Hallo Readers,

We want to hire an unusual set of people with different skills and backgrounds to work in Downing Street … The categories are roughly: data scientists and software developers; economists; policy experts; project managers; communication experts; junior researchers one of whom will also be my personal assistant; weirdos and misfits with odd skills…”

As a hiring strategy, what could possibly go wrong? But this was the very result the employer wanted. And what he got, in the shape of 27 year-old, political ‘super-forecaster’ Andrew Sabisky. Sabisky may or may not be awfully bright, but it turned out that he has more political skeletons in his closet than Jeffrey Dahmer. He had previously written enthusiastically about Eugenics, the theory that you can breed a race to perfection by screening out bad genes and producing a tip top result, like human cockapoos. Apparently, you get rid of the ‘permanent underclass’ or ‘residuum,’ thus ending up with the cream swag. Sabisky had proposed whittling down the ‘underclass’ by forced contraception. Oh, and he thought that black people had lower IQs than white people. Sounds familiar? 

Here’s the thing, Readers. Sabisky was hired to work at No 10 Downing Street. By and for Dominic Cummings, Boris Johnson’s Svengali. The artfully-deshabillé Cummings, who looks as though he got dressed in the dark only to dragged through a hedge backwards by a giant Great Dane, (and then back again, just to make sure that nothing remained un-crumpled), is a great fan of causing chaos, tearing things down, shaking things up, and generally treating Government as a giant tumble dryer. Advertise for misfits and weirdos to work at 10 Downing Street and you get people like Sabisky. Although the invitation to apply, which appeared in Cummings’ blog, suggested that Whitehall was too full of Oxbridge types (Cummings himself went to Exeter College Oxford), the job spec demanded that candidates should have gone to the ‘top universities’ with the best degrees. Like Sabisky.

At some point, a quick check would have discovered that Sabisky not only wrote about Eugenics in 2014, but also in 2016, where he gave a big hello to  the benefits of a so-called cognitive enhancer, which could prove fatal, but was ‘probably worth a dead kid once a year’. But either no one did check, or they did check and liked what they saw. In any event, the shit hit the fan, and Sabisky resigned, moaning about being quoted out of context, as people always do when caught red-handed. No 10 itself refused to condemn Sabisky’s views although asked to do so no less than ten times. So who is next to qualify for Cummings’ super-squad? Katie Hopkins is not doing much these days, except tweeting and waiting for the next terrorist outrage so she can have a go at Mayor Sadiq Khan (she only went to Sandhurst, but flexibility is all when getting the right people). David Irving is still knocking about somewhere. Hey, he is 81, but why be ageist? There is a rich vein of misfits and weirdos just waiting to saunter up Downing Street to join the ones inside……

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Let us begin the survey of the week’s sartorial shipwrecks with young actress Anna Taylor-Joy, promoting her new movie Emma, wearing Halpern.

Those footsies are deeply disturbing, like a tap-dancing leopard. And why is she wearing a bin bag?

This is comedienne Katherine Ryan wearing Millia London.

Wozzis? She looks like an exploded tomato in leather boots. It’s so….BIG. And that belt is really, really horrible.

We are at the BRIT Awards in London where a variety of people appeared in ridiculous clothing. Like singer and actor Harry Styles wearing Gucci.

Miss Marple goes to the Brits.  All her detective skills will be required to discover who put Harry into a shirt with a lacy collar, a puce sweater and a string of pearls.

Here is singer Ashley Roberts wearing Celia Kritharioti.

When  your handbag is bigger than your top, you need more top. Not that it is a top, more of a sparkling bandage and matching groin glitter, like a Broadway Showgirl in times gone by.

This is serial offender singer Ellie Goulding, wearing Koche.

Well this is a right Koche-up. The dress is not so much ragged as hanging on for dear life and Ellie needs to let Rentokil loose on her closets and look snappy about it. Meanwhile, there is also an excess of side boob. Any sudden movement and a waiter would have needed to replace the newly-liberated item with a warm spoon.

Last from the Brits Red Carpet,  singer Jorja Smith, wearing Jean-Paul Gaultier .

The colours are great, and WTF could even have lived with the matching boots. But not with the shadow of death around the minge and running down her inner thighs. Yurgle.

Here we are at a BRIT afterparty at the ballsachingly hip Chiltern Firehouse, attended by singer Charli XCXwearing Minge Maestro Julien Macdonald.

This is of course very typical of Julien’s oeuvre.  It would seem that Charli was in an aviary and some sort of bird flu wiped out many of our feathered friends. Charli just happened to be covered with glue at the time and the dead birdies moulted onto her. WTF is also bound to point out that it was bloody cold in London last week and this is definitely not what you want to be wandering around in on a chilly evening. Brrrr…..

We are back in New York with actor Jon Hamm wearing Tom Ford.

Fuck me. It’s Robocop in a polo-neck sweater. And those trousers are tighter than a camel’s jockstrap in a sandstorm.

And still in New York at New York Fashion Week, we conclude with singer Tinashe, wearing Laquan Smith at the designer’s show.

We have come full circle from Anna to Tinashe, only Tinashe is much, much, worse. If a leopard went to a fancy dress party as a pole dancer flashing her all, this is what she would look like. Mingetastic. 

This week’s It’s Got To Go is from outraged Royal subjects various, of whom WTF of Islington is one,  who were forced to listen to the bells at Westminster Abbey chiming yesterday to mark the 60th birthday of nonce’s friend Prince Andrew. There may well be a few people outside his immediate family who were willing to wish Andrew Happy Birthday, but most of them are probably behind bars. Everyone else feels that his ridiculous defence of his friendship with erstwhile mate Jeffrey Epstein, coupled with his failure to assist the District Attorney’s office in New York with their enquiries into the deceased, means that he is beyond the pale and does not deserve any public tribute, particularly in the week that Prince Harry has been told not to make any use of his Royal status. It is enough to make you sick and It’s Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your comments, which will bring cheer to WTF in these dark times, and please don’t forget your super suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x