It is an understatement to say that this has been one hell of a week, as if the world had fallen into a food mixer with the lid off, spattering disaster in every direction. Over the weekend, the UK was hit by three storms in succession, bringing the usual pot pourri of wind, rain, floods, trees falling, trains cancelled, people stranded, lorries upended and rivers bursting their banks. One could only wonder when the frogs and lice would arrive.
On Monday, Boris Johnson announced Freedom 2022-style, so that meant that citizens are now permitted to infect fellow citizens with whatever variant is running rampant at the time. No masks. No self-isolation after a positive diagnosis. We were told that we do not need legislation to make people behave responsibly. To which WTF can only observe that Johnson has clearly not been on a tube or a bus recently, suffering the hot breath of others on his neck. But then, as we know, Johnson is not a great one for observing rules, not even the ones he himself laid down for others to follow. Tory MPs greeted this announcement as if it were VE Day 1945, with well-fed, red-faced men from the shires extolling the government’s management of the pandemic, completely overlooking the enormous number of deaths we suffered, the billions of pounds spaffed up the wall on inadequate PPE, not to mention the $32 bn which went walkies from the budget for Track and Trace. Meanwhile Her Majesty the Queen, shortly to celebrate her 96th birthday, marked Freedom Day 2022 by going down with Covid and has confined herself to ‘light duties’.
On Tuesday, Johnson was back in the House of Commons to announce sanctions against the Russians who were clearly on the brink of invading Ukraine. The sanctions consisted of banning 3 oligarchs, two of whom don’t live here anyway, and taking some rudimentary measures against a couple of Russian banks no one has ever heard of.
To the surprise of absolutely no one, these measly steps did nothing to dissuade Vladimir Putin from invading Ukraine in the early hours of Thursday morning. Not just to ‘protect’ two newly independent republics which only he recognises, but to destroy Ukraine so that bombs are falling on the outskirts of Kiev. Over in the United States, Donald Trump praised Putin for being ‘savvy’ and described the Ukraine as ‘a large piece of land with many people in it’, as if he were marketing a new golf course. There has been not a word of criticism from Trump and his acolytes, (Nigel Farage included, who managed to blame NATO and the EU) about the invasion because, as we all know, Trump loves a brutal dictator. Which is why the Leader of the Republican Party, a party which hounded alleged communists in the 1950s and 1960s, and which continues to dismiss any form of civilised social care as socialism, now refuses to denounce mass murder and open aggression.
God knows what will happen on Friday and over the weekend. Chaos and madness have descended upon us, and it does not look as it will abate any time soon.
We need light relief, so we start our review of the week’s fashion flotsam with Foreign Secretary Liz Truss wearing something frightful.
WTF had this brought to her attention by aficionados Sonia and, separately, Annette, and both were rightly aghast. Unlike the PM, who cultivates his tramp-who-has-broken-into-a-charity-shop-and-raided-the-gents-clothes-rail-look, Liz fancies herself as a fashionista, which will be news to anyone contemplating her horrible maroon wash’n’wear trouser suit with ill-fitting trousers like jodhpurs, the wrong length jacket and what appear to be galoshes. Meanwhile, someone should tell Liz that women are not allowed to be Freemasons. Why she has rolled up her right trouser leg, Heaven alone knows.
To London Fashion Week, where we find singer and TV personalitee Tallia Storm wearing Oh Polly! at the eponymous fashion show.
Tallia has taken to going out in see-through body stockings, but this one resembles a particularly virulent outbreak of eczema. Memo to Tallia. Stop it. And buy a nicer flesh coloured bra, one that is actually the colour of your flesh, fake-tanned or otherwise, and a bigger pair of matching panties.
Meet actor Amy Jackson at the Evening Standard Magazine relaunch party, wearing Miscreants.
Ah, the saucy French maid look, only this time with matching gloves that seem to be trimmed with dinosaur scales. Is Amy auditioning for a remake in Allo ‘Allo?
And a welcome return to the blog for singer Paloma Faith at a London Fashion Week party wearing something deeply weird.
WTF can only assume that Paloma was dressed in this way in order to show solidarity with the people of the Ukraine. Because she cannot think of any other reason why anyone would appear in public like this……
And here is actor Olga Kurylenko at the Oswald Boateng show, wearing Gavin Rajah.
If a roll of damask had sex with Oscar the Grouch, this is what their love child would look like.
And now to the London premiere of the umpteenth version of Batman with actor Andy Serkis wearing something deeply weird.
Here we are in Madrid at a photocall for the movie Compendia Official with Spanish actor and Oscar-nominee Penelope Cruz, wearing Chanel.
Chanel!!!! Seriously? This is a mixture of a housecoat and a slanket and it is perfectly foul. And it is puce. Why is puce making a comeback? The only place for it is in the bin. Recently we saw Vicky McClure in puce and now the lovely Penelope. Enough!!
Finally, here is actor Nicole Kidman on the cover of Vanity Fair wearing Miu Miu.
This is one of the worst things WTF has ever seen. Nicole is 54 years old and a mother of daughters aged 11 and 13. Although this photo sees her more touched up than someone at a pervert’s party, she is beautiful, as slender as a reed and she is up for an Oscar- again. She has no need to go out and about dressed as a Britney Spears tribute act.
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado, nay staple, Leslie from Lisson Grove, who waxes with his usual eloquence on the Covid-era phenomenon of talking heads on TV being interviewed on Zoom/Webex/Skype.
Leslie say ‘I can understand why football managers and footballers find the need to stand in front of a board of sponsors – they need to earn their corn. BUT. I’m growing tired of news broadcast interviewees standing in front of an immaculate ‘styled’ bookcase. Are we to believe they all read Proust, Bronte, Dostoyevsky, and the like on a daily basis? Are we also to believe that the cutesy, mixy-matchy arrangements of subtly toned ornaments, awards, and flora (even their offsprings’ finger-painting all appear to be done with Farrow & Ball testers) just found themselves there by accident? Just buy a Zoom backdrop and get over yourself!
Yup. To which WTF would add the habit of authors turning their own books face on to the camera, which is really, really, wanky. It’s Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please keep those comments coming in as they make WTF more cheery than a cheery thing feeling cheery. And of course, your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again on Friday. Be good x