Hallo Readers,

And so here we are back again on the roller coaster that is the Brexit Big Dipper. You will need a head for heights and a strong stomach. One minute you are soaring towards the top of the wheel with the common people down below cheering your valour and your political nous. The next minute, you are plummeting back down to earth like Harry Kane in the penalty box, your insides now coating your outsides, and the rude citizenry giving you the bird. It is like a funfair – only without the fun. Roll up, roll up, roll up.

Last week, Boris Johnson was cock of the walk, with the emphasis on cock. Everyone praised his cunning plan to prorogue Parliament, stymying debate on Brexit and scrutiny of any new deal, not that there is a New Deal, or that there will a New Deal. The New Deal is the Emperor has no clothes on, and it is flashing its naked arse. Leavers wallowed in the discomfort of the Remainers. But then the wheel started on its downwards trajectory, and suddenly the heroes were zeros. Outraged Tories went all Sydney Carton and sacrificed their political careers rather than acquiesce with this chicanery. One Tory actually crossed the floor during Johnson’s speech in the debate, taking Johnson’s majority with him. Even the threat of losing the whip and their right to stand as Tories, did not stop 21 MPs, former Chancellors, and Ministers, and eminent backbenchers, and people who themselves had challenged for the Leadership only a few golden summery weeks ago, defying orders and voting to take control of the timetable, at which point they were expelled quicker than someone’s lunch on descending the aforesaid Big Dipper. That in turn prompted other  departures, including Johnson’s own brother, Jo, the brother that got the sense of decency and the common sense. When your own brother decides that your political tactics are so unsavoury that he can neither stay as a Minister in your government, nor as an MP supporting your government, things are taking a decided turn for the worse.

After Cain had murdered his brother Abel, God asked him where his brother was. Cain answered, “I know not; am I my brother’s keeper?”  Jo has not only declined to be his brother’s keeper, he has checked out of the zoo, leaving Johnson floundering and incoherent on a trip to Leeds designed to rally the faithful. It took a heart of stone not to laugh.

The only consolation in all of this has been the exposure of the loathsome Jacob Rees-Mogg as just another arrogant posh boy. The charming Old Etonian manners melted away as the new Leader of the House insulted everyone, including the people he was supposed to keep on board, lolled across three benches like a Roman Emperor visiting the vomitorium, and wound up a bad week by comparing a respected doctor, who had warned that a no-deal Brexit would leave the country without much needed medicines, to another, but discredited, doctor who had been struck off for fear-mongering. The outrage of the medical world poured forth upon the little twerp, and quite right too. Let us that hope that Johnson and Moggy, the Dumb and Dumber of current politics, maintain one of the shortest  government partnerships in recorded history. May it come soon. Amen.

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We start the review of the fashionable flotsam of the week with singer Leigh Anne Pinnock wearing Ana Ljubinkovic.

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There is a lot going on here and none of it good, a cacophony of lace and bows and latticework like something out of a Restoration comedy.

Here is actor Timothee Chalamet wearing Haider Ackermann. 

There is directional and there is daft. The only direction this should be is going in is downwards and into the bin. In particular, the trousers rolled up like a french beige Freemason are to be deplored.

Here is #NepotismBarbie, aka the appalling Ivanka Trump, who continues to impersonate a political adviser. This week she was in Colombia wearing Colombian designer Silvia Tcherassi. The gentleman next to her is the Deputy US Secretary of State.

#NepotismBarbie thought it would be appropriate to visit Venezuelan migrants, who have fled to Colombia with nothing but the clothes they stood up in, wearing an $1,800 dress and circulation-stopping sandals. The dress, which is horribly ugly, resembles an old burlap sack, hand painted by depressed children as part of an art therapy course.

To the GQ Awards in London and TV presenter Maya Jama wearing Labourjoisie. And no knickers.

Sigh. WTF cannot even be bothered to bring you the sight of the Jama buttocks, exposed beneath a shimmering condom. Apparently her ex-boyfriend was also present at the bash, and so the tabloid law of failed relationships dictates that she must have been showing him what he was missing. Or maybe she was just flashing her buttocks. WTF is voting for option B.

Also there was singer Rita Ora wearing Maticevski.

WTF does not mix in such exalted circles, and therefore can only wonder whether the invitation specified that women will be admitted only if they are baring various parts of their anatomy. Not that Rita is usually dressed any other way. 

To the Venice Film Festival and French actress Adele Exarchopoulos, wearing Jacquemus.

If a flamingo entered the Tour de France, this is what it would look like.

Still in Venice, we conclude with Italian actress Francesca Guiliano, wearing an old net curtain.

Francesca has a magnificent embonpoint but one fears that her bosoms about to makes their escape from the confines of their lacy prison and make a dash for the lagoon, where a gondola await to row them to freedom.  WTF has also taken against the furry bits around the shoulders, like the tufts of dog hair on the floor of a pet parlour.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Yvonne from the Borders  who has directed us to these revolting trousers and matching top from ASOS.

For reasons you will readily understand, they have been nicknamed Poopy Pants and they look like shit, something Bobby Sands wore during the 1970s Dirty Protests in Belfast prisons during the Troubles. Yikes. It’s Got to Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Put a smile on WTF’s face by keeping those comments rolling in, as well as your splendid suggestions for It’s Got To Go. WTF will be back next Friday. Be good x