This week saw a public fracas between two people where the sentient public would be hard pressed to pick the most dislikable. In the blue corner, we have the 21st Century version of the Renaissance Man – Matt Hancock, politician, consumer of kangaroo-private-parts, love-rat and author of a recent book called something like ‘It Wasn’t My Fault, Honest’ in which he tries to convince a sceptical public that the Government’s catastrophic handling of the Covid Pandemic in 2020 was nothing to do with him, even though he was Secretary of State for Health at the time. In the bluer corner, we have journalist Isabel Oakeshott, the peroxide piranha, who, like Lorelei, the siren on the rocks, lures the gullible to their own destruction.
Why anyone with more than one braincell would trust Oakeshott with their Deliveroo order, let alone hand them over 100,000 personal WhatsApp messages, is a mystery, as when it comes to journalistic ethics, she always seems to have left them in her other handbag. This was the woman who persuaded Vicky Pryce, former and aggrieved wife of disgraced politician Chris Huhne, to tell her how Huhne, then a Government Minister, had persuaded someone else to take his driving points in order to avoid a ban. The trouble was, that person was Pryce, who duly ended up in prison after the DPP demanded to know Oakeshott’s source, which she handed over with alacrity, presumably to show her contempt of her right to protect her sources under the European Convention of Human Rights. Oakeshott was also the co-author of the biography of David Cameron which asserted, on very scant evidence, that Cameron had poked a (dead) pig’s head as part of an initiation ceremony at some posh Oxford University dining club. Despite this dubious record, and the fact that she was a known opponent of lockdown, the idiot Hancock chose her to help him write his account of his stint as Health Secretary which had come to a sudden end when, having told everyone else to stay indoors and stick to their family members, he was captured on CCTV at work canoodling with his Special Adviser, Gina Coladangelo, at which point he dumped Mrs Hancock and the little Hancocks and they set up home together. Last November, he went off to Oz to take part in ‘I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here’ and lost the Tory whip as a result. It was this action, claims Oakeshott, which led her to pass all 100,000 WhatsApp messages to the Daily Telegraph, the Boris Johnson Official fanzine, so upset was she at his abandoning her to write this book in his absence. These messages show Hancock ignoring advice to test everyone going in and out of care homes at the time on the grounds that there weren’t enough tests. Oakeshott also claims that her duty as a journalist was to break the story in the public interest. And if you believe that, you will believe anything.
As for Hancock, he was a fool to trust Oakeshott and it serves him right. He has now been caught with his trousers down twice in two years, once literally, one metaphorically. Far from throwing a ring of steel around care homes, he turned them into human petrie dishes, with underpaid carers going in and out untested with inadequate PPE, and either bringing Covid into the homes or taking it out with them and bringing it home to infect their loved ones. His weaselly book cannot disguise that fact – or the fact that PPE was short in the first place because his department had failed to stockpile enough to start with, leaving it running around like a headless chicken buying defective stuff from Pals of People in High Places, all of whom made a fortune as a result. As far as WTF is concerned, he and Oakeshott are both thoroughly shameless and they deserve each other. If we were to hear nothing about either of them ever again, it would be too soon.
We start our review of the week’s cringeworthy clothing with actor and writer Jordan Firstman wearing Aslan.
This vest and suit thing is going too far, and those trousers are not so much baggy as ballooning. If Charlie Chaplin went to a fancy dress party as Michael Jackson going to a fancy dress party dressed as Rab C Nesbitt, this is what he would look like.
And this is comedian Megan Stalter wearing something very silly.
And if Xena the Warrior Princess got her skirt caught in her knickers, this is what she would look like.
This is actor Jessica Frances Dukes, who was fab in the brilliant Ozark, wearing Marc Bouwer.
WTF feels compelled to suggest that Jessica might have done better had she taken that ridiculous ruff and used it to curtain off the giant tit window. As it is, her head seems to be peeking out of a bird’s arse.
This is Jessica Williams wearing Rosie Assoulin.
We have the full accoutrements of horror – under-boob, sheer and Minge Moment. The whole nine yards. This is essentially a fish tank, but in this case the tank contains not little fishies but Jessica swimming in a sea of see-through chiffon.
Finally from the SAGs we have actor Aubrey Plaza, so good in the second series of White Lotus, wearing Michael Kors.
Here are the problems with this alleged dress. First, it seems to be on back to front, leading to the second problem, which is an imminent Minge Moment. Third, she seems to have grown a second pair of tits. And no, you are not getting a picture.
To the Billboard Women in Music Awards where we find singer Rosalía. This is not her first time in this blog and frankly, it is unlikely to be the last….
Rosalia looks like a mountain primate in boots with under-boob. Somebody alert Sir David Attenborough…….
Here we are at the Costume Design Awards with actor Greg Tarzan Davis wearing a most remarkable ensemble.
Everything is flopping around, like a Southern belle on an interminably hot day in South Carolina. Even the flower at his waist is suffering from extreme lassitude. The last time WTF saw an outfit on this, it was on Jean Harlow, and it looked much better on her.
Still at the CDAs, the theme was Naked Without Us ie the costumes designed by the designers. Maybe so, but WTF is of the view that designer Dawn Ritz wearing her own creation took this to excess. Mind how you go now. Scroll down sl0wly…
She has a cottage loaf on her head, sticky tape across her tits and more sticky tape on her crotch. (Good luck with removing that, love. OUCH) And she is wrapped in clingfilm, as if she is just about to pop herself into storage.
And finally….it’s them again. Yes, Sam Smith continues to make a total tit of themselves (Sam answers to they), posing for a variety of revolting snaps for Perfect. Presumably, short for perfect prat. WTF is not sure that you are ready for this, but here we go. Have a receptacle handy and the number of a health professional on speed dial.
No. NO!!!!! YURGLE. They are trussed up like a rolled breast of chicken, lots of things are sticking out which should be covered up and we are about to get penis peek. Just. Go. Away.
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado WTF and many outraged people across the country at the arrogance, insensitivity and sheer stupidity of Kemi Badenoch, the Minister of Women and Equalities.
Badenoch is supposed to look after women’s interests but in her appearance before the Commons Women and Equalities Committee, which was considering the introduction of menopause as a protected characteristic, she did not just dismiss such an idea, but treated it with undisguised contempt. To her, the fact that millions of women suffer horribly with brain fog, sleeplessness, hot flushes and depression which lead many of them to lose, or to walk away from, their jobs is just woke left-wing nonsense and menopausal women are no more deserving of this extra protection than people with ginger hair or people who are short. She is a smug, dreadful woman and She’s Got To Go .
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please keep sending in your suggestions for It’s Got To Go and your top comments, which WTF likes more than anything. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good.