WTF cannot trace her roots in England back to William the Conqueror. They do not even go back as far as William Gladstone. Her parental grandmother and grandfather were Jewish refugees. They came here from Poland at the beginning of the 20th century to avoid being killed in the pogroms. Luckily it was in a big ship which was seaworthy. They set up a draper’s shop in the East End of London and raised four sons, a bookkeeper, an industrial chemist, a solicitor and a doctor (WTF’s father). Had they stayed in Poland, they would probably have been murdered in another pogrom or, had they avoided that fate, they would have later died in a concentration camp.
WTF’s mother and her mother were also Jewish refugees. They came from Bessarabia which used to be part of Russia until it became part of Romania and is now Moldova. They fled to what was then British-administered Palestine via boat to Istanbul to avoid being killed in a rampage by the Iron Guard. Indeed, when they emerged from hiding in the cellars for a week before they left, they found the decapitated body of a friend on the street. Had they stayed, they would probably have been murdered in another rampage or, had they avoided that fate, they would have been died in a concentration camp. As they had relatives in Tel Aviv, they were lucky enough to get legal entry papers into Palestine, where they arrived safely in 1941, but many of their friends were not so lucky. In1942, they crammed onto a boat to Istanbul called the Struma, where it was detained by the Turkish authorities at the behest of the British, anxious to prevent too many Jews from entering Palestine. Eventually a handful of Jews with legal entry papers were allowed to disembark and travel overland to Palestine but the rest were forced to stay onboard with barely any food and to drift aimlessly on the High Seas until the ship was torpedoed by the Russian Navy and 800 people drowned. WTF mère, who got a job with the British Army in Tel Aviv, met and married WTF père, a captain in the Medical Corps, and they were repatriated to Blighty in 1946. WTF grandmère followed in 1948. They all died in their beds, having lived their lives.
My family members were escaping from death and mayhem. As were the people who drowned on Wednesday in their overcrowded, unseaworthy dinghy in the freezing cold Channel. Why else would they run away from their towns and their family to trudge through the darkness with their belongings on their back, that is if they were lucky enough to salvage any belongings at all? Why else would they set sail across in pitch black into one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world ? Why else would they spend all they have on dangerous boat trips run by scumbags? They were desperate. They saw their towns flattened. They feared torture and death. They did not wish to live under tyranny and chaos and religious fanaticism. In many cases the West had bombed their country, causing havoc, and then gone away, yet its citizens now criticise them for trying to escape that havoc. These were human beings with a history. They had reasons for risking their lives to save their lives. And it is not for £5 a day and a shitty hostel. What would you do in the same situation? Why can’t we show some basic humanity?
We change tone and begin our review of the week’s clothing crapulence at the Latin Grammys where we meet Haitian lawyer and beauty pageant winner, Saroj Bertin wearing Jovana Louis by Jovana Benoit.
Quite apart from the fact that her dress is putting horrified onlookers in fear of an imminent Minge Moment, which is bad, the bodice appears to be adorned with gold coving, which is worse. The sandals however, are good.
Next, we are at the Latin American Music Awards in Sunrise, Florida where we have another encounter with Brazilian singer Anitta, wearing David Koma.
An off the shoulder bralet with sleeves, which is patently not up to the task of encasing some improbable-looking tits, has been paired with an alleged skirt composed of a sparkly version of that stuff they put around bottles in off licences to prevent breakages.
The outfit makes Billy look like like a masseur in a swanky spa and the nipple-flash is frankly unnecessary. As for the thing on his head, at least he will not have to worry about leaving his brolly on the bus.
And here is model Winnie Harlow wearing Zuhair Murad.
It’s Mata Hari with no knickers on. The minge fringe is very confusing because frankly one is not sure what one is looking at…..
This is singer Kali Uchis wearing Dolce & Gabbana.
The robe is lovely. Such a pity that she did not either do it up or stay indoors, rather than venturing out dressed as Betty Boop in her scanties.
Cardi changed outfits ten times during the show, for which she was MC. This one really caught WTF’s eye, especially the lime-sunflower-titties with extra nipple activity and that thing growing out of her bellybutton.
And finally here is singer Halle Bailey wearing Laquan Smith.
Halle is very pretty but her dress is simply a lattice-work tit and tummy pie, while WTF is worried that her sandals will provoke a thrombosis.
This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado Leslie from Lisson Grove, prompted by last week’s from Daniel of Stevenage complaining about MP Michael Fabricant’s ridiculous hair. Leslie’s beef is with hair transplants. He says “Technically it sounds fine! Hair is taken from hirsute parts of the body (Arse! Armpit! Between the toes! Etc) and replanted to make a receding hair line retrace its steps. Transplanted is perhaps glossing over the pain involved – they dig a hole and put the rooted follicle in with a needle!!!! What could go wrong? I’ll tell you what can go wrong…… You end up looking like rows of carrots from Mr MacGregors kitchen garden have been planted on your head”.
Leslie, who is on a roll, continues “The other unsettling (temporary) side effect is that you have a badly bruised purple head for a couple of weeks while you wait to find out if your ‘procedure’ has taken!” Agreed. It’s Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Send in your suggestions coming in for It’s Got To Go, not to mention your very top comments. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x.