In one of WTF’s favourite movies, Ruthless People, Danny de Vito’s wife is kidnapped and a huge ransom is demanded. Danny has no intention of paying a dime because he hates his wife and wants her money. He is therefore somewhat upset to discover the kidnappers (who are actually the heroes, long story) have not murdered his wife (Bette Midler) and are trying to bargain him down out of desperation. Exasperated, he tells them, ‘Well, I didn’t pay and just today I was at the morgue and she wasn’t there.’ The scene came to mind when WTF noticed that yesterday was 31 October 2019, but Britain was still in the EU and Prime Minister Boris Johnson was not dead in a ditch. He was not even in a ditch. Indeed, he had not so much as ventured outdoors to find some indentation into which he could crawl and expire for the cause. In short, he lied. Who knew?
Instead of Brexit, we are having a General Election and then Brexit (maybe). Jeremy Corbyn, having opposed an election for months, is definitely up for it, positively dancing down the stairs with glee as Britain trudges towards the polling stations for the third time in four years. Some people have probably not been to the dentist that often. But to be frank, most people would be more enthusiastic about the prospect of root canal treatment without an anaesthetic than having to endure the waffle and windbaggery that awaits the weary nation between now and 12 December. You would rather listen to the umpteenth rendition of a Merry Christmas Everybody, sung by a strangulated teenaged girls’ choir, than to some creep on the Today programme, failing to answer the question, and parroting on about difficult decisions and getting Brexit done and saving our NHS. No one believes anything anyone says about anything, and, in many cases, they don’t believe it themselves.
Politicians are making eyes at each other like an extended episode of Love Island, but with worse weather and more clothing. The Brexit Party is wooing the Tories to make a deal to stand aside in each other’s most-likely-to-win seats to ensure that Brexit gets done. The parties who want to stop Brexit are planning similar pacts. And from across the Atlantic, Donald J Trump is lavishing fulsome praise upon his friend Boris Johnson, describing him as ‘a fantastic guy’, and ‘terrific’, and the man to lead Britain out of Europe and into the arms of the United States, which will pour gold into our laps whilst sending us limitless supplies of chlorinated chicken and MAGA caps. Trump also heaped scorn on Corbyn, telling Nigel Farage in a radio phone interview that he (Corbyn) ‘would be so bad for your country, he’d be so bad, he’d take you in such a bad way.. He’d take you into such bad places. But your country has tremendous potential, it’s a great country’. From which we can deduce that (i) Trump is not a great judge of character (ii) he is an idiot and (iii) he has a vocabulary only slightly greater than an amoeba with learning difficulties. Trump also denied that he would insist on the NHS being on the table before any trade negotiations began, despite his Ambassador to the UK, Woody Johnson (of Johnson& Johnson fame, you know, the Pharmaceutical giant), saying last year that the NHS being on the table was a precondition of negotiations taking place. But then, like Boris Johnson, Trump rarely lets the truth get in the way of whatever he is saying. THERE ARE SIX WEEKS OF THIS AHEAD. Lay in supplies of ear plugs. It is going to be a long hard winter…..
We start our review of the week’s sartorial stupidity with the éminence grise behind Boris Johnson, creature of the night Dominic Cummings, looking like a sack of shit.
Yes, dear Readers, he walks into Downing Street every day looking like this – artfully dishevelled, a copy of one of the down-and-outs that Woody Guthrie used to write songs about.
Trump’s one-time éminence grise, Steve Bannon, also dresses like this. Is it supposed to demonstrate that these guys are not part of the elite? Whatever the reason, one’s first instinct is to hose them down and then dunk them into a bath of disinfectant. And leave them there.
Next up, we have actress Emma Roberts, wearing Vivienti.
Great legs, but she looks like a hat check girl in a dubious 40’s downtown bar.
Now we go to the Pride of Britain Awards in London and ‘celebritee’ Ferne McCann, wearing Rayane Bacha.
Ferne resembles a peekaboo pistachio mermaid. This sheer thing is becoming extremely tedious, but no-one is prepared to put a stop to it. Let it be soon. Amen.
Also attending the event was Strictly Come Dancing judge Craig Revel Horwood, wearing something very pink.
Craig spent much of the week slagging off fellow judge Bruno Tonioli for posting pictures of himself in his scanties on Instagram. Frankly, Craig would be better off worrying about his own clothing choices, including this ridiculous ensemble. If the Pink Panther went to a fancy dress party as a member of a South American Maracas Band, this is what he would look like.
To the Governors’ Ball, and Irish actress Saoirse Ronan, wearing Emilia Wickstead.
The lovely Saoirse is wearing an overlong picnic tablecloth. How she avoided going arse over tit is more than WTF can understand. This is the trouble with wearing borrowed designer togs. The samples are designed for tall stick insects. Saoirse is neither. As a result, the hems have been tacked up about eight inches and they are still too long. And there is something very disturbing about the crotch.
This is World Champion 200m sprinter, Dina Asher-Smith wearing Zimmerman at the Bazaar Women of the Year 2019.
Zimmerman calls this its ‘Explosion Dress’, and this is apt, given the effect it has on the stomachs of appalled onlookers. Dina should have set another World Record running in the opposite direction from this nonsense. Instead, she seems to be standing in one of those shiny hologram gift bags.
You thought that was shiny. Here is actor Donald Glover wearing Dolce & Gabbana.
High-waisted trousers, which are also too short, and a belt, and a corsage would already constitute excess, but then it goes into overdrive with head to ankle shiny red, like a strolling strawberry daiquiri.
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado @net_en_yah_oo, who has taken great exception to Kylie Jenner, the youngest of the excruciating Kardashian Klan, not just dressing her daughter Stormi Webster, aged 18 months, in Versace, but in an exact copy of the Versace outfit Mummy wore to the Met Ball in May.
Toddlers should not be toddling about in furry minge moments. It is offensive. It’s Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. You heeded WTF’s request last week to put a smile on her face by sending in your comments and she feels the better for it. Keep it going, And don’t forget your splendid suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x
Cathy and I always love your weekly rampage. Another cracker this week. And you gotta love Danny de Vito!
Please may I have your permission to share the first two pictures of your post? – the lookalikes are always my favourite aspect of wtf. If so, how may I credit you?
There is no credit required! Glad you’re enjoying it xx
Your observations on the political and on so-called fashion scene is simply the best! It’s the highlight of the day – and I forward the blog to at least a dozen friends each week. The description of that unelected horror Dominic Cummings is spot on – but 6 more weeks of lies – can anyone stomach it? Can you avoid any references to the K clan – even the toddlers – as it only provides oxygen to complete nonentities who go to ludicrous lengths for any publicity.