On Thursday, the UK death toll had risen to over 30,000, but that did not stop the British press from titillating cabin-feverish citizens that the end of the strict lockdown was in sight. They urged Boris Johnson to permit people to go and about, partaking of picnics, and sunbathing on the sands where they could bare their pasty white bits and pieces coram publico, not to mention contracting serious sunburn while getting pissed in the pub garden. But whether they had received a bum steer from their unnamed sources in Whitehall and Westminster, or, more likely, that this shit-show of a Government changed its mind (again), it now appears that caution will not be thrown to the winds just yet, and although we may be allowed to visit a few family members outside our immediate households, er. that will be it. Citizens can at least take comfort from the fact that Johnson was due to address the Nation on Sunday afternoon, at the end of what is likely to be an uncharacteristically warm and sunny Bank Holiday weekend, and by Monday the weather will again be cool and damp, making the prospect of eating sausage rolls and Russian salad al fresco rather less appealing.
The right wing papers are positively rabid in their determination to get us off the sofa and out and back to work, presumably on the basis that people are furloughed and that smacks of socialism. The working class should be working, not watching Homes Under the Hammer. According to the DailyMail, we are all suffering from ‘coronaphobia’, whereas people would just prefer not to have to go to work on crowded trains and buses, there to contract a potentially deadly virus. First we were told to stay at home because it is dangerous to go out, and now we are being excoriated for staying at home because we think it is dangerous to go out. It is time to find a scapegoat, and as it cannot be the sainted Boris, who cheated death to lead us out of this chaos, it has to be the people who are not at work because they were told not to go, and the scientists who advised us that there needed to be a lockdown in the first place.
Which brings us to Professor Neil Ferguson, whose pandemic projections prompted the stay-at-home policy. It appears that the Professor, or the ‘Bonking Boffin’ as The Sun has christened him, had allowed his lover twice to come round to his house for a bit of the other. Better still, she was a married woman!! And in an open marriage!! And living with her husband in a house worth £1.9 million!! (not when the recession hits, it won’t be). What better to distract us from the rising death rate, and the useless Government and its flip-flop policies than a brainy bloke having a shag with a married woman who lives in a posh house? As a result whereof, all this week we have heard from the Professor (who has now quit his job advising HMG), and from friends of the lover, and from the Professor’s estranged wife, and from his mother-in-law, 79-year-old Elsie Pirie, who stuck up for him, and probably the milkman and the bloke who runs the corner shop at the end of his road, but WTF had long stopped reading about it by then because she couldn’t give a stuff about Professor Ferguson and his sex life, and she knows the ultimate dead cat bounce when she sees it. Let us have less about the Professor and pub gardens, and more about the 30,000 victims and why they died, and how the rest of us are to stay alive. Because that, Readers, is more important.
This week’s fashion retrospective has been requested by WTF aficionado Honsa from West London, who wants to be reminded of the serious fashion faux pas committed by actress Salma Hayek. What makes matters so much worse is that Salma is married to French billionaire François-Pierre Pinault, who in effect owns Gucci, Yves St Laurent, Alexander McQueen, Balenciaga, Christopher Kane, Stella McCartney, and Bottega Veneta. You would think that Salma would be the first in line for the pick of their designs, and yet she usually looks dreadful. Perhaps part of the problem is that most of these lines design for stick insects, rather than for Salma’s magnificent embonpoint. But as WTF has remarked on a precious occasion, she always seems to end up with the runt of the litter.
We start in March 2015 with Salma attending the Alexander McQueen exhibition Savage Beauty at London’s Victoria & Albert Museum, wearing McQueen.
The dress was certainly striking, but Salma looked very unhappy in it, probably by reason of the fact that many swans seemed to have died in vain and that two peacocks were using her chest to carry out their mating ritual. And you know what rutting peacocks sound like. Meanwhile, Salma’s stance made her look as if she was desperate for the loo.
Here we are in October 2015, with Salma wearing Bottega Veneta.
No really, what WAS this? It resembled an old army camouflage tent pitched somewhere in the Falklands and it was downright dog-ugly. (Sorry, doggies).
Now we find ourselves in November 2016, where Salma attended the London premiere I Am Bolt, wearing Gucci.
Had Usain caught sight of Salma, he certainly would have bolted, and given how fast he can run, he would probably got as far as Wimbledon in his attempt to get away from this ridiculous and ill-fitting John Lennon look-a-likey ensemble.
Next, we are in May 2017 at the Cannes Film Festival where Salma was wearing Gucci.
Every part of this outfit would have to be have improved 100% just to get to putrid, from the ‘Gosh, I’m stoned, I’ve got the spins’ kaleidoscopic flared-led jumpsuit, to the ridiculous brothel-creeper sneakers, to the horrible handbag, to the silly sunglasses. It is no surprise that Salma ended up as a nominee for the coveted title of the 2017 Summer Stinker.
November 2017 found Salma at The Los Angeles County Museum of Art aka LACMA, which was hosting its Seventh Annual Art+Film Gala. Obviously, she was wearing Gucci,
Her hair and makeup were beautiful, but not only was this somewhat snug around the tit department, but the fabric looked like the spillage from a bottle of the sort of cheap iridescent nail varnish you find in pound shops.
In March 2018, Salma attended the Oscars, wearing Gucci.
Last year, the Internet went crazy over the new phenomenon of the washing machine cover, the silliest thing since the Australians thought up a frilly cover to cover their clothes driers for garden parties and weddings. Clearly whoever dreamed this up had caught sight of Salma the previous year. As for Gucci, it was obviously influenced by Rousseau’s observation that ‘Man is born free and everywhere he is in chains’.
And finally, we find ourselves in January 2020 in London, where Salma was out and about in yet more Gucci.
If Ozzy Osbourne went to a fancy dress party as Mr Toad, this is what he would have looked like.
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado and stalwart Leslie from London who is fed up with pandemic car ads. Leslie says ‘Before the pandemic, advertisers would say…. for example…. “Buy an Audi” Now it’s a rather soft focus Scottish accent, the sort of voice a 1950s methodist minister would use for a funeral. And it goes….. “We know these are difficult and uncertain times, but we want you to know that we are here for you. Now buy an Audi”
It’s Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep those comments rolling in and your nominations both for It’s Got To Go and for celebrities whose clothing choices meriting a fashion retrospective. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good, STAY INDOORS AND AND WASH YOUR HANDS x