Have you noticed how absolutely nothing works in this country anymore? It is so embarrassing. It is either too hot, or too cold, or the wrong sort of rain, or the wrong sort of snow, or the wrong sort of wind. But the result is always the same, namely things grind to a halt. Last week, in a heatwave of 39 degrees, the tarmac melted at Luton airport. Do you hear about the tarmac melting in O’Hare Airport in Chicago? Or Changi Airport in Singapore? Of course you don’t. But this is Britain 2022. Take the airports. What used to be a hop, skip and a jump to some European idyll is now a marathon akin to something undertaken by Phineas Fogg. You queue to check in your luggage, at which point you may have to bid it farewell for a prolonged period, perhaps forever. You queue to get through security, where you will find that eight scanning machines out of twelve are not operating. That is, of course, if your flight has not been cancelled between your locking the front door and climbing into an early morning taxi and arriving to join crowds of putative holiday makers in scenes resembling the evacuation of Paris in 1940. Then there are the ferries. It seems that those who voted for Brexit did not consider the old adage that ‘you have to be in it to win it’. As a result of the UK waving two fingers at our European friends, they are exacting their revenge by sending a limited number of gendarmes to go through your passport line by line at Dover or Folkestone, that is once you have survived a twelve-hour queue on the M20 or the M2, your kids screaming hysterically at the back and you and your partner screaming hysterically at the front, everyone in desperate need of a wee wee. By the time you set sail, it is nearly time to come home again. Or you might want to go by train. That is, if there are any. Even if the tracks have not melted like a fondue in the sizzling summer sunshine, the drivers, led by the splendid Mick Lynch, are often on strike, so you cannot let the train take the strain. You could stay in Blighty, where you will be royally ripped off by greedy Airbnb merchants and Basil Fawlty-type establishments in seaside resorts various, but in order to get there you will have to fill your car with petrol at two quid a litre and sit on the A 303 admiring Stonehenge for hours on end, your kids screaming hysterically at the back and you and your partner screaming hysterically at the front, everyone in desperate need of a wee wee.
Meanwhile there appears to be no Government to speak of, not even of any kind. You have not heard a word from the Prime Minister or the Chancellor, and the Foreign Secretary is busy running around the country imitating a Dalek on Mogadon, the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport is busy insulting the Foreign Secretary’s rival’s footwear and the Secretary of State for Transport is far too busy to intervene in the train strike, or the tube strike, because it is not apparently his job. No one can afford to put the oven on while the owner of British Gas has just declared a four-fold profit for the last quarter. But Readers, do not despair! There is good news. Boris Johnson and Carrie Antoinette are celebrating their belated wedding on Saturday in some leafy corner of the Cotswolds. It is so nice to see that our Prime Minister still has his priorities straight.
We start our review of the week’s sartorial shite with Home Secretary (for now) Priti Patel at Glorious Goodwood races, wearing something frightful.
Patel’s politics are firmly rooted in the 1970s and it seems that her wardrobe is as well, like a cut-price Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, down to the brooch on the coat and pearls. Just shockingly shocking.
This is actor Gabrielle Union wearing Farai London.
She’s gorgeous, but this outfit is a dud, like a carrying harness for twins. It was also a recipe for tit slippage, which duly happened but WTF is sparing you the pic because life is traumatic enough….
Meanwhile, whoever that other lady is, she has forgotten her skirt and that is either a garter or a handbag, but it is unclear which.
To ComicCon in LA and comedian Alice Wetterlund wearing By Moumi.
This dress probably got a bigger laugh than any punchline Alice has ever delivered onstage. It is completely horrible, like a crinkled condom. And the back view is worse, with Alice flashing her bare bum-cheeks. Put them away, love, for Gawd’s sake.
To NYC and the opening night of the stage adaptation of the novel The Kite Runner where we find OITNB actor Laverne Cox, wearing Mugler.
Oh Laverne! Why are you allowing Mugler to do this terrible thing to you? Or why are you doing this terrible thing to yourself? Have you not heard of the word ‘no’? You have taken braver decisions in your life than declining to turn up at a Broadway premiere dressed as the Gimp from Pulp Fiction.
We are now at the Los Angeles premiere of House of the Dragon, the prequel of Games of Thrones, and this is actor Emily Carey wearing Givenchy. Brace yourselves.
If a polar bear auditioned for the Julia Roberts role in an ursine remake of Pretty Woman, this is what it would look like. And what’s with the bloomers?
Still in Los Angeles, we are now at the ESPYs, the Sports Awards, where we encounter American football quarterback Russell Wilson, who is wearing Dolce & Gabbana, and his wife, singer Chiara who is wearing Sabina Bilenko Couture.
Something has gone seriously awry with Russell’s trousers, which are concertina-ering around his thighs, although the jacket is excellent. As for his wife, she has apparently taken a couple of nursing pads and used them as tit coasters.
Why is she wearing a feather duster? She probably spent the night praying that no one crunched a canapé into the carpet or a member of the serving staff would have picked her up and put her to work sweeping up the crumbs.
And finally we have actor Alison Brie wearing Cavalli.
There is too much strappage and the effect of the flowers meandering over her minge is like a floral vajazzle. No wonder the poor love looks so haunted….
This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado Gita from Bromley, aka @MsAlliance. Gita says ‘do you know what’s got to go? Wearing just a bra as a top in public.’
She continues, ‘I have seen far too many of these this week. Goodness knows, I’m open-minded but just NO.. ‘ She is, as ever, right on the money. These two ladies above were ejected from a Wetherspoons pub for wearing unsuitable tops as tops. There is a difference between the beach and the boozer, the swimming pool and the street. It’s Got to Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Let us meet again next Friday. And keep those splendid suggestions coming in for It’s Got To Go, not to mention your top comments. Be good x.