So weeks after anyone who knew anything about anything knew that this was going to be big, and that it was going to be bad, and that the best way to avoid it was to stay indoors for the foreseeable future, the British Government decided that this was going to be big and that it was going to be bad, and that the best way to avoid it was to stay indoors for the foreseeable future. But only after it had spent a couple of weeks pursuing a policy that the old, the broken down, the disadvantaged, and the not completely well, would be hauled off to the knackers yard and save the NHS a fortune. And then it spent another week telling people that it would be awfully nice if they were to stay indoors and keep out of the way of the virus, whereupon a large number of people kept going to work on crowded tube trains and buses, and going out to dinner, and boozing in the pub, and enjoying the spring sunshine in groups, and engaging in man to man combat in the supermarket aisles for that last bottle of Flash and that last packet of disinfectant wipes, with everyone coughing all over each other in close proximity. On Monday, the Government finally ordered people to stay indoors, save for walking the dog, visiting your sick relatives and engaging in man to man combat in the supermarket aisles for that last bottle of Flash and that last packet of disinfectant wipes. Whereupon a large number of people kept going to work on crowded tube trains and buses, and boozing in parks, and enjoying the spring sunshine in groups, with joggers running six inches away from you as you walk the dog, instead of six feet, and engaging in man to man combat in the supermarket aisles for that last bottle of Flash and that last packet of disinfectant wipes with everyone coughing all over each other in close proximity. And the death rate keeps rising, and the NHS staff still can’t get tested for the virus they are treating everyone for, and hospitals are running out of personal protective equipment and ventilators because the Government didn’t get around to ordering any weeks ago, when everyone who knew anything about anything knew that this was going to be big and that it was going to be bad.
In such circumstances, with most of the country still in their pyjamas until lunchtime, the main activities have been:
- getting up at 4 am to nab that Ocado delivery slot five weeks hence,
- abusing the fat cats who made millions off the work force, but who prefer not to pay their wages and so have laid them off,
- wallowing in buckets of schadenfreude that Prince Charles has got the virus, although fortunately still in good health,
- banging dustbins in praise of the NHS workers whose health and welfare they have imperilled by behaving like selfish bastards for weeks on end, and
- getting very worked up when they see a celebritee trending on Twitter, only to find that they haven’t actually died, but have said something stupid or joined with other celebrities in caterwauling some uplifting ballad on YouTube.
And this is only five days in……..Stay safe everyone.
Look Readers, let me be frank. Hardly any bugger is going out. There is no red carpet. Life is tough for a piss-taking fashion blogger in such circumstances. WTF is put in mind of Evelyn Waugh’s Vile Bodies, where a newspaper gossip columnist, aka Mr Chatterbox, commits suicide after libelling everyone who is anyone in London Society. As a result, and some sixty-odd writs later, the new Mr Chatterbox, Adam Fenwick-Symes, is reduced to making people up, including a Count Cincinnati who wears a bottle green bowler hat. Readers, things have not got quite as bad as that, but WTF has had to cast the net wide this week, although there have been some surprisingly rich pickings.
We start our review of the week’s corona chic with epidemiologist, Professor Chris Whitty, a stalwart of of many of the Prime Ministerial briefings.
Look, the prof is a busy man, handling the Nation’s coronavirus outbreak. WTF gets that. But that is no excuse for looking like a sack of shit. That shirt is not fresh on. The collar its a disgrace – as WTF aficionado Andrew commented, he is wearing a size 17 collar on a size 14 neck. And the tie is manky. If he cannot do better than this, then let him come to the press briefings in scrubs and be done with it. That is, if he can find any.
Frankly at this point, we would all like him to don a face mark, one made out of sticky tape covering his mouth. Instead, he has chosen to don an eye mask while spray tanning, or whatever he does to get to that hue, making him appear to be peering out from inside an overripe pumpkin. How can he actually think that he looks good like this?
Next up, we have Real Housewife of New Jersey Melissa Gorga nipping down to the mailbox in face mask, surgical gloves and gym kit.
That driveway is very Anthony Soprano, but the mask is more Anthony Hopkins in The Silence of the Lambs.
To Slovakia, where we find its Prime Minister Zuzana Čaputová wearing Kuzmi.
Is that face mask germ-proof? She looks like a magenta bank robber with colour coordinated footwear. And with respect, Madam Prime Minister, you probably needed to take a size up.
And here she is again, celebritee Lauren Goodger, popping down the shops.
As WTF aficionado Susie observed, Lauren is the gift that keeps on giving…. everything fake and protruding, Chanel handbag chain slung over her enormous breasts like a mountaineer’s climbing rope, and a yashmak like a Turkish pantomime princess.
Finally, we have singer and producer Erikah Badu, wearing Louis Vuitton.
Oh please…. an LV hazmat suit? And why does she have a pair of Pomeranians on her feet?
This week’s It’s Got To Go is from WTF aficionado, Michael from Sydney, who is aghast at these foul, fully insulated, sleeping bag onesies with built in camel toe.
Yours for only AUS$49 95. Can you get the virus from grass? Whatever, It’s Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments, which gladden WTF’s heart, and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x