Hallo Readers,

Watching Dominic Raab give evidence to the House of Commons Foreign Affairs Committee this week was further proof, not that proof is required, that competence, diligence and a mastery of the facts are no longer essentials on a ministerial job specification. Raab was questioned by MPs of all parties but either failed to answer them or waffled on with a word salad that, insofar as it could be understood at all, seemed to have nothing to do with the price of fish. He was clearly irritated at having to explain his disastrous handling of the Afghanistan crisis, despite the fact that this is the raison d’etre of such committees – to ask probing questions and to get detailed answers. Or, in this case, not to get them.

Raab has never been big on detail. When Brexit Secretary, he admitted that he had not read the whole of the Good Friday Agreement, which is rather like a surgeon going into a viva and admitting that he had not finished Gray’s Anatomy. On this occasion, a steely Tom Tugendhat, this year’s unlikely hero, asked Raab about a report dated 22 July 2021 which had warned  that “Peace talks are stalled and US Nato withdrawal is resulting in rapid Taliban advances. This could lead to: fall of cities, collapse of security forces, Taliban return to power, mass displacement and significant humanitarian need. The embassy may need to close if security deteriorates.” Raab bristled like a hedgehog and inquired where Tugendhat had got that information, only to receive the reply “it’s your principal risk report”. Which clearly indicated that Robb had either not read it or had read it but had been untroubled by its contents. Either way, when a few weeks later the Taliban cut through the hapless Afghan Army like a hot knife through butter, Raab was to be found sprawled on a sun lounger in Crete working on his tan. The opprobrium he faced as a result still rankles and although his tan may be fading, his indignation at being questioned is undimmed. He refused to answer questions about when he had left for his holiday in Greece and was shirty at the suggestion that he had cocked up by failing to come home early. Apology was there none. Details were scanty. Figures explaining who was left behind were vague. Names of counterpart Foreign Ministers  with whom he had spoken, and the dates he had spoken to them, were unparticularised. The only real display of animation came when he accused Labour Committee Members asking impertinent questions like “why did you not evacuate the British Embassy earlier?” of setting a political ambush. It was as striking a display of ineptitude and unfitness for office as we have seen for some time, even from this shit-show of a Government.

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We start our review of the week’s awful apparel with actress Zolee Griggs wearing Prabal Gurung. 

Zolee describers herself as a “humanitarian.” She will need all that saintliness and goodwill to mankind to forgive whoever it was who thought it was a good idea to put her into this ridiculous outfit, which seems to be the lovechild of a romper suit and a pair of dice.

Next up, we have presenter  and talent judge Alesha Dixon at the LGBT Awards in London, wearing Attico.

Alesha clearly has a thing about pink. This time, she is putting the shocking into shocking pink. The shoulders are taking us back to 1980, which is where they should have stayed, the skirt is, as ever, too short and the turd topknot is like something a pervy Aladdin would have worn. Dismal.

Also present was singer Pixie Lott, wearing Nue.

The sandals are yummy but she has forgotten her skirt and the jacket has tit goggles. And Pixie is proof positive of a WTF Golden Rule  –  if  you have to hold your  handbag in front of your minge, there  is  something  wrong with your outfit. And with you for wearing  it.

Here we are in LA where we meet actor Kevin Quinn at the premiere of Cinderella, wearing Alexander McQueen.

Kevin is giving WTF a headache just by looking at him. He is very swirly with a skull and crossbones on his crotch.  And is that a gun holster?

To Venice, where a variety of celebritees assembled to wear borrowed Dolce & Gabbana clobber, beginning with Kourtney Kardashian and her beau, drummer Travis Barker.

These two are really annoying. She is wearing a sheer shower curtain over a bra and thong, a flower instead of a belt and her boyfriend’s hand on her tit. Travis is a Lurch lookalikey and while his suit is rather elegant, he is in hiking boots (gosh, his feet are HUGE!!!!) and without a shirt, not even of any kind. Meanwhile, WTF hates a tattooed head even more than she hates a tattooed neck, which is an awful lot of hate. 

Also there to share the glam was actor January Jones.

Not content with more frills than a toilet doll on acid, D&G has added sparkly tits, diamanté straps and the most vulgar belt ever in the history of ever.

And finally, we have singer Bebe Rexha.

A few pictures ago, we had Lurch and Morticia from the Addams Family and here is the lovely Bebe looking as if she has been recently exhumed, complete with a head full of rats’ tails and, for reasons that are not entirely clear, a Minge Butterfly. 

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from many appalled WTF aficionados, with Sarah from Lancaster first across the line. Their nominations? Yes of course, it’s Michael Gove, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, strutting his stuff in an Aberdeen nightclub at 2 am last Saturday night.

Look. If  Gove wants to shake it all about, so be it. He is a (newly) single man and wants to have fun. BUT (i) NO ONE goes raving in a suit (ii) he looks like a dork and (iii) reports from the club say that Michael is a schnorrer who tried to get in for free rather than paying a fiver like everybody else. As WTF aficionado Yvonne put it, It’s Got To Gove.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep those splendid suggestions coming in for It’s Got To Go, not to mention your top comments. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x