees and those shoes!!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE SHOES? Did he steal them off a dosser dosing in a doorway? Those shoes are not so much distressed as devastated. As are we for having to look at them.
We next call in at the NAACP Image Awards to find more birdies, this time on actress Tracie Ellis Ross, wearing Marc Jacobs.
It is entirely, gloriously, bonkers. You need to have massacred one hell of a lot of birds to have put this dress together.
And we now encounter two more shocking examples of Sheer Tedium. First actress Kate Beckinsale, wearing Minge Maestro Julien Macdonald.
WTF just knew this was one of Julien’s because (i) it has more holes than a colander (ii) it is see-through (see (i) above) and (iii) it has the mandatory minge shield.
Oh and (iv) you can see Kate’s arse. Arse cheeks are as staple a feature of Julien’s work as lining is in nearly everyone else’s.
And finally, actress Cynthia Erivo wearing Mario Dice.
There may not be a law against candy-coloured lace, but there should be. One look at Cynthia and the jury would not even bother to trek back into their room for tea and biscuits before delivering a guilty verdict. Only her ugly panties spared us from a full-on Minge Moment in a sea of sugary pink ruffles, like a flamenco flamingo after wandering over a landmine.
This week’s It’s Got to Go comes (quite separately) from WTF aficionados Mary, Ruth-Anne, Honsca, Humfrina and Alessandra, all of whom have spotted this appalling horror of horrors. Meet the Janty (jean panty – geddit?), which costs a mind-boggling £235.
Ready? You won’t be…..
This is good news for waxing technicians and bad news for everyone else. Denim sans panties sounds very uncomfortable and wearers should have a tube of Canesten nearby at all times. Twitter came up with some excellent observations on the topic. Brandy Jensen tweeted that she was looking forward to her first jeast infection, while Mean-Moe Green referred to the risk of jamel toe. This whole design is overpriced and is horribly Mingey and It’s Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending your splendid comments as well as your suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x