Hallo Readers,

 No sooner had the new Prime Minister Liz Truss unpacked her dismal array of wash’n’wear dresses in the Master Bedroom of 11 Downing Street than Her Majesty the Queen Shuffled off this mortal coil. This meant that all political dispute was suspended for the 10 day period of official mourning. While the downside of this was that the Nation had to put up with non-stop wall-to-wall Royal Verbiage from obsequious black-clad courtiers, so-called experts, has-beens, never-weres and nonentities, the upside was that we were given a respite from bloviating politicians evading the important questions of what, if anything, the Government intended to do to solve the various crises which we face; for example, that the cost of living has soared, gas and electricity bills have quadrupled and you have more chance of taking tea with Elvis Presley than catching a glimpse of your GP or dentist. But after Her Majesty was interred on Monday, political life resumed and it became clear that Truss was sailing full steam ahead into the horizons of tax cuts, persecution of those who do not or cannot work full time, fracking and platitudes. On Wednesday, Jacob Rees Mogg, now ludicrously Secretary of State for Business, suggested that those people who opposed fracking were in the pay of the Russians. This went down like a cup of cold sick with backbench Tory MPs, who now have to explain to their constituents why the earlier promise that no fracking would take place without their consent is no longer operative.  On Thursday, Therese Coffey launched her new plan for the NHS, which is basically to overload chemists and shame doctors into doing longer hours. There does not appear to be any additional money, particularly because on Friday, Chancellor Kwazi Kwarteng intends to repeal the raise in National Insurance implemented only months earlier and to allow companies and rich people to keep more of their money. In particular, the Chancellor will go the extra mile for those in society who really need his help and who have been struggling to make ends meet in this age of growing austerity. No, not those on a low income. Bankers whose bonuses have been capped. And if that sounds deranged, go onto Google and witness Kwarteng’s extraordinary performance in the pews at Westminster Abbey on Monday, where he wriggled about like a man suffering from St Vitus dance and appeared to laugh uproariously to himself up for no reason. Even Suella Braverman was appalled. If an ordinary person had behaved like that in public, the men in white coats would have been called. As long as you were prepared to wait 12 hours or more for them to appear.

 As for Truss, she went from the Abbey straight to the UN in New York to continue hobnobbing with the world’s leaders. Not that most of them probably knew who she was. During Monday’s obsequies, the commentator from Australian television failed to recognise her and described her as a minor Royal. Were that the case, at least she would have been better dressed. Even before landing  in the Big Apple, Truss was forced to admit that the chances of a trade deal with the US in the near or further-away future was on the unlikely side of impossible, Joe Biden and Congress being of the view that if Britain was going to renege on the Good Friday Agreement, it did not deserve, and would not get, a deal, not even of any kind. Of course those people who made this point and opposed Brexit during the 2016 Referendum, including a certain Liz Truss, were branded as purveyors of Project Fear. Except that what they said was true. Who knew? Answer – anyone with a brain.

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We start our review of the week’s wanky wear with Liz Truss wearing Reiss at Queen Elizabeth’s funeral.

In the same way as she committed acts of grievous bodily harm upon the King James Bible in her “reading” during the ceremony (a stuffed parrot would have given it more welly), Truss manages to suck the life out of anything she wears, which is always cheap-looking, ill-fitting, unflattering and boring as fuck, the sartorial equivalent of supermarket own-brand Ovaltine. As for the hat, it looks like someone immolated a pie and then put it on her head. Epic fail. Get the woman a stylist – STAT.

Also present were the Former Guy, Boris Johnson and his present wife Carrie Johnson. She is wearing a (rented) dress by Karen Millen, for which she paid £7, and a handbag worth over £2,500.

Here is a WTF rule. Tit activity does not belong at a funeral. Not even at all. Carrie Antoinette seems to be channelling the Gruesome Twosome Melania and Ivanka Trump in their Sicilian Widows garb when they met (a very unimpressed) Pope Francis in May 2017. Her husband  looks his usual repulsively dishevelled state, like an unmade bed with bugs in the mattress.

To New York Fashion Week where an array of horror awaited, beginning with singer Kanye West wearing whatever.

Oh Gawd. He looks as if he spent the afternoon washing trucks…

Next we have singer RAYE wearing Laquan Smith.

Yurgle.  If a labial elf went to a fancy dress party as a floozy, this is what it would look like.

And here is singer Madonna out and about in New York with a person young enough to be her grandson..

Quite apart from the fact that she resembles a prawn cocktail whose jeans have been through the shredder, Mads’ face evidences that there has been interference with the workings of nature. WTF has seen more movement in the Elgin Marbles.

He’s back! It’s actor Jared Leto wearing Gucci.

Merlin lives! In white socks and embroidered slides.

And finally, we are at the premiere of Bros with its star actor Debra Messing wearing Christian Siriano. Deep breath now….

Debra, who is 54, seems to have gambolling in a floral meadow, having first mated with a black sheep. Which said sheep ate the flowers off her back.