What can be more British than the birth of a Royal Baby? The whole thing is steeped in years of tradition. For example, hours after pushing out something the size of a football, the Royal Mother is supposed to appear on the steps of the Lindo Wing of St Mary’s Hospital Paddington, perfectly coiffed and made up in a fetching frock, Royal father by her side, and cradling the new infant before a swooning crowd of journalists shouting inane questions. Saddoes from the shires sleep out for several days awaiting The Moment, and then cavort in front of the cameras swigging Prosecco and making a tit of themselves. Said baby, who looks like every other baby, only richer and in a more expensive blanket, has a ridiculous title conferred on him or her by the Monarch and is thenceforth known as Prince X or Princess Y or the Earl of Snodsbury. Moronic Sky News presenter Kay Burley runs around screaming ‘It’s a Boy’ or ‘It’s a Girl’, depending on whether it’s a boy or a girl. A collection of Royal Experts, posh women called Araminta and craggy chaps in Barbour jackets, pontificate on Royal etiquette, talking bollocks for hours at a time. And the arrival of the said baby is posted on an easel in the grounds of Buckingham Palace, even though everyone already knows about it because it is all they have heard about for the last 24 hours on TV, radio, newspapers and social media. This is what puts the Great into Great Britain. Allegedly.
This time, things took a slightly different turn. Meghan Markle and Prince Harry, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, had a baby boy, but the place of birth was not made public. The proud parents did not appear in front of the cameras for two days, and when they did, the father carried the baby for a brief photocall inside Windsor Castle, whilst the mother wore her hair loose and looked pretty but tired. The baby is not going to have a title and is to be known as Archie Windsor. He looks like a baby. Only richer and in a more expensive blanket and a knitted hat. More to the point, one thing is decidedly different about young Archie. He is mixed race. What everyone really wanted to know was how dark was he? (Answer – it’s hard to tell). Because for all the celebration about Modern Britain and mixed marriage, the fact that the bride is (a) mixed race (b) American (c) an actress (d) divorced and (e) a feminist, means that she has been given a decidedly rough ride. She’s difficult, she’s demanding, she’s independent, SHE WON’T WEAR PANTYHOSE! Well she isn’t one of us, is she? She isn’t an English rose. She isn’t even rose-coloured. So prejudice creeps out. BBC broadcaster Danny Baker decided to tweet a ‘joke’ picture of two posh people accompanying a baby chimpanzee, with the tag ‘Royal Baby leaves hospital’. He later deleted it, tweeting ‘Once again. Sincere apologies for the stupid unthinking gag pic earlier. Was supposed to be joke about Royals vs circus animals in posh clothes but interpreted as about monkeys & race, so rightly deleted. Royal watching not my forte. Also, guessing it was my turn in the barrel.’ The apology, not that it was an apology, did not prevent his dismissal, and quite right too. Comparing a mixed race child to a monkey is a racist gag, and the National Broadcaster should not employ someone who thinks, even for one nanosecond, that it is funny. It is the same mindset that prompted football fans to throw bananas at black footballers during the 1980’s, a trend that is sadly making a comeback. And this is why for all the cooing and the gurgling and the public Prosecco, little Archie will never be regarded in the same way as his cousins, William and Kate’s children. Many parts of this country are not relaxed about a mixed race royal, whether mother or baby, because we are still a small-minded, petty, prejudiced, island people and Brexit is making it much, much, worse. Enjoy your son, Harry and Meghan. And enjoy your P45, Danny Baker. You earned it.
This week’s sartorial survey sees us off to the Met Gala in New York. The theme this year was ‘camp’, as if this would distinguish 2019 from any other year. As we Jews ask on Passover ‘why is this night different from any other night?’ This Gala brought us a feast of utter nonsense, some of it awesome but insane, starting with WTF favourite, actor Billy Porter, wearing The Blonds.
Do not adjust your eyeballs. This could not be any camper if Village People reformed and did a gig at New York Gay Pride. If only those wings really worked and he would fly far, far, away……
WTF admits to a sneaking admiration for Jemima’s outfit, like a bouncy black PVC beetle in a swim cap, but is a lot less keen on Lena’s ensemble, which gives the impression that she is being groped by a pervert in washing up gloves.
Beyoncé’s sister, singer Solange Knowles, wearing Ferragamo.
Solangé, as WTF likes to call her, is wearing a python nappy-jacket with a disturbing trompe l’oeil effect in the groin department, and hideous matching thigh boots. Many snakes have died in vain. Where is the RSPCA when you need them?
Actor and singer Jared Leto, wearing Gucci.
Cardinal Richelieu loses his head. And gains a new one.
Model Caroline Trentini, wearing Viktor & Rolf.
This is not camp, it is macabre. Viktor & Rolf seem to have been inspired by Walt Disney’s 1929 short, Silly Symphonies – Skeleton Dance.
Model and actress Emily Ratajkowski, wearing Peter Dundas.
Emily is wrapped in a silver cobweb loincloth with an imminent nip-slip.
Harry has borrowed his mum’s blouse and teamed it with some comedy trousers. As for Alessandro, if Jesus went to a fancy dress party as a Christmas cracker, this is what He would look like.
Model Gigi Hadid, wearing Michael Kors.
To mark the final series of Game of Thrones, Gigi turned up dressed as a White Walker.
Aspiring lawyer Kim Kardashian, wearing Mugler.
As WTF aficionado Ruth remarked, ‘she doesn’t even look human, she’s like a mannequin’. Either that or a giant caramel with tits just emerged from the shower….
Actor Cody Fern, wearing Maison Margiela.
Er….OK. This can best be described as man in tan suit (do you remember the trouble President Obama got into for wearing a tan suit?) and sky blue cowboy boots goes bank-robbing.
Diva Celine Dion, wearing Oscar de la Renta.
WTF could have lived with this yeti-meets-Las-Vegas-showgirl schtick had it not been so mingey…. what lurks beneath those tassels? And why do we even have to ask?
Vogue Editor-at-Large Hamish Bowles, wearing Maison Margiela.
Gonzo goes grand…..
Singer Katy Perry, wearing Moschino
There is lighting up a room and there is looking like a prat. Katy left looking like a prat behind some five miles back and is currently floating around in the stupid stratosphere.
And finally, actor Michael Urie wearing Christian Siriano.
If this doesn’t give you nightmares, nothing will. Michael has come as Ken AND Barbie.
This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado Sarah from Southend-on-Sea, who is indignant at the marketing of moisturiser for the post-menopausal minge. Over to you, Sarah…..
‘Watching crap TV last night, I nearly choked on an olive when confronted by an ad for menopausal moisturiser for one’s nether regions. Initially, I wondered why the viewers of ‘Wheeler Dealers’ would be interested in this (my excuse was that I had lost control of the remote when I went to get more wine). I then wondered why the know-it-all-but-perfectly-moisturised woman in the ad was about 30. Yes, 30. I know that can happen but it is hardly the core demographic. We want older ladies in vests with a cardigan looking very pissed off’.
WTF is in full agreement. It’s Got to Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please send in your comments, which have been in somewhat short supply of late. Keep them coming or WTF gets into a panic that you don’t love her any more. And don’t forget your utterly splendid suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x