We live in an age in which charity, selflessness and generosity are met with cynicism. And so it is that when the royal formerly known as HRH Prince Andrew gave a woman whom he had never met £12 million for the benefit of her charity for trafficked and sexually abused women, he was showered with obloquy and allegations of all sorts of naughtiness, rather than being lauded as the decent chap people know him to be. The fact that those people consist only of himself, his ex-wife, the toe-sucking schnorrer and professional car crash that is the Duchess of York, and a couple of iffy potentates from places that used to be part of the Soviet Union, is nothing to the point.
It is generally accepted that Andrew is not an adornment to the House of Windsor. He is widely regarded by those who have the misfortune to know him as arrogant, strong willed and thick, in addition to being immensely priapic and boring as hell. For some reason which remains entirely opaque to virtually everybody with a brain cell, Andrew is the apple of his mother’s eye, and for decades he has been indulged in his every whim. In recent years stories have abounded about his rudeness to staff and his deep seated conviction that he is above advice. Only a complete idiot, which he is, would have kept company with a notorious paedophile, failing to notice the harem of post- pubescent girls coming in and out of Jeffrey Epstein’s bedroom like a fiddlers elbow. Only a complete moron, which he is, would have renewed the acquaintance after Epstein was released from prison after serving time for child sex offences, jetting off to his pal’s palatial Manhattan mansion to say bye bye to him – over four days. And only someone thicker than double dog-shit, which he is, would have gone on television to be interviewed by one of the BBC’s finest, make a complete and total fool of himself and yet walk out of the room proudly telling his acolytes that he thought the whole thing had gone rather well. Since then he has been stood down from royal duties, stripped of his HRH title, and denied the various military roles that allowed him to appear in public bedecked with medals and looking like something out of a Ruritanian wedding photo. Having promised to cooperate with the FBI in their investigations into the activities of Epstein and his Madame, Andrew’s friend Ghislaine Maxwell, his phone seem to have gone dead to any transatlantic calls and when Virginia Roberts, now Guiffre, sued him for civil assault in having sex with her when she was only 17 and trafficked across the Atlantic, he dodged service of the writ. He then attempted to have the case thrown out for lack of service before his lawyers embarked upon an enthusiastic slut-shaming exercise and raised a number of arguments in court for which the word specious would be kind. When all of this failed, and a trial loomed, Andrew had no option but to dosh up – or to get someone else to do so. He may argue that it was to save Mummy embarrassment in her 70th jubilee year, but no one believes him. The arcane workings of American jurisprudence are beyond most of us, whether legally qualified or not. But 99.99999% of the British public will take the view that you do not pay £12 million to someone you say you have never met, and never had sex with. He has sunk as low as he can go and he is now thankfully condemned to dwell in the obscurity to which he so clearly belongs. Good Riddance.
Things have certainly changed since Torvill and Dean. WTF was astonished to notice that garb for this year’s competitors appeared to be involve flashing very large amounts of chest, bum and tummy, but these two (who, by the way are very good indeed), went overboard on the costumes and ended up looking like something out of the Tango adverts, but with added bunting.
February is the NFL Super Bowl in the USA. WTF loathes American Football which is a legal excuse to assault other people with maximum prejudice whilst simultaneously boring the bejesus out of you. The Super Bowl is an excuse to have loads of parties attended by underdressed and/or badly dressed personages, some of whom are featured here for our appalled delectation. We begin with NFL footballer Aaron Jones of the Green Bay Packers at the NFL Honors.
Those trousers are the absolute pits, starting out as snug on the hips and over the goolie department and then tapering around the calves like Edwardian knickerbockers. As he is carrying his phone in his hand, one shudders to think what he has stashed in the pockets…..
Next, we have the artiste who performed at the Super Bowl, singer Mary J Blige, arriving wearing who knows what?
This does at least have the merit of being better than her showtime blingtastic outfit, but it is still fantastically OTT, Pussy in Boots with a side order of Minge.
And of course here is Heidi Klum at a Rolling Stone Super Bowl party wearing – if that is the word I am thinking of, which it probably isn’t – Dundas.
The word tacky has insufficient nuance. This left classy about fifty miles down the road and is currently refuelling at tacky-de-luxe. If a yeti went to a fancy dress party as a latticework blueberry pie with tits, this is what it would look like.
And here we have singer Beyoncé wearing Off White, D&G and Levis at the Super Bowl.
Because of course this is what you wear to watch an NFL game on a hot night in LA (it was 90 degrees F). Bey may think she is the bees’ knees, but sadly the whole look dates backs to when the WAGS invaded Baden Baden in 2006.
Here we are in Disneyland with celebrity son Jaden Smith and new girlfriend, model Sab Zada, on Valentine’s Day.
The best thing that can be said about Jaden is that he is not quite as pointless as Brooklyn Beckham, but that is like saying that salad cream is not as bad as sandwich paste. His jacket and shirt combo look like a kaleidoscope threw up over him while Sab, who is a Daenerys Targaryen lookalikey. is clad in an ill-fitting boob tube last seen on Bianca Jagger in 1982 and cameltoe pink jeans that would make a dromedary blush.
Finally, we are at the Goya Film Awards in Madrid where we meet actor Eduardo Casanova. wearing Man Concept.
Seriously? Violet Elizabeth Bott goes to the movies…..
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Sarah from Lancaster who has drawn WTF’s attention to an appalling new phenomenon, circle beards. And is she wrong?
What the fuck do these men think they look like? Have they had a mudpack facial and forgotten to wipe off the residue? Lads. Whoever told you that you look good is not your friend. Trust WTF on this one. It’s Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. WTF keeps asking you to send in your comments to stop her fretting. BUT YOU DON’T. Are you completely heartless? And don’t forget your splendid suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good. x