Hallo Readers, 

Amongst all the things for which that WTF cannot forgive Michael Gove, which includes just about everything he has done since his balls dropped, his worst offence was during the Brexit debate when he said “people have had enough of experts”. Of course, it is worth remembering that this was in the context of being asked to name any economist who backed Leave. This is because there weren’t any. You can bet your bottom dollar that had there been a queue of learned boffins all explaining why Britain would be a better place once we left Europe, Gove would have given their names, addresses,  telephone numbers and email. Sneering at experience and expertise has now become part of Post-Truth Politics. You do not need to know anything about the subject on which you choose to sound off. In fact, the less you know the better, as long as you shout it loudly enough and threaten all manner of obloquy against those who dare to point out you are wrong. Wrong is the new Right. Ignorance is the new Learning. Knowledge is the new Necromancy.

Post-Brexit, this contempt continues to flourish. Jacob Rees-Mogg, a man so posh, pompous and preposterous that Downton Abbey would have rejected him as a character, appeared on Newnight last month waving away the prediction from the Office for Budgetary Responsibility, a Government office set up precisely to give an independent view of the state of economy, that Brexit would cost Britain the trifling sum of £59bn. Rees-Mogg was having none of it. “Experts, soothsayers, astrologers are all in much the same category”, he scoffed. And this week, the Supreme Court Judges were derided for their ability to interpret constitutional law. Journalists whose own grasp of constitutional law stopped somewhere short of Yes Minister, mocked M’Lords and My Lady for meddling in matters outside their remit whilst idiots on social media, many with the IQ of a root vegetable, dismissed Lord Neuberger and his colleagues as “stupid” and “senile”.  Former Minister Iain Duncan Smith, a man who should know better but either does not know better or does not care that he should, complained that the Supreme Court hearing was “like watching paint dry” as if laugh-a-minute was the essence of complex judicial determination. What the hell do those judges know? They have only practiced in the field of law for four decades and reached the top of their profession. Why would they have a better grasp of the intricacies of The European Communities Act 1972 and the Good Friday Agreement and the deployment of the Royal Prerogative than Andy from Angelsea and Betty from Bradford? Yet when Andy suffers chest pains and Betty starts coughing up blood, will they call upon the local witch doctor or base their diagnosis on what @Charlieboy says on Twitter? No fear. They will be off to the local A&E before you can say 999. Because this expertise malarkey is only offensive when they do not understand what the hell is going on. Or do not want to know.

WTF is not Advocating a return to the age of deference when proles had to doff their cap. But when did we become so dismissive of learning and knowledge? Is this how it is going to be now? Sod the facts. Sod the law. Sod the constitution. Sod learning. Sod experience. Sod precedent. Sod anyone who actually understands what they are talking about. We don’t need them. We are tired of them. And that, Readers, sums up 2016. And bodes very ill for 2017 and beyond…

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To the week’s clothing cockups and New York to encounter actress Olivia Munn at the film premiere of Office Christmas Party,  wearing Reem Acra.

More horror from Reem Acrid. Olivia has been sold a pup and she knows it. You can see her standing there thinking unfriendly thoughts about her stylist. Like “you’re fired”. Had Scarlett O’Hara made her own wedding dress from the lace curtains at Tara but run out of lining fabric and had her undies stolen by malevolent Union soldiers, this is what she would have looked like.

To London and the Capital Radio Jingle Bell Ball where sartorial nastiness was all around. This is singer Anne-Marie Nicholson.

The late, lamented Andy Stewart was famous for a song called Donald, Where’s Your Troosers? He was wearing a kilt, you see. Oh never mind. Anyway, in this case, it is Anne-Marie, Where’s your Bloose? And why are you wearing your bath mat?

And now we meet DJ Roman Kemp.

Young Roman is the son of Martin Kemp of Spandau Ballet fame. They had a big hit with True. And true it is that this ensemble is perfectly ridiculous. Did he overdo it with the bleach when putting his clothes into the wash? If he did, it failed to eradicate the stains on his knees which look as if he has been kneeling in dogshit.

As if Londoners are not suffering enough at the moment, we then had the Fashion Awards where fashionistas various made a terrible fool of themselves. Like designer Lulu Kennedy.

WTF are those things on her arms? Are they sleeves? Are they gloves? Had she been sticking her extremities into a beehive? Why is there a dead bird on her shoulder? And whilst we are on the subject, WTF are those boots? Did she make them herself using those large tinfoil  turkey-size baking trays you buy in supermarkets at Christmas-time?

Here are loads of chaps at the Fashion Awards looking dismal, starting with designer Jean Paul Gaultier, presumably wearing himself.

Jean-Paul has come to the event dressed as a nautical butler in trainers. Who knows why?

Then there were designer Ralph Lauren and his wife Ricky. Both presumably wearing Ralph Lauren.

Never mind Donald, Where’s Your Troosers? This is Ralph, Where’s Your Troosers? Did he forget to pack them? Could he not have nipped into one of his many London outlets and borrowed a pair? And as WTF aficionado Joanne Morley wisely remarked, Ricky looks a circus ringmaster.

Another gruesome twosome, this time Gucci designer Alessandro Michele and his muse, actor Jared Leto, both wearing Gucci.

Alessandro has gift-wrapped himself although who will be unlucky enough to receive him, WTF cannot say. His floppy bow-tie seems to be suffering from brewer’s droop. As for Jared, he is clearly in costume for his role as a one-handed Nanki-Poo in The Mikado. a thing of threads and patches indeed….

And there was singer and X Factor judge Nicole Scherzinger, wearing Minge Maestro Julien Macdonald.

Has Julien been drawing on Nicole with one of those permanent marker pens you use to write your kids’ name on their uniforms? Actually not, these are 115,000 Swarovski crystals, all of which appeared to have died in vain.  The whole thing, not that is a whole anything, is far too gynaecological. As for the belt, it is as much use as tits on a fish.

Finally, we have perennial offender Mariah Carey, seen here with a friend. But it is what we can see of Mariah that is the problem.

WARNING – MAJOR MINGE ALERT!!!  MIND HOW YOU GO WITH THIS ONE!!!

Tits like a spaniel’s ears and a split way past where a split ought to stop, showcasing a nylon-encased nuuny. Either the dress is too small for Mariah or Mariah is too big for it, but either way it should not be worn outside the bedroom and even then only with a prior health warning for whoever it is whose eyeballs are about to be seared to his sockets.

This week’s It’s Got To is from WTF aficionado Lesley Kinney who asks what happened to Nigel Farage’s promised march of 100,000 disgruntled Brexiteers upon the Supreme Court on Monday to protest against judicial interference with The People’s Right To Decide. The hearing took 4 days and apart from a prat dressed as a leprechaun, a few ladies burning the Euro flag and some Remainers on a bus, no-one turned up. It reminded WTF of the film Ruthless People where Danny de Vito actually wants his wife to be murdered by her kidnappers. He withholds the ransom but they don’t kill her. When they phone him again to demand payment, Danny snaps. “I didn’t pay and just today I was at the morgue and she wasn’t there”. Quite. He’s Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. There were loads of top comments last week and WTF was skipping about like Skippy in a skipping competition. Keep it up, as well as your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

It’s here!! The WTF Christmas Turkey is back and more horrible than ever. No really – what follows is a series of really revolting fashion disasters, as bad as any collection WTF has ever compiled.

WTF has no idea what is going on but sartorially speaking, 2016 is the Year of the Minge Moment. There was masses of it everywhere. There is quite a lot of in these nominations. And WTF wants to know why? Why? WHY? When did it become OK to flash your lady parts in public? Because in WTF’s book, it never was and it never will be. Never has “fashion” sunk to such levels of utter vulgarity. The sheer tedium trend still has not gone away and even when people are covered up, they look no better. As you will see…

So, lovely Readers, it is over to you. Your job is to wade through this sea of sartorial shockingness and to select as many people as you want from the 20 nominees. There is none of that Single Transferable Vote malarkey here. Vote early and vote often and make sure that everyone you know does the same. Should you choose to do so, you can also leave scathing comments to go with your votes. The results will be published in the next blog which will be – wait for it!!!! – Friday 13th January 2017 because WTF is off on a lengthy trip to the Antipodes to get away from this dreadful post-Brexit Godforsaken country, if only for a little while. Will she come back sunnier for the break? Let us hope so.

All that remains is to wish you all a very happy Christmas/Chanukah/other and a Happier New Year and to thank you all for putting up with this schizophrenic mixture of politics and fashion and whimsy and vitriol and even showing signs of quite liking it. See you next year. Be good.

RIGHT!!  HERE THEY ARE!!!!!!!

1. Anna Chlumsky, actress, wearing Christian Siriano.

Anna had recently had a baby but that was no excuse for turning up at the Emmys wearing a textured bedspread. The ruching above the knees is particularly pointless.

2. Arrow Benjamin, musician, wearing who knows what.

WTF does not know what is worse – the Amish hat, the floral fabric or the built-in body warmer. But it is all just terribly, terribly terrible. 

3.Baddie Winkle, octogenarian internet sensation, wearing not nearly enough.

WTF is all for growing old disgracefully and Baddie is fit as a fiddle but no-one, of whatever age, should venture out with nothing but a few sparkles covering their bits. And those boots! The stick, however, is jolly.

4. Brooke Candy, rapper, wearing Marco Marco.

WTF was sorrowfully forced to draw a comparison between the minge cover and a leaking panty-pad. The whole look is an outrage, including the curtain pulls on her head.

5. Chiara Ferragni, fashion blogger, wearing Dior.

Essentially, this is just a glorified hairdresser’s gown with pleated tits. Not that Chiara is filling them. WTF hates a pleated tit almost above all things and nearly as much as she hates the fact that Dior has gone right down the pan.

6. Chloe Khan, reality star, wearing not nearly enough.

Like Tutankhamen with tits – and camel toe. Appalling.

7. Chrissy Teigen, model, wearing Yousef Akbar.

Chrissy sought to pretend that putting her vulva on view was an accident, despite her dress being slashed to the waist with nothing underneath. No-one believed her.

8. Cole Whittle, musician, wearing who knows what.

In short, this is a truly preposterous get-up. Meanwhile, snow boots are rarely required in Amsterdam in early November.

9. Dayanne Mello, model, wearing not nearly enough.

Dayane, like Giulia Salemi below, appeared at the Venice Film Festival for the sole purpose of publicising her pudendum.  Job done. Now go away….

10.  Elettra Lamborghini, Italian reality “star”, wearing not nearly enough.

Elettra went to the MTV EMA Awards with everything on display. But did we want to see it? Answer – no. Not even at all.

11. Elton John, megastar, wearing who knows what.

Elton went strolling around St Tropez in this foul shorts suit. The size of his entourage makes WTF think that one of them could have ironed it for him before he left the villa. The brooch is very Hyacinth Bucket. And clock the matching shirt and trainers….

12. Giulia Salemi, actress, wearing not enough.

Dayane Mello’s partner in crime. If you are going to flash your fanny at a film festival, at least spend half an hour at the spray tanners. And hope that it isn’t windy.

13. Jeremy Scott, designer, wearing something of his own design.

The suit is like the background of an acid-trip cartoon and he has forgotten his shirt. Furthermore, the pink cap and Kermit’s own neon Birkenstocks, singly or in combination, are simply unforgiveable.

14. Kim Kardashian, “celebrity”, wearing  Balmain.

Readers, it could not be more simple. If you have to cover your hooha with your hand, there is something wrong with your outfit. And with you for wearing it.

15. Mariah Carey, singer, wearing not nearly enough.

Mariah has recently split with billionaire beau James Packer and seems intent on showing him what he is missing. Not that he is probably missing it. But why should the rest of us have to suffer? There is simply not enough dress and/or too much Mariah. Or both.

16.  Nicky Minaj, rapper, wearing Maison Margiela.

Either show your nipples or wear a bra. Do not use strips of masking tape. That is all.

17. Pam Hogg, designer, (right) and (NB) 19. Tuuli Shipster (left), actress, both wearing Pam Hogg. Vote for each separately.

Pam has history for turning up at Red Carpet events covered up from head to toe and wearing sunglasses in the dark whilst dressing her companion in spangly body-stockings with only a few sequins covering the basics. WTF has diagnosed this as Mingehausen by Proxy. Anyway, both of them look ridiculous.

18. Tove Lo, singer, wearing Crap Diem (sic).

This gynaecological garment was designed by Tove’s stylist. It is ghastly. As for the boots, what do they have to do with the price of fish? 

19. Tuuli Shipster (see above with Pam Hogg, 17).

20. Lady Victoria Hervey, pointless celebrity, wearing Adolfio Sanchez.

Too late to make the week’s fashion review, Lady Victoria appeared in this horror. She appears to be burning in the flames of hell like the last scene –  SPOILER –  of Don Giovanni. Very, very bad.

OK, YOU HAVE WORK TO DO! GET VOTING…….

Hallo Readers,

Rather like Cameron and Piggate, the truth of the lurid allegations concerning President-Elect Trump is almost irrelevant. Schadenfreude is a basic human right and since every other human right is currently under attack, we have to cling on to those we are still able to enjoy. Whether Trump once paid Russian scrubbers to piss on each other and/or him is not the point. In fact, given the racist, mendacious campaign that got him elected, the fact that it is probably untrue makes the allegations all the more enjoyable. Almost as enjoyable as the outrage with which Trump and his team denounced the “fake news” as if he were not the man who repeatedly quoted a “very reliable source” that Barack Obama was not an American citizen and came to the US as a foreign student; the man who asserted that Hillary Clinton was a criminal who was going to jail; and the man who is generally incapable of distinguishing between the truth and his left buttock. (What actually is between his left buttock and his right buttock appears to be the appalling Piers Morgan, whose unswerving devotion to the orange-coloured buffoon is just plain embarrassing. Nearly as embarrassing as WTF aficionado Yvonne Ridley having to explain to her nonagenarian mother what a golden shower is. WTF would have paid good money to have witnessed that one…..)

Golden showers aside, this is no laughing matter. In seven days, Donald J Trump will be the 45th President of the United States and every day that passes would dent even the optimism of M. Pangloss and his cheery motto of “all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds”. He has the attention span of a gnat with ADHD, the spite of a petulant teenager (when attacked by Meryl Streep at the Golden Globes for mocking a disabled reporter, he retaliated by tweeting that she was “the most overrated actress in Hollywood”) and the vocabulary of the game show host he once was (everyone he likes is “fantastic” or “very, very brilliant”). He can barely string a sentence together. His Press Conference on Wednesday was an excruciating blend of arrogance, ignorance, incoherence and bullshit. He would “be the greatest jobs producer that God ever created. And I mean that, I really — I’m going to work very hard on that”. He denied consorting with paid ladies because he is a “germophobe” although his germophobia  is at odds with his boasted practice of approaching total strangers and kissing them – and more. He seemed to defend the Russians even through they had blatantly hacked into US computers and helped propel him to victory. He compared his Intelligence Services to Nazi Germany. His closeness, some might say indebtedness, to Putin was an asset, not a liability. And if they didn’t get along – well, he would be tougher on him than Clinton would ever have been. (This put WTF in mind of a boast her uncle once made to her father namely, “If I could swim, I could swim better than you”. Only he was 11 at the time and not 70). His explanation of how Mexico will pay for the Wall? “Mexico in some form, and there are many different forms, will reimburse us and they will reimburse us for the cost of the wall. That will happen, whether it’s a tax or whether it’s a payment — probably less likely that it’s a payment. But it will happen”. His failure to produce his tax returns? They don’t tell you anything, apparently. Only they do. Like whether you pay some. And how much. Meanwhile, the Senate is hearing from a bunch of Neanderthals whom Trump has appointed to his Cabinet, many of whom would be quite at home on Planet of the Apes.

So as the Inauguration approaches, with its promised “soft sensuality” (as another WTF aficionado Joshua LaPorte pointed out “soft sensuality” sounds like a brand of condoms), WTF has switched from anger and disbelief to fear, loathing and trepidation. Because if Trump is even 10% as evasive, delusional, vengeful and dishonest as he came across this week, the next four years and maybe, Heaven forfend, eight years are going to be a catastrophe.

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Talking of the Golden Globes, it is time to cast an eye on the sartorial shockers of that night, starting with actress Nicola Peltz wearing Alexander Wang.

Alexander Wank has given us a pink bra behind a mesh tit window in a studded leather harness and an oh-so-boring-I-could-die sheer skirt, striped like a demonic barber’s pole. 

Actress Anna Kendrick wearing Vionnet.

The problem is the tit sling which has knocked everything off kilter so that in a seismic shift, Anna’s breasts appear to have moved to the left of where breasts are usually to be found. The effect is rather like one of Picasso’s cubist paintings.

Actress Anna Chlumsky, wearing Roland Mouret.

More wonky boobs. Is this the newest fashion trend for 2017? Whoever is dressing Anna deserves a slap, a P45 and another slap. First there was the horror of her Emmys dress and now this, making her chest resemble a couple of lopsided hillocks.

Actress Jessica Biel, wearing Elie Saab.

Rather than sewing on all those little children’s stickers, maybe Elie could have used some of the thread to finish the skirt. And a little more fabric on the bodice….

Model and actress Emily Ratajkowski, wearing Reem Accra.

Reem Accrid strikes again with this slithery concoction but the main culprit is Emily, who is knock-kneed and flashing both her mammaries and her drawers like a naughty schoolgirl.

Actress Michelle Mitchenor, wearing who knows what.

She is wearing Mickey Mouse ears as a top and a most ill-advised pair of trousers like elongated boxing shorts and designed for someone six inches taller. The only knockout here is the one that should be aimed at the unnamed designer.

Pointless reality star Kylie Jenner, wearing Labourjoisie.

The dress is indescribably vulgar, as is the silver yoke around her neck and  it also appears to be ripped at the side. Either that or there is a built-in vaginal ventilation system.

Actor Cuba Gooding Jnr, wearing something way too small.

The jacket itself is fine. It is just that Cuba needed to go two sizes up. Here is a WTF Golden Rule. If your jacket is buttoned up and you can see shirt between the last button and the trousers, the jacket is too small for you or you are too big for it. Or both. At the afterparty Cuba (clearly the worse for wear) removed his jacket and put a KFC bucket on his head. And he looked better.

Actress Sophie Turner, wearing Louis Vuitton. Louis Vuitton!

WTF does not even know what this is but it is a bilious bucket of bad, bits of this and that and not enough of anything.

Finally, actress Nicole Kidman, wearing Alexander McQueen.

WTF read an article about Australian designer Alex Perry, who was over in LA hoping to tempt Nicole’s stylist with a couple of beautiful black dresses for the Red Carpet. This was WTF’s favourite of the two.

Instead, Alex was knocked back in favour of a creation that made Nicole  appear to be standing in the shower whilst wearing water-wings. 

AND NOW THE WINNER OF THE WTF CHRISTMAS TURKEY POLL 2016 IS….

BADDIE WINKLE!!!!

Internet sensation Baddie, 88, was initially languishing in third place but leapt into the lead in the second week of voting and stayed there with a clear lead over rapper Brooke Candy (second) and titsy moron Chloe Goodman, third. Baddie shows that age is no bar to bad taste. A most distinguished winner.

This week’s It’s Got To Go is courtesy of WTF aficionado Sir William Nicholson who complains about those airport roped chicanes constructed so that people can stand in an orderly line. Or something. Only often there are no people and yet passengers are still compelled to zig-zag through these lanes like bemused visitors to the Hampton Court maze, walking half a mile to go 100 feet. It’s Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. It’s good to be back. Keep those comments coming in as well as your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

This week Theresa May gave us her Brexit vision, clad, or should that be plaid, in her “lucky” tartan Vivienne Westwood trouser suit, the one which makes her look like Great Uncle Bulgaria in the Wombles (WTF is indebted to Daniel Blake, @killhopelaw, for pointing this out).

May announced that Britain would be leaving the EU, the Single Market, the European Court, possibly the Customs Union once somebody works out what the hell it is and those summits where all the other Leaders snub our PM because he/she has pissed them off. We won’t be paying them bucketfuls of money, we won’t be propping up their farmers, we won’t let their fruit pickers and caseworkers into the country to nick our citizens’ jobs, not what they want them. We are definitively offski. We want to stay friends with them, as long as we don’t have to pay for anything or let them have a say in what we do and we still want to reach a deal to trade with them. However, should they even think of getting shirty and insisting on stuff, like tariffs, well, we will get tough with them. It reminded WTF of King Lear raging impotently at his daughters, “I will do such things..What they are, yet I know not but they will be the terrors of the earth”. Only he was off his head. May warned that she would walk away with no deal rather than a bad deal, as if no deal with 500m people would be a better deal than any deal. Oh and Parliament will get a vote on the final deal, which makes all that guff in the Supreme Court about prerogative and the People Have Spoken a total waste of time and money. But that’s politics, folks.

At home, the reception was largely fawning, except of course amongst the liberal elite. She put Johnny Foreigner in his place. She kicked arse. She is the new Churchill/Boudicca/Good Queen Bess etc. Abroad, there was rather less enthusiasm. President Hollande’s office indicated that the UK should not be allowed to enjoy better conditions outside the single market when it leaves the European Union, suggesting that tariffs could be imposed on British exports. Enter our Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson, who poured his oil on troubled waters thus – “If Mr Hollande wants to administer punishment beatings to anybody who chooses to escape, rather in the manner of some World War II movie, then I don’t think that is the way forward, and actually it’s not in the interests of our friends and partners.” You do not expect tact or diplomacy from Johnson, although that it is his fucking job but it would be nice if he could manage to go through a week without offending the people who are supposed to be our allies and partners. Presumably his next trick will be to sing Springtime for Hitler to Mrs Merkel.

It’s not looking good is it? We would rather do ourselves out of trade deals than let more Europeans in, even though those who are still here probably won’t be asked to leave and lots of other people are also here who have nothing to do with the EU. We offend people when they point out the obvious, namely that they will not agree to our leaving being more favourable than staying. We will be reliant on the largesse of Donald Trump to put us ahead of other prospective traders, even though the man can’t remember what he said yesterday and when reminded of it, either denies it or says he didn’t mean it. Hey, but it’s OK. We’re getting our country back. In the manner of Donald Trump, we will put the great back into Great Britain.   Whatever the cost. 

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We turn to review the week’s fashion fiascos, starting with actress and singer Miley Cyrus.

If a teddy bear in a tiara went shopping, this is what it would look like. Miley should unzip that giant Le Sportsac bag, climb into it and not come out until she learns not to be silly. Which, on previous form, will be never. As for the ice-lolly glasses (worn in the dark – double black mark), they are a recipe for disaster. Jolt your head forward suddenly and you could gouge both cheeks open. Nasty.

Next we have pointless celeb Khloe Kardashian, wearing Ashish.

This sparkly tracksuit is more Hashish than Ashish. Why would you lounge about in a sequinned tracksuit? You would end up with more indentations than the surface of a satsuma. As for the furry slides, she looks like she has a couple of skinned cats on her feet.

And here is her half-sister Kylie Jenner, wearing Balmain.

Is this vile Balmain concoction reserved for members of the uber-Trashy Kardashian/Jenner clan? Half-sister Kourtney K was wearing something similar only the other week. And it looked terrible on her as well.

It is mandatory for the Kardashian/Jenners to flash their butt at all opportunities, to which (rear) end Balmain has designed this raggedy-arsed thing, part Betty Rubble, part Bergamasco dog.

To the People’s Choice Awards where we meet actor Tahj Mowry, wearing The Kooples.

He is cute and his show Baby Daddy is a big success in the US but that suit is simply too small. The jacket could not be buttoned if he were on a sponsored bet and his trousers have had a serious dispute with his ankles to the extent that both sides have now instructed lawyers.

Also there was actress Kristen Bell, wearing Rasario.

Regular Readers will know that WTF hates a pleated tit almost above all things and these pleated tits are particularly bad, like a pair of frilly moon cups. At least they distract from the fact that the trousers are about four inches too long…..

And there was actor Chris Sullivan, starring in TV series This Is Us, wearing who knows what…

Another jacket that is way too small. And a paint chart has vomited copiously on his trousers.

To the Television Critics’ Awards and wonderful actress Susan Sarandon, wearing Protagonist.

The suit itself (which will cost you over £1,300) is not too bad although a bit spivvy. Questions however must be asked about Susan’s magnificent embonpoint, hoicked up like a mountain range at sunset, and the scuffed silver bootees.

And finally, we have the appalling “socialite” (i.e. useless parasite) Lady Victoria Hervey at a BAFTA do in LA, wearing Ivan Donev. This one is really bad.

At least Susan Sarandon has some top-quality knockers to display. Lady Victoria’s are flatter than the Cambridgeshire fens. This is what Lewis Hamilton would wear if he went straight from the track to a costume party dressed as a pole dancer. The last time WTF saw that many bones, they were in an ossuary. Nor can the unwarranted amount of camel toe be ignored, or indeed forgotten. Traumatic.

This week’s It’s Got To Go is from WTF of Islington who was forced to spend the whole of Monday looking at and listening to Michael Gove, fresh from the non-triumph of the arse-licking-fest that was his Times “interview” with Donald Trump. Gove was on every television and radio programme giving us his insights into the Orange-utan-Elect, despite failing to ask him a single penetrating question or to challenge the ridiculous answers. WTF’s ire was further heightened by the footage of Gove BOWING at the culmination of proceedings. For that alone, as well as for everything else, he has definitely Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep those top  comments coming in as well as your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

Last month, WTF ranted about the new contempt for facts, learning and experience in a blog entitled WTF Wrong is the New Right Special which made Cassandra look cheery, warning that it boded ill for 2017. Trump’s election has not turned out to be as bad as she thought. It is much worse. One week in and it is already clear that truth is the first casualty of Trump’s War. On Day Two, he pitched up at the CIA with twenty braying idiots shipped in to cheer him on cue. He claimed that the lying Media had falsely suggested he had criticised the Intelligence Services for disseminating allegations of his watersporting in a Moscow hotel. Except that he had criticised them for it. On Twitter on 11 January 2017 at 12 48 EST. The braying idiots cheered him to the rafters, like the canned applause you get on American TV shows. Trump also lied that 1.5m people had attended his Inauguration. In his dreams. That lie was then perpetuated by the apoplectic, squeaky-voiced Press Secretary Sean Spicer, together with a whole batch of new and ludicrous lies about the numbers, coupled with thinly veiled threats to hold the Media “accountable”. Spicer made such a fool of himself that a new hashtag, #Spicerfacts, swamped Twitter even more than his outsized, comedy suit swamped him (the suit  got its own hashtag, #SeanSpicersuit). The following day, Trump’s Counsel Kellyanne Conway, a woman who makes Cruella de Vil look cuddly, was quizzed on Spicer’s splenetic performance. Conway explained that he had not lied, he had offered “alternative facts” and then had the temerity to complain when the interviewer laughed at her. On Monday, Spicer, markedly more emollient than on his previous outing and wearing a suit that fitted him, denied he had lied, maintaining “I think sometimes we can disagree with the facts. There are certain things that we may not fully understand when we come out, but our intention is never to lie to you.”

But it is. That is exactly their intention. Their intention is to tell you that black is white, that up is down, that good is bad, that facts are not facts. You cannot disagree with a fact because it is a fact. It is “a thing that is known or proved to be true”. The only alternative to a fact is a lie. Whatever you choose to call it. Juliet remarked “that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. That which Trump and Spicer and Conway call a fact is a lie and it stinks worse than a decomposing skunk. Spicer told us that white groundsheets on 20 January 2017 with hundreds of people on them were actually white groundsheets with thousands of people on them. He told us that white groundsheets on 20 January 2013 were green grass because white groundsheets were not used on 20 January 2013, even though anyone with functioning eyeballs could see that on 20 January 2013, thousands of people were standing on white groundsheets. Alternative my arse.

And the lies have kept on coming. And will keep on coming. Trump’s rampant Narcissism means he cannot bear to be bettered, cannot bear rejection, cannot bear mockery, cannot bear criticism. He deals with it by lying. So there have to be more people at, or watching, his inauguration than ever before. No one else gives a shit how many people attended a Republican inauguration in a Democrat city on a freezing cold, wet, January day or whether people watched it on their iPhones. But Trump does and so he will lie about it and send his minions out to lie about it and then he will rage at the Media for not swallowing the lie. Just like he only lost the popular vote because millions of illegal immigrants voted for Clinton. And he will tell his credulous supporters that he didn’t say this or tweet that and that the Media are the liars, so that eventually they will only get their news direct from his tweets and Spicer’s lies. And just as they have been told that Mexicans are criminals, that Muslims are terrorists and that bankers and big business (the bosses of which now form his Cabinet) ruined America, they will come to believe that any inconvenient truth is a lie. Hail to the Chief.

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Our review of the week’s clothing cloaca starts in Washington D.C. with Sean Spicer in his ridiculous suit.

That suit is big enough for two. The sleeves are ruched, the collar is picketing his neck, the shirt doesn’t fit and he can’t tie his tie. Sean should also invest in some Bobbi Brown under-eye concealer at the earliest opportunity.

And here is Kellyanne Conway at the Inauguration, wearing Gucci.

In keeping with her new role as Enemy of the Elite, Kellyanne appeared in this $3,400 coat and an upturned flowerpot on her head. Was she paying homage to the Patriots?  They had better hats.

And speaking of elites, here is pointless Paris Hilton out and about in London.

This is part-Oscar, part Missandei from Game of Thrones, all bad. And sunglasses in the dark are just silly. 

In similar vein, we have Orange is the New Black actress Ruby Rose, wearing WTF Bugbear Julien Macdonald.

This gold frock, complete with imminent Minge Moment and tit-harness, makes Ruby, who has FIFTY-FOUR tattoos, look like a particularly scrawny, cross-dressing, teenaged teamster. 

Ruby and Milla Jovovich are in a movie called Resident Evil – the Final Chapter.  Here is Milla at the premiere, wearing Prada.

This is a nightdress trimmed with untrimmed grey pubic hair. Meanwhile, whoever did lovely Milla’s makeup needs a slap, a P45 and another slap.

To LA and actress Keke Palmer at the premiere of “The New Edition Story”.

Keke was “styled”, if that is the word I am looking for, which it is is not, by “stylist”, if that is the word I am looking for, which it is manifestly is not, Maikeeb Kills. To be frank, Maikeeb is taking the piss. The fringed raffia Hawaiian bra, which does not seem up to the job, is not so much “Aloha, Aloha” as “Hehena”, which means “raving mad”.

To Paris Fashion Week and WTF regular Lewis Hamilton, wearing Givenchy.

Lewis is dressed as Don José, the toreador in a rollerblading version of Bizet’s Carmen.

This is Z-lister Lizzie Cundy en route to the National Television Awards in London, wearing Aashi.

Lizzie is wrapped in a silken bedsheet and baring her bellybutton like a Grecian handmaiden. Someone should take the fabric around her wrist and tether her to the bannisters in her front hall to prevent further assaults upon the Public’s sensibilities. Yurgle.

Finally, we have the “star” of Geordie Shore, Marnie Simpson, wearing no knickers at the National Television Awards. WARNING!!! MIND HOW YOU GO!!!

AND HERE IS A WARNING TO GO WITH THE FIRST WARNING!!!

Oh God. Full-on 4HD vulvarama from this ghastly, rough-as-a-bear’s-arse no-mark. This would not even pass muster in Newcastle’s Bigg Market. Just. Go. Away.

This week’s It’s Got To Go arises from various outraged WTF aficionados who are appalled by the self-satisfied, smirking tub of lard that is Piers Morgan. He is now so firmly wedged up the Presidential rectum that it would take teams of fireman and medics to extract him, like a particularly pervy episode of Critical. First, when Ewan McGregor refused to be interviewed by him in protest at Morgan’s disparagement of the Women’s Marches, he launched a vitriolic attack on the actor in the Daily Mail, calling him a “pedophile-loving hypocrite” (a reference to McGregor once praising director Roman Polanski). Morgan then asked why women were complaining about being made to wear high heels at work as he had to wear makeup on TV. Finally, he offered May advice on her meeting with Trump as he was “the only Briton Trump follows on Twitter” and “If it’s all going horribly wrong, don’t hesitate to mention my name”. He has so Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. There was not a single comment last week and you know how this makes WTF plunge headlong into Stygian gloom. Don’t let it happen again. And don’t forget your suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

If there is one thing worse than than an ignoramus, it is an ignoramus who does not actually want to know anything because s/he is going to do it anyway. And that is the Trump Presidency. It is ignorant. It is arrogant. Just do it. To hell with it. Knee-jerk Government by jerks. Justify it. If you can’t justify it, deny that you said it, even if it is written down or recorded. 

From the moment he assumed office fourteen ghastly days ago, there has been some daily affront to decency, shimmering under the aura of menace, mendacity and monstrous ego. Refugees are “illegal immigrants” with no rights. A Supreme Court nominee is picked to stymie abortion and equal rights, the announcement trailed and staged like the final of The Apprentice. Iran was wrongly accused of firing on an American warship and put “on notice”, although it wasn’t Iran who had fired and it was a Saudi warship. The appalling Steve Bannon, Cardinal Richlieu without the robes, is now admitted as of right to the National Security Council whilst Chiefs of Staff are not. Frederick Douglass, an iconic figure in Black American history, was praised by Trump introducing Black History Month as “someone who has done a terrific job that is being recognized by more and more people” even though he died in 1895 and Trump clearly had no idea who he was. Oh and Holocaust Day was marked by a Presidential Statement which failed to mention the Jews. At all. When asked about this, Chief of Staff Reince Priebus refused to apologise but claimed that the Holocaust was “a horrible time for Jews”.  So that’s alright then.

The main outrage was of course the ban on citizens of 7 countries, all predominantly Muslim, from travelling to the US, imposed without notice and by Executive Order.  We were told it wasn’t a Muslim ban because everyone from those countries was affected. Only it was a Muslim ban because if you were from a minority religion in one of those countries, an exception could be made for you. And later it turned out that it was not actually a “ban”. Even though Trump had called it “a very, very, strict ban”. And it was still a “ban” on Sunday. And on Monday. But on Tuesday, hapless numbskull Sean Spicer, who had himself called it a “ban” on Sunday, told the White House Press briefing that it was not a “ban”. It was “extreme vetting, plain and simple and the President had made that clear.. the words being used are derived from what the Media is calling this.” So the Media quotes Trump using the word “ban” and he says he only then used the word “ban”  because the Media used the word “ban”. I hope that’s clear.

And there was more. Those 109 people “inconvenienced” by the “extreme vetting”, not that there were only 109, included a five year old boy pictured in handcuffs. Handcuffs. That’s pretty damn inconvenient. But Spicer said that you can’t make assumptions based on age. So the “very very strict ban” that wasn’t a “ban” was keeping Americans safe from homicidal kiddies. Although not the ones who are actually American and shoot other Americans with guns by accident.  In America. To Spicer, the events in Canada, where a white supremacist Quebeçois murdered six men in a mosque, were proof positive of the need for a “ban”, not that it was a “ban”. Even though the victims were, er, Muslim and praying in a mosque. And even though the man who murdered them was, er, not Muslim. And even though he hadn’t entered Canada because he had never left Canada in the first place because he was Canadian and so he didn’t need to come in because he was already there. And even though countries that have actually produced terrorists who killed people in the name of Islam were Not on that list. Not Saudi. Not Jordan. Not Afghanistan. Not Pakistan. The fact that Trump does business with them is of course a coincidence. Believe me.

Outraged protesters gathered at airports to demonstrate. Lawyers acted for free to get people out. Judges issued orders to stop deportations. Members of Congress phoned Border Officials to enquire about constituents and had phones slammed down on them. Lawyers were denied access to their clients, even after producing court orders that they could do so. Obloquy rained down from everywhere – except from our Prime Minister who had already issued the invitation of a State Visit on meeting him a few days earlier and now realised that she couldn’t get out of it. Theresa May, let that be a lesson to you – don’t give it all up on the first date. Even if you’re desperate. Because once it’s out, it’s out and it’s too late to put it back in. As Trump himself would say – Sad.

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WTF likes to keep a eye on what the White House wears as well as what it does, so we start our weekly review of crappy clothing with Ivanka Trump, pictured with husband Jared Kushner, on the night Daddy signed his Executive Order. Ivanka is wearing a dress by Carolina Herrera costing $4,995.

$4,995 is a lot to pay for crumpled tinfoil. You can buy a large roll from the the corner shop for £1 and crumple it yourself……

Not to mention that whilst many people spent Saturday night worried sick about the Constitution, Ivanka thought it appropriate to post a picture of herself at a posh charity do. These people just don’t get it, do they?

This is radio presenter and former stylist (!) Gemma Cairney.

More tinfoil. When did tinfoil become an actual thing, sartorially speaking? With or without thick black tights? And why does she have a Dunkin’ Donut on her head?

This is American reality star Carmen Ortega at the All-Star National Hockey League (NHL) Event in L.A, wearing not nearly enough.

This was a charity event benefiting the Children’s Hospital in Los Angeles and Carmen turned up dressed like a kinky Nazi stormtrooper. Who knows why?

To the Harper’s Bazaar 150 Most Fashionable Women event and OITNB star,  Danielle Brooks, wearing who knows what.

WTF? She looks like she is standing in a giant asparagus steamer. Who brings a giant asparagus steamer to a gala? And attaches it to their frock to avoid carrying it?

Greet philanthropist Linda Ramone and musician J.D. King at the same do. 

If this is one of Harper’s Bazaar’s 150 most fashionable women, WTF is a banana. Linda looks like the Mad Hatter in drag. J.D. looks like Guy Fawkes on his way to blow up Parliament.

On the whole, the Screen Actors Guild Awards Red Carpet was disappointingly respectable but there were a few stinkers, including actress Julie Bowen wearing J Mendel.

Mingetastic. The dress resembles a cheap shower curtain and is there any need for the crotch to be quite, er, crocheted?

Here is Nicole Kidman, wearing Gucci.

The colour is great but there is much frothiness and a LOT of exposed chest. And there are parrots!

Who does this remind you of? Come on…. you know the answer.

Yes! Nicole has come dressed as Long John Silver!! All she lacks is the eye patch and the missing leg. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum…..

Also very bad was OITNB’s Jessica Pimentel, wearing Malan Breton.

She gets brownie points for body confidence. She gets minus points for sense. There is an unwarranted amount of flesh on display. Just think how nice this dress would have been had there been more dress.

This week’s It’s Got To Go is Paul Nuttall, the new UKIP Leader, who is seeking to become MP for Stoke in the upcoming by-election. Nuttall gave his address on his candidacy form as 65 Oxford Street, Stoke. But he had never even seen the place, let alone lived there, when he registered although he now claims he intended to live there. Today, Nuttall posted a picture of himself sitting on a mattress on the floor of his new “bedroom”, although it looked more like the broom cupboard in a flophouse. He is either thick or dishonest or both but he is not fit to be an MP.  He’s Got to Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Luckily you came though with comments this week and extracted WTF from the deep gloom into which she had sunk the previous week when there weren’t any at all. And keep those top suggestions coming in for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

WTF’s dad used to tell a joke about a man driving around rural Ireland, hopelessly lost. Eventually, he sees a farmer leaning on his fence and stops the car. “Excuse me”, he says, “I’m trying to get to Dublin. Which is the way?” The farmer scratches his head and then replies “If I were you, I wouldn’t start from here”. And that is exactly the problem with Brexit. You wouldn’t start from here. Here is the political equivalent of being lost in the middle of fields in the middle of nowhere. Here is MPs who believe passionately in the EU, MPs who fought the last election in favour of staying in the EU, tramping through the lobby in favour of its abandonment. Here is the Leader of the Labour Party, purportedly pro-EU, imposing a three-line whip on his MPs to trigger Article 50 and the irrevocable process of leaving.  And imposing another three-line whip so that no-one could even seek to amend the bill. Corbyn, the same man who defied the party whip 500 times. Yes, him.  Here is Corbyn having handed the whole damn Brexit thing to Theresa May, and then tweeting

Which is not just locking the stable door after the horse has bolted but burning down the stables and putting your riding clothes on eBay. What is he planning to fight about? As Nicola Sturgeon rightly pointed out “How? You’ve just handed the Tories a blank cheque. You didn’t win a single concession but still voted for the Bill. Pathetic”.  Quite. WTF accepts – reluctantly as hell, but she accepts – that Brexit will now happen. For some reason, a vote which was not binding, which was not expressed in the Referendum Act to be binding, has been accepted as mandatory. But to allow the bill to proceed without challenge, MPs traipsing through the lobbies like nodding doggies, is nothing short of an abrogation of their duties. Their duty is to question, is to challenge,  is to scrutinise. And they are not to going to do it. This isn’t getting our country back because this is not the way our country operated. No wonder the repulsive David Davies planted a kiss on Diane Abbott after she caved in and voted as Corbyn told her. It wasn’t done out of affection, or gratitude, it was done out of triumphalism. And no wonder she told him to fuck off. He was damn lucky she didn’t smack him one. And then shop him to the cops for sexual assault. Has David been taking lessons in behaviour to women from Donald Trump?

Do we want MPs to do what they think is right or what they are told? And by whom should they be told? By their electorate? By their Party Leader? Do they just chuck their conscience out of the window? Should they vote to re-introduce hanging? The majority of the country would probably go for that too. If we want robots, put robots in to vote and let’s save ourselves the salary and expenses for 600-odd MPs. Actually, we might get more sense out of robots….

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We start the survey of the week’s sartorial sluice with UKIP candidate Paul Nuttall, out campaigning in Stoke-on-Trent.

As explained last week, PC Plod is currently investigating the fact that Nuttall lived in Bootle but claimed to live in Stoke on his candidacy form, even though he had never even seen the place.  If convicted, he could go inside. Frankly he would be better dressed in prison overalls than in this appalling ensemble, comprising a hideous check tweed cap and coat like a bookie’s runner and a UKIP tie and rosette combo, objectionable both politically and aesthetically. For that alone, never mind possible breaches of election law, he deserves incarceration.

To New York Fashion Week where nonsense abounded, mostly on the men. This is Beyonce’s stylist Ty Hunter at the Elle Party.

If Ty was responsible for putting Bey into that purple silk bra and blue panties for her pregnancy announcement picture, he should join Paul in a cell with no possibility of parole. This Come-To-The-Clown’s-Casbah outfit is further proof of the criminal offence of attacking the public’s eyeballs.

Also looking like a sack of shit was NFL footballer Stefon Diggs at the Robert Geller show.

He’s wearing a top composed from off-cuts and those jeans, although handily ventilated for a hot day, are a whole It’s Got To Go on their own. Something seems to have gone awry around the ankles…

And now a trio of rubbish in our Sheer Tedium section, starting with actress Kristen Stewart hosting Saturday Night Live whilst wearing Spanx. Yes, really…..

One would not have thought Kristen required the Spanx slip but the Spanx slip requires more than a net skirt over it. And what’s with the leather demarcation of the minge area?

Next up, singer Halsey wearing Sophie Theallet at the premiere of Fifty Shades Darker of Filth. 

It is actually is a dress, not a playsuit and patterned tights, and it can safely be said that it is rather small around the tits. To the power of n. As for the choker, is it a prop from the movie?

Third and equally horrible is this John Galliano dress on singer Noah Cyrus, sister of Miley.

She is 17! Why is she dressed like that? To quote from one of WTF’s favourite films, Tin Men, there is definitely some sort of sickness that runs in that family. In this case, a genetic predisposition to flash your bits in public. Let us hope that medical science soon makes a breakthrough….

It is bad enough to have to put up with the drivel of Fifty Shades of Filth  and its endless sequels without having all these terrible clothes foisted on us at the same time. Like rapper Tameka Cottle, aka Tiny, wearing who knows what.

Tiny is going through a sticky patch in her marriage but that is no excuse for going out and about dressed in an inkblot and a blue condom and more inkblots on her feet. Although the top inkblot appears to be covering inked boobies, which are even worse than the inkblot.

And finally we have Laura Govan, “star” of something called Basketball Wives LA (me neither) and ex of player Gilbert Arenas, by whom she has four children. This outfit, by Azzi & Osta, is as silly as anything you will ever see.

The back view is even worse.

Who would anyone want to look like the arse on a stegosarus? Baffling….

This week’s It’s Got To Go is David Beckham. Leaked emails have shown that David might not be quite as nice as he seems. WTF is not bothered about his use of the c-word about those who denied him a knighthood. Looking at the collection of arse-lickers, political timeservers and businesspersons on the make, you can forgive David for his irritation that Philip Green has one and he doesn’t. More worrying is his exhorting others to cough up for charities whilst declining to put his hand in his own pocket, the demand that UNICEF reimburse him £6,685 for an airfare when he had got a ride on a private plane instead and his avoidance of paying tax to the country whose football team he once captained. He and his annoying wife and annoying children have all Got To Go. 

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please keep those top comments coming in, as they keep WTF cheery, as well as your suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

It has been the sort of week that made WTF want to poke out her eyes with chopsticks before setting about her ears with a rusty knife. Yes, losing one ear was good enough for Van Gogh but that would still leave WTF with another one to catch the relentless flow of rubbish, mendacity and ignorance emanating from across the Atlantic. Drastic action is required.

The Trump regime goes from bad to worse to bloody unbelievable. Last Sunday saw us subjected to dead-eyed automaton Stephen Miller, Trump’s Senior Advisor and the love child of Frankenstein and Elena Ceausescu, who appeared on virtually every US political programme to indoctrinate the masses with his shouty bullshit. “It is a fact  – and you will not deny it – that there are massive numbers of non-citizens in this country who are registered to vote”. Except that it is not a fact and no one has ever adduced any evidence of it being a fact, save to assert that it is a fact, which does not make it a fact. Not even at all. By the way, the purpose of this is to explain why Trump lost New Hampshire. And listen to this one. “Our opponents, the media, and the whole world will soon see as we begin to take further actions, that the powers of the President to protect our country are very substantial and will not be questioned”. Forget the Constitution. Forget the Courts. Kim Don-Un will not be questioned.

The Glorious Leader spent the week tweeting about the dishonest Media which had forced the departure of his former defence advisor who, depending on who you asked and what day you asked about it, either insisted on resigning, was asked to resign or was fired. General Flynn, who makes Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now look like Gandhi, had spoken to Moscow about lifting Obama’s sanctions on Russia even before Kim Don-Un became President. Not that Flynn had done anything wrong, you understand; he had just forgotten to mention it to the Vice-President, you know, even though the Vice President was appearing on TV and telling everyone that discussions with Moscow never took place. Even on his own story, the Attorney-General brought this matter to the Presidential attention in January but the President didn’t tell the Vice President either. Maybe he should sack himself. The Intelligence Services were also excoriated for leaking classified information, which simultaneously was also Fake News. So the information was Fake and True and Classified but Flynn was only dismissed when the Media got hold of the story. I trust that’s clear.  

Yesterday saw a Press Conference which was, without question, the maddest thing ever in the history of ever. Having deplored Fake News, The Glorious Leader spread some of his own, namely that he had got the highest number of electoral college votes since Reagan. When it was pointed out to him that Obama had got more, he said he meant Republican Presidents. When he was then told that George H Bush had got more, he said he was just repeating the information given to him and he had also seen it somewhere. (Probably in his dreams, together with the 1.5 million people at his inauguration and the illegals pouring into New Hampshire to vote for Clinton). He batted away questions about his staff’s dealings with Russia as “a ruse” and insisted that the only thing Flynn had done wrong was in not telling the Vice President. “I’ve watched various programs and I’ve read various articles where he was just doing his job.” He also explained “You know what uranium is? It’s this thing called nuclear weapons, and other things, like lots of things are done with uranium, including some bad things”. Doubtless this came as a surprise to those who thought uranium was a good thing. Thank goodness he warned us.

In other news, his travel ban (not that it was ban) had a smooth roll-out and his administration, the one that is leaking like a leaky sieve with extra leaks and currently subject to a court injunction, is “running like a fine tuned machine”.  Frankly, the only fine tuned machine he should be thinking about is an ambulance speeding him to a secluded spot where the Nation’s top psychiatrists, psychotherapists and behavioural psychologists can try and figure out what the fuck he was talking about. Until then, it is all aboard the fast canoe to shit creek. Don’t bring your paddle.

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We absolutely need cheering up.  Let us turn to a Baker’s Dozen of the week’s worst sartorial shite, starting at the BAFTAS with actress Anya Taylor-Joy, wearing Gucci.

Sorry, Anna. This is just a glorified loo-roll cover with added whimsy.

This is French singer Heloise Letissier aka Christine And the Queens, wearing Lanvin.

Inspired by a stick of liquorice, tailored by Charlie Chaplin, a shirt that shrank in the wash and a train with a concentration camp print. Worn with army boots. Lanvin is taking the piss. In fact, there is more piss than in a pub pissoir at closing time.

Next up is Irish actress Caitriona Balfe, wearing Valentino.

WTF does not even know what this is. It seems to be a patchwork of randomly – coloured thermal vests worn over a pleated sweet wrapper. Valentino? Really?

To the Grammys, where horror was in great abundance. We begin with singer Nicole Scherzinger at a pre-Grammys party, wearing Minge Maestro Michael Costello. 

She looks as though someone ran her over with a truck. Get that Northern Irish bloke from Silent Witness onto those tyre marks!

Singer Halsey is appearing for the second week running, this time wearing Christian Wijnants.

The colour is good but this is just an oversized tracksuit with tit tape. The buttons have fallen off the jacket, the camisole was never on in the first place and the trousers belong to Giant Haystacks.

Meet actress Rose McGowan and her boyfriend Boots. 

Boots looks like a poodle with distemper and he would be well advised to invest in a comb. Rose has come straight from an S&M party and someone seems to have thrown a pot of gold paint over her hair.

Meet musician and producer George Clinton, pictured with Carlon Thompson-Clinton (who looks good).

First question. Why he is wearing a bathrobe? Second question. What on earth is that thing on his head?

On closer inspection, it appears to be a metallic chauffeur’s cap with spikes. Is it for head-butting parking attendants when they hove into view?  

Of course Lady Gaga was there, wearing a jacket and shorts by Alex Ulichny.

WTF uses the word “wearing” loosely. There is cropped, there is bolero and there is tit-baring. Meanwhile, the boots are positively death-defying. It would be safer trying to walk a high wire between skyscrapers….

This is serial offender  Jacqueline von Bierk, wearing Andre Soriano. 

Younger Readers, those shiny things on her dress are called CDs, which is how we used to listen to music before iTunes. Jacqueline is a mouldy CD Pixie, complete with wings and green hair. 

Now we have Australian model Nicole Trunfio, wearing Zuhair Murad.

Zuhair Murad has dressed Nicole in a puce muff ruff, putting onlookers in fear of an imminent minge moment. 

And here is another serial offender, Joy Villa, also wearing Andre Soriano. 

Last year Joy came dressed as a fence. This year, she is not sitting on it.

Joy wants us to “see [Trump] over the politics”, which appears to be her justification for dressing as an Alt-Right wet dream. 

Next up is singer Girl Crush, who describes herself as “LA’s newest pop tart”. 

Never mind tart, she looks like a mermaid popping out of a cupcake.

And there is more, like singer CeeLo Green.

It later emerged that CeeLo was wearing a costume for his new alter ego, Gnarly Davidson. WTF can only observe that if his intention was to look like a knob, he more than succeeded.

Finally, artfully combining the Grammys and It’s Got To Go, this is rapper Lil Yachty and his $35,000 jewelled teeth commissioned specially for the occasion. 

There is no nice way to say this. He looks like a twat with more money than sense. $35,000 on jewelled teeth? They resemble a mouthful of Skittles. And he is dressed like a 19th century Riverboat Gambler. He, his droopy bow tie and his teeth have all Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Last week there were only a few comments and you know how that upsets WTF no end. Where is your humanity? Put some effort in and send in your suggestions for It’s Got To Go whilst you’re at it.  Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers, 

A man goes back to the doctor, who tells him that there is good news and bad news. The good news, he says, is that the man has a day to live. The man is stunned. “What’s the bad news?”, he asks. The doctor replies “I forgot to call you yesterday”. And that, Readers, is Labour under Jeremy Corbyn. The good news is that Labour saw off UKIP Leader, fantasist Paul Nuttall, in the Stoke-on-Trent Central by-election, on a very low turnout of 38%. The bad news is that it lost the admittedly marginal seat of Copeland, the first time the Opposition has lost a seat to the sitting government in over half a century.

Labour was lucky to be up against such a hapless cretin as Nuttall, a man who struggles to distinguish the truth from a steaming bucket of shit. Over the years, he has claimed to have been a professional footballer, when he wasn’t; has claimed to have a PhD, when he didn’t; and claimed to live at 65 Oxford Street, Stoke on his nomination form when he lived in Bootle. The Stoke property had been rented only the day before he filled in the form and he himself had never even seen it. Then he was caught out again. His website claimed that he had lost close friends at Hillsborough. Not a close friend, singular. Close friends, plural. Except that he hadn’t. In an interview last week, Nuttall admitted that he hadn’t lost one close friend, let alone more than one, although “I lost people I knew”. As Lady Bracknell nearly remarked, to not lose one close friend may be regarded as a misfortune. Not to lose two looks like carelessness. The blame was shifted onto a hapless Press Officer instead. He still claims that he had been at Hillsborough on that fateful day in 1989 and has the audacity to be affronted when questioned about it.  Scousers cannot lie about Hillsborough. They just can’t.  In the same week, his Immigration Spokesman tweeted a cartoon with the slogan “If you want a jihadi for a neighbour, vote Labour”, echoing the infamous 1965  campaign in Smethwick when the Tory candidate was elected on the slogan “If you want a n****r for a neighbour, vote Labour.” UKIP had claimed that it would storm the old Labour heartlands, especially Stoke where 69% had voted for Brexit. Like Nuttall’s other claims, it proved to be false.

The Labour candidate in Copeland (who shamefully left the Hall after the result without making a speech) is a volunteer for the St. John’s Ambulance Brigade. After coming second to the Tories in a seat which had voted Red since 1935, it is time to apply the Heimlich Manoeuvre  and some  mouth-to-mouth resuscitation both to her and to the Party, because this is as bad as it gets. Corbyn immediately put out a statement blaming the failed political discourse but it is his discourse that is failing. For the past year he has been talking to himself and his supporters and mistaking their evangelical support for national support. But, as yesterday showed, national support ain’t there. Labour should have walked Stoke, and with another UKIP candidate, it might have done much worse. Labour should have held Copeland, but it didn’t. In both cases, the by-elections had been prompted by resignations of disaffected Labour MP’s who bailed out rather than put up with Corbyn, and constituents do not like unnecessary by-elections and having to schlep out to vote on a wet and windy day, let alone in the middle of Storm Doris. But losing Copeland is not just the equivalent of dropping the ball – it is being unable even to spot where the bloody ball has gone. Corbyn doesn’t look like a Leader. He doesn’t sound like a Leader. He isn’t a Leader. He is unelectable and He’s Got To Go. 

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Time to distract ourselves with silly sartorial choices, starting at the Naked Heart Foundation Gala and designer Joshua Kane, wearing himself.

Charles 11 meets Victorian whimsy meets Bertie Wooster’s spats. Ugh.

And then there was excellent actress Kristen Scott Thomas, wearing Fendi.

She looks barking mad like the spiritualist Madame Arcati in Blithe Spirit.

The jumpsuit evokes the sort of cheap duvet cover you buy at ASDA’s Home Department and there is more clutter than your ancient auntie’s basement.

Here we are in London at the BRIT Awards and singer Rita Ora wearing Minge Maestro Alexandre Vauthier.

No, no, no. Rita is dressed like a GI in drag who has gone mouldy. The groin garland is particularly offensive. Although not nearly nearly as offensive as the “OMG-I’ve-just-been-caught-in-a-downpour-OMG” hair.

And this is stylist Kyle De’volle, wearing Vivienne Westwood.

 If there is one thing WTF Absolutely Cannot Bloody Stand, it is Concentration Camp Chic. Like this. As The Donald would say, “Sad!” Not to mention, “Tasteless!”

And now three women dressed in feathers. As far as WTF is concerned, they all deserve the bird. First, we have X Factor winner Louisa Johnson, wearing Barrus.

She  looks as if she has trampled over an eagle’s nest. Meanwhile, pink hair doesn’t even look good on a troll and they’re meant to be weird…..

And ditto with knobs on for model Nadia Vodianova, wearing Givenchy.

A scrawny pink budgie on stilts with built-in Minge Moment and wings. Why?Here is one of WTF’s favourite rules. If it looks shit on a supermodel, then it is probably is.

All four members of the band Little Mix looked dreadful. They cannot grasp that it is not mandatory to flash everything all the time. Or at all. This is one half, Perrie Edwards and Jade Thirlwall.

Perrie has also gone down the feathery route and has conical tits made from hubcaps, a veritable Black Swan as envisaged by an SS choreographer. Jade is wearing a crumpled sheet and is trying hard to show us that she is not wearing panties. 

And here is the other half of the band, Jesy Nelson and Leigh-Anne Pinnock.

Jesy has put a zip in an armchair and worn it as a dress. Leigh-Anne has also gone for conical tits, like a couple of tiny denim sombreros, and the rest of her ensemble is not so much distressed as distressing.

This is model Eliza Cummings wearing Giles Deacon.

If Lady Mary from Downton Abbey went to a fancy dress party as a transgender Toad of Toad Hall, this is what she would look like.

We move on to the L’Oréal and Vanity Fair Young Hollywood Event and Modern Family star Ariel Winter, wearing house of CB.

This falls squarely into the category of “not even clothes”. A tit truss swimsuit and matching sarong may be fine at the pool. But not at a gala. 

Finally, this is Westworld actress Angela Sarafyan, wearing Celia Kritharioti.

Why is this even a thing? She looks as though she has been run over by a line-painting truck.

Jeremy Corbyn. See above.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Next week will be an Oscars Special. In the meantime, keep commenting and suggesting nominations for It’s Got to Go. Let us meet again this Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

WTF is no fan of the House of Lords, an unelected ragbag of former politicians, academics, lawyers, arselickers, moneybags, ageing luvvies and people whose great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother had it off with Charles 11. The whole thing is undemocratic, even though many of them do an excellent job.  On a documentary aired this week on BBC 2, one peer described it as “the best daycare centre for the elderly in London”. Only usually you pay for care. In the House of Lords, they pay you, £300 a day whether you are there for ten minutes or ten hours. There is also an excellent selection of bars and restaurants at very competitive prices, all paid for by Tom and Tilly Tosser, the taxpayers. 

Be that howsoever as that may be, the House of Lords is part of Parliament and our Parliamentary system depends upon checks and balances. The Lords cannot stop a bill becoming law but they can delay it if they think the Government needs to reconsider it. Unlike the Commons, the peers care  less about party dictates because their peerages are irrevocable and they are not going anywhere. Once you’re in, you’re in. Like the Garrick, only with women members. 

Do you remember the Brexit campaign and all that stuff about Parliament being sovereign? Well, the House of Lords is part of that sovereign Parliament and the peers were doing their job when they blocked the Brexit  bill by insisting that the Government protect the EU nationals already living here and do not use them as a pawn in negotiations. People who have lived here for years, who have worked here, trained here, paid taxes here, married Britons, had British children, have been living in fear and trepidation since 23 June last year. How is this in any way the mark of a civilised nation? 358 peers decided that it was not and so the Brexit bill has to go back to the House of Commons for further consideration, despite Lord Tebbit enquiring “Why is everybody here today so excited about an amendment which looks after the foreigners and not the British?”. It’s called humanity, M’Lord. You should try it sometime.

Cue the traditional howls of outrage. The Daily Mail and the Daily Express went bonkers. Their readers (insofar as the Express has any readers) went completely bonkers. The Lords are traitors betraying the nation (er, they’re not). The Lords had no right to interfere, they thundered (er, they do). That is not their role (er, it is). They are unelected (well, that’s true). And then the old chestnut – the People Have Voted For Brexit! Can we please get this straight? The People did vote for Brexit by 52%-48%. But that is all they voted for. They did not vote on the timetable. They did not vote on the terms. They did not vote on the fate of those EU nationals living here or, for that matter, of those British nationals living there. And so WTF wishes that people who clearly have no grasp of the constitution, no grasp of the law (as witnessed by the preposterous reaction to the Court’s adjudication on the proper mechanism by which Brexit should be effected), who invoke the Sovereignty of Parliament only when it suits them just as they invoke the supremacy of the Courts only when it suits them, should please, please, please just stop shouting the odds and go and read a book about how our system works.

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Talking of institutions, we turn to our review of the Oscars fashion outrages, encompassing both the Red Carpet and the after-parties. Ryan Gosling was lucky to escape inclusion for his ridiculous bar mitzvah boy shirt, but let us start instead with Diva-de-luxe Mariah Carey, wearing Philipp Plein.

Ouch! It is not just the impending nip-slip. It is the dress (which is lovely) which is slicing her boobs in half, like couture plastic surgery. Look!!!!!!!!

Good grief. Is this some form of pervy Opus Dei? Has her boob been punctured like air oozing from a balloon? Either way, it is horrible to behold.

Singer Gabrielle Union, wearing Jean Paul Gaultier Couture.

She’s stunning. But this is another example of JPG’s tedious half crap, half different crap schtick. This one is half bikini and wrap, half evening gown, 100% seriously stupid.

Actor Alan Cumming, without whom no Awards ceremony blog would be complete.

Alan omits no opportunity to flash his pasty Celtic calves. WTF is a great fan of cropped trousers but these are not so much cropped as truncated, and there is also great disapprobation for the Nehru coat-smock-and-boots combo. As for the hair, it is not so much tousled as tragic.

Actress Dakota Johnson, wearing Gucci.

Obviously keen to get away from her raunchy fuck-me-sideways Fifty Shades of Filth character, Dakota turned up in Queen Victoria’s nightgown worn, inexplicably, with a matching fanny fan. And it’s creased. And her hair looks lank. Sack the stylist, stat!

Musician Mica Levi (aka Micachu). 

This diarrhoea-coloured thing is quite possibly the worst suit WTF has ever seen. It’s the sort of getup you got as a demob suit in 1945 when everything else had run out and this was the only one left. Also those boots! This was the Oscars Red Carpet, not the Grand Canyon.

Actress Diane Kruger, wearing Minge Maestro Alexandre Vauthier.

You know those Greek myths where maidens are turned into laurel trees and gods transform themselves into bulls? Well, in this version a goddess has transformed herself into a silken bed sheet with waterfall snatch scarf, perhaps to escape from Vauthier and other designers who think women should parade about like this.

Actor Jared Leto (of course) wearing Gucci (of course).

He is wearing a dressing gown and a woolly hat. At a party. And white socks, which are a no-no anywhere, except at the gym or if you’re Michael Jackson. And trousers which have fallen out with his ankles. Ridiculous. Even for him.

Actress Janelle Monae, wearing Elie Saab.

It’s so BIG. How did she get through the door? She must have come in sideways. And it’s so TITSY…..

It is beautifully made, yes, but it is far too Marie Antoinette and her chest is under attack from all manner of little feathered creatures having a nibble.

And of course there were the minge-flashers. There always are, those who otherwise would languish in obscurity. Like model Tanya Mityushina, wearing something even more titsy by Rani Zakhem.

Tits. Bellybutton. Minge Moment. Just go away.

And socialite Lady Victoria Hervey, wearing Julia Clancey.

This is a lace crotch curtain worn, inexplicably, with white panties.

Where is Robespierre when you need him?

And finally actress Blanca Blanco, in a dress of her own design. Careful now….

Blanca flashed her side-vag at the camera and then did that thing where you pretend that you had absolutely no idea it would happen. Like there was any other feasible outcome with a hip-high slit. Nice try, love.

This week’s It’s Got To Go is nominated by Jen from Fulham who is unimpressed with Martha Luis and Brian Cullinan, the PWC partners who charged the Academy Awards loads of money to supervise the voting process and the ceremony. Why do they even need accountants? You could count the votes on your kitchen table and perhaps a minion more used to be around movie stars would have been less star-struck than Cullinan, who was so busy perving up over Emma Stone that he handed Warren Beatty the wrong envelope to open for Best Movie. As that was the last award of the night, it was hardly complicated. Luis seems less culpable but has been blamed for allowing three minutes and several speeches to elapse before the producers of La La Land were forced to hand over the statuette to its rightful owners. I mean, it isn’t rocket science, is it? On the other hand, today’s news that they now have to have bodyguards after death threats on Twitter shows what a nasty society we have become.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please keep commenting and suggesting nominations for It’s Got to Go.  WTF is troubled, what with Trump and Brexit and everything and she needs your support.  Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

Apologies for the appearance of the blog. WordPress.com has inexplicably decided to omit the justified text button without any justification, at which WTF is in great indignation. She is in discussion with them about it and will keep you posted. Bear with her.

Last Saturday at around 6 30 am, the President of the United States woke up, did whatever men of a certain age need to do when they wake up and then reached for his mobile phone, letting forth a series of inflammatory tweets. Most people expel their shit in the toilet. Trump expels his on Twitter.  This time, he accused his predecessor of tapping his phone the previous October. This was “Watergate!”, he raved. This was “McCarthyism!”, he told us. Obama was a “bad (or sick) guy”. Trump was so distraught about this flagrant assault upon his constitutional rights and upon democracy that an hour later he was busy taking a pop at Arnold Schwarzenegger for getting fired from The Apprentice.  That is the nature of the man. Unthinking. Uncontrolled. Unconcerned about the truth. Un-fucking-believable.

The world waited for something, anything, resembling evidence in support of his Obama allegations. And it is still waiting.  And will wait a very long time. Trump insists that the “wire tapp” did happen. The idiot cannot even bloody spell. The Deputy Press Secretary, motherhood-and-apple-pie-made-flesh Sarah Huckabee Sanders, appeared on the weekend talk show circuit and floated various turds across the bowl, none of which made any sense. She told us that the President was entitled to ask Congress to investigate his allegations because they had previously been aired by the Guardian and the BBC and the New York Times. This was untrue because none of those outlets alleged that Obama was personally involved in tapping Trump’s phone. That was spouted only by a crackpot AltRight shock-jock and crackpottier Alt-Right website, Brietbart. And when did the New York Times and the BBC stop peddling FAKE NEWS and start informing the President about stuff? Sanders also maintained that the President was entitled to know if the allegations were true, although he had already asserted and continues to assert that they were true.  Sanders was bad as in shockingly, mortifyingly, horribly, bad but then we got the actual Press Secretary Sean Spicer. According to Spicey, it was not appropriate for the President to provide Congress with actual proof of the allegations because of the “separation of powers”. On that logic, not that it is logic, Trump can accuse anyone of anything and then demand Congress waste time and resources investigating it without being providing even the most basic proof. The Clintons are in league with the Martians! Obama regularly rapes cats! John McCain was linked to the assassination of JFK…. Oh hang on. Sorry. According to Trump, that was Ted Cruz’s dad. And whilst we are on the subject, didn’t Trump promise to cut out unnecessary expenditure? Except the cost of flying his whole family down to Florida every weekend so that he can play golf. And except the cost of taking the Nation’s mind off actual and credible evidence of contacts between his team and Russia? The same Russia that leaked emails about Clinton so crucial to Trump’s electoral success. That Russia. 

Here’s the thing, Readers. Trump was elected to “drain the swamp” but the swamp is now filling up with poisonous snakes and all manner of effluent emanating from the Trump circus. Who cares if we said this? Now we are saying that. Why does it matter if we can’t substantiate a claim? Investigate it anyway. So what if our National Security Adviser and our Attorney-General lied about their contacts with Russia? We’ll just start a shit-storm to cover it up.  Never apologise. Never explain. It worked before, did it not? It took him years to admit that Obama was not born in Kenya, but his supporters still believe it because he kept telling them that it was true. Now they believe that Obama tapped his phone because Trump told them that it was true. How long will it take him to withdraw this canard? How is this any way to run a Government? How can this sleazy, thin-skinned, self-obsessed liar be President of anything, anywhere? And what the hell is America going to do about it?

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Talking of effluent, let us cheer ourselves up with the week’s sartorial shite, starting in London with ex-TOWIE person (and gymnast) Pascal Craymer, wearing who knows what.

It is like the end of The Maltese Falcon when they take beautiful but dodgy Brigid O’Shaughnessy away in the lift, only Pascal is in her bra and panties, not a fur coat. 

To Germany and actress Nicole Kidman, wearing Gianbattista Valli.

You see Readers, you can be fully covered and still look dreadful. Nicole is a woman of mature years but is dressed in a $20,000 kiddies’ nightdress, like Wendy from Peter Pan.

 Singer Christina Milian wearing Rubin Singer.

Christina looks as if she is being squeezed out of both ends of a tube. WTF cannot but feel that she needed to take a size up.

Rapper Kent Jones wearing who knows what at the iHeart Radio Awards.

Look, WTF knows that these are music awards but Kent looks like the man who has come to mend the boiler. WTF is also wondering how he manages to get in and out of the outfit, particularly at wee-wee time.

Singer Daya was also there, wearing Balmain.

Daya has rehashed this horror, previously worn in a brown version by Jennifer Lopez. That one made JLo look as if she had rolled in pigshit. This one makes Daya look as if she has been spray-painted but the painters ran out of paint. Both versions are to be deplored but at least Jennifer’s hugged her curves. This one is hanging off Daya and looks ridiculous….

As was singer Halsey, wearing Versace.

Er….love, you’re confused. That isn’t a top. That is a belt. It is supposed to go around your waist. It is not supposed to be wrapped around your tits with the perforations leaving indentations like the aftermath of a frenzied woodpecker attack.

And finally from these Awards, model Hunter McGrady wearing  a mash-up of Chromat, Prabal Gurung for Lane Bryant and FTF.

Hunter apparently threw this outfit together. WTF saw it and threw up. It can best be described as porno-dungeon-dominatrix whilst the bodice, if such it can be called, resembles a broken cage with a built-in bra.

To Paris and singer Nicki Minaj,  wearing a Mugler jacket and a pair of leather shorts by Givenchy. Mind how you go with this one!. Seriously!!

Givenchy is not to blame and it is not often that you can say those particular words. The shorts are yummy. Mugler, however, is guilty as hell because had it produced a jacket with two sleeves rather than one, as is the usual practice, Nicki would not have succumbed to the urge to compensate for the asymmetry. She could have kept her tit inside her jacket, rather than whipping it out and sticking a nipple pasty on it like an ultra-shiny band-aid. She is also wearing ski-goggles, the purpose of which is not immediately apparent.

Do you know what, Readers? they are all so bad that we need a poll to decide on the worst.

Hallo Readers,

It did not take long for the vultures to circle over the corpses left by the London terror attacks on Wednesday. It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good and in this case a notable profiteer was the despicable Katie Hopkins, laughably described last year by Donald Trump as a “respected columnist”. Hopkins is not a respected anything – her role in life is to insult, shock and offend, the media equivalent of urinating into someone’s drink in a public bar. For the past few years, pandering to the Neanderthals who lap this stuff up, Hopkins has attacked Muslims suggesting that they are, pretty much, to blame for everything bad that ever happened. When something bad happened to Muslims, namely being forced to flee from Syria and getting drowned en route, Hopkins wrote in The Sun that “Make no mistake, these migrants are like cockroaches. They might look a bit ‘Bob Geldof’s Ethiopia circa 1984’, but they are built to survive a nuclear bomb”.  Hopkins eventually left The Sun and found her spiritual home in the Mail Online where she has continued in similar vein. Only last year she cost the paper £150,000 when she suggested with no evidence of any kind, that Mohammed Tariq Mahmood and Mohammed Zadiq Mahmood, two British men removed unceremoniously from a Disneyland-bound flight by US authorities, were terrorists with links to Al Quaeda. WTF cannot be bothered to repeat the litany of Hopkins’ other outrages from the mouth and pen of this disgusting excuse for a human being because whatever she writes just makes your skin crawl.

Even before Wednesday’s assailant and his victims had been identified, Hopkins was at it again, tweeting “We are not united. Multiculturalism means we die together too”. She then appeared on Trump’s favourite channel Fox News talking to his lickspittle Tucker Carlson where she said of London and Londoners, “People are cowed. People are afraid. And people are not united.” Bullshit. Hopkins does not live in London but 200 miles away in leafy Devon. The truth is a wholly optional work tool and one she prefers to do without. Never mind that Londoners lived through the IRA bombings and the 2005 Tube and Bus Bombings and the murder of Lee Rigby and the small matter of the Blitz. Never mind that everyone got up yesterday and went to work and carried on in the usual way and will carry on carrying on in the usual way today and tomorrow and the day after that. Never mind that her tweets and column were greeted with universal scorn and derision.  If she can spew out poison in her column or on Fox to bemused Americans who think she knows something, she will be there like a rat up a drainpipe. Presumably Fox viewed Hopkins as an expert but then Fox viewed Judge Andrew Napolitano as an expert and look where that got them. (And him. Fox has buried him deeper than nuclear waste). The only expertise that Hopkins has is in being utterly vile. 

Not that she was alone. There was racist thug Tommy Robinson, erstwhile Head of the English Defence League, arriving at Westminster in record time to stir up hate and fear and to press for mass internment and deportations and ranting about Islam as a “fascist religion calling for murder in 110 verses”. And of course there was Nigel Farage, Trump’s arselicker-in-chief, quick to throw his hate, sorry, hat, into the ring, calling for stricter vetting of immigrants and refugees. Except that the late and unlamented Khalid Masood, né Adrian Elms, was born in Kent 52 years ago and so was neither an immigrant nor a refugee. WTF hopes that Masood rots in hell but he had as much right to be in the UK as Farage, who was also born in Kent 52 years ago. Yes, we have a serious problem in Britain and in Europe with Islamic Terrorism. But the likes of Farage and Hopkins are not providing the answers because they are too busy cosying up to Trump whilst furthering their job prospects. 

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Let us cheer ourselves up with the week’s sartorial sluice bucket starting with actress Mandy Moore, wearing Diane von Furstenburg.

WTF is mystified and then she is mystified some more. Those colours are really horrible together. Mandy seems to have based her look on Top Cat, minus the hat and whiskers.

Next up we have ghastly Z-lister, former TOWIE-person and giant pain in the arse Lauren Goodger on her way to visit her boyfriend in prison, wearing Finders Keepers.

Time was that visiting your boyfriend in chokey was not something you would want publicised but when you are a crap celebrity with nothing else to offer apart from your ever-changing weight issues, you have to make use of whatever you can. So it is that Lauren visited Joey Morrison, currently serving 16 years for violent drug-related crimes (he sounds like a real keeper), in full glare of the cameras and dressed for a July garden party in a giant folded tablecloth and grey over-the-knee boots, making her legs look like bandaged gangrene. Lauren – please go away.

Next up, we have model Suki Waterhouse, wearing Rasario.

This is like three separate dresses put together. The top third is lurex pixie, the middle third is Victorian bloomers and the bottom third is boudoir negligee. They have as much to do with each other as Nigel Farage and the Muslim Council of Great Britain.

Meet a newcomer to these pages, actress Naomi Scott at the premiere of her new movie Power Rangers, wearing Chanel. Chanel! 

No, sorry, WTF is not having this. Chanel!? This is a slip and a back to front apron. Mme Coco must be turning in her grave.

This is Kourtney Kardashian wearing rubbish trousers and a top by Yeezy, her brother-in-law’s clothing line.

How do you actually get these on? And why would you bother?

Bow down to Princess Caroline of Hanover at the Monaco Rose Ball, wearing Chanel.

There is whimsical. And there is wanky. She seems to be standing in a dogs-tooth polo neck behind a cardboard cutout of a design for the Ascot scene in My Fair Lady.

Finally, here is Sundy Carter, “star” of some rubbish called Basketball Wives of LA. Now to be fair, this was a 50 Shades of Filth-themed party but even so….This is a shoo-in for the Summer Stinker 2017 and ranks with Bobby Norris’ cocksock as one of the worst things WTF has ever seen, ever, in the history of ever.

WARNING – THIS IS REALLY, REALLY, BAD!!!

AND HERE IS ANOTHER WARNING TO GO WITH THE FIRST WARNING!!!

There is not enough brain bleach in the world to erase this horrendousness from your memory. This is not clothes, not even at all. Be-ribboned Minge. Tattoo. Tits. Everything on view. And that’s the front. Here is the rear view. Literally. 

AND HERE IS A THIRD WARNING TO GO WITH THE FIRST AND SECOND WARNINGS!!!

WTF is against flashing your arse, period, but she is all in wonder why anyone would want to flash this particular arse, for which the word flabby has insufficient nuance. As for the blue lipstick, she looks like she is suffering from advanced cyanosis.

This week’s It’s Got To is from WTF aficionado Ayesha from Stepney who is aghast at the return (for the awful TV charity marathon, Red Nose Day) of Love Actually,  directed by her bete noire Richard Curtis. Ayesha deplores the way that Curtis flogs English clichés to a US audience and the fact that nothing in his films resembles anything familiar from ordinary life. He is the Penny Dreadful of directors presenting his celluloid theme park with one eye on the US Box Office. It is all buttock-clenchingly mortifying says Ayesha and He’s Got To Go.

Hallo Readers, 

If ever there was an oxymoron, it is “House Intelligence”, as in House Intelligence Committee which is currently investigating connections between the Trump election campaign and/or Transition Team and Russia. Its little arsewipe of a Chairman, Devin Nunes, is a former member of the Trump transition team, which is In itself a trifle iffy. 10 days ago, Nunes suddenly went to the White House to brief the President on some top secret information he had got from “a source”. He did not inform his colleagues on the Committee about his intended trip. He did not tell them about the documents, much less share them. He told the Press that the  new information he had supported the theory that some members of the Trump team might have been surveilled, seemingly shoring up Trump’s unsupported tweets that Obama had tapped his phone.  Nunes said he had gone to the White House the previous evening to meet an unnamed person to look at the unspecified information and then had gone back to the White House the next day to tell the President about what he had learned from the unnamed person, but that the Trump administration had not known about his first visit and the source was not from the White House, which  rather begs the question what the hell that person was doing at the White House at all. The White House is the centre of the Trump administration. As far as WTF is aware, the White House does not take in lodgers. People tend to be there because they are working for the Trump Administration. Equally you cannot just stroll into the White House. You need an appointment. Someone has to sign you in. Someone has to sign you out. Despite this, there is apparently no record of Nunes’ arrival or departure.

Outrage abounded, particularly amongst his Committee colleagues but Nunes refused to tell them what he had learned or from whom. He then unilaterally changed the next Committee hearing from public to private; admitted that the information he had seen did not back up Trump’s claims that Obama had tapped his phone; and refused to resign. He saw nothing wrong with the Chairman of a Committee investigating the President having a cosy chat with that President about the investigation and giving the impression to all and sundry that he was trying to save him from scrutiny. This week, Nunes upped his game. He unilaterally cancelled even the private hearing that was supposed to take place on Monday, which was scheduled to hear from the former Attorney-General who had first warned Trump about the contacts between his former National Security Adviser, Mike “Lock Her Up” Flynn and the Russkies. The one who was sacked for lying about those contacts. The one who is now seeking immunity in exchange for testifying. That Mike Flynn.

Yesterday, The Failing New York Times named two White House officials as Nunes’ source. One of them had narrowly avoided the push after Flynn’s departure on the personal intervention of Jared Kushner and Steve Bannon. The other one was a former lawyer on – wait for it – the House Intelligence Committee. It is of course a complete coincidence that after this story appeared – denounced by Trump as a lie – the White House suddenly invited both Nunes and his Democrat colleague Adam Schiff, plus their Senate counterparts, to come over to look at documents. So Nunes is going back to the White House to look at a document he was shown 10 days ago by the President’s staff and which he went back to the White House to show the President, who already knew about it anyway. He seems to be in and out of the White House like a fiddler’s elbow.  With the emphasis on fiddle.

You know what Readers? It stinks. It stinks worse than a warehouse of fish where the freezers have been turned off. And what makes it stinkier is that this little arsewipe is still Chairman of the Oxymoronic Committee and the White House is still denying any complicity and Sean Spicer is still promising to look into the whereabouts of the Visitors’ Book and Trump is still calling this Fake News. And what makes it yet stinkier is that the whole thing is so bloody inept and yet we are expected to believe these blatant liars – and that they continue to voice outrage that we do not believe them. This is simply the death of shame. Bastards.

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We start our review of the sartorial shockers of the week with Donald Trump’s hair.

Seriously, what the fuck IS this? It is a comb-over combined with a side-over combined with a widow’s peak. When you own hair looks like a bad wig, it is time to rethink your hair.

Next up, we have actress Sara Escudero, wearing who knows what.

Sara, a grown woman, is dressed like as bordello Tinkerbell.

Next up we have actor Jason Sudeikis at the premiere of his new movie Colossal. 

Never mind Colossal, Jason looks a colossal chump. He is clearly channelling the late Benny Hill.

Jason is somewhat underdressed in comparison with his co-star, Anne Hathaway, wearing Armani.

Jason rolls up looking like a schloch whilst Anne parades in a preposterous couture frock with a colossal lace thing poking her in the face, as if she were peeking out from behind a fan. How is this fair?

Meet actress Dania Ramirez,wearing Gosia Bacznyska.

This is just terribly, terribly, terrible, denim offcuts with a pube porthole. What the bag has to do with the price of fish, WTF cannot say, but it is BAD.

This is Gogglebox’s Sandi Bogle at the National Television Awards, wearing KiKi Riki.

If the Sugar Plum Fairy went to a fancy dress party dressed as a flamenco dancer savaged by a bull, this is what she would look like. There is a great deal of tattooed tit. Apparently at one point there was even more tit when one “accidentally” fell out in front of the paparazzi. Yeah. Right.

And now a trio of lacy horror in our Sheer Tedium feature. We start with model Bianca Balti at the Dolce & Gabbana party, wearing Dolce & Gabbana.

The top has shrunk in the wash and regular Readers will know that WTF hates a sheer trouser almost above all things.

And then we have former model and new America’s Got Talent Judge Tyra Banks.

Tyra has gone one better than Bianca because she has a lace suit! A double-breasted lace jacket is much use as mudguards on a tortoise and whilst Tyra has knickers on, the effect is of abundant pubes. Extra minus points for the purple lipstick and the ridiculous stance, like a toddler about to do a wee-wee.

She’s back! Readers’ favourite Nancy dell’Olio emerged from a period of obscurity, which frankly we were all enjoying, at an event in the National Portrait Gallery. Brace yourselves.

As you know, criticism is alien to WTF’s nature, but Nancy’s face is shinier than a snooker ball in floodlights at the Crucible. There seems to have been some interference with the workings of nature. As for the dress, it is an abomination.

By all means wrap yourself in a lace curtain if you must, but at least make sure it fits. The zip appears to have surrendered and the nude under-slip is short enough to make onlookers very worried.

Hallo Readers,

It is Good Friday. But will we be here the same time next year or will the World be blown to smithereens? Russia is cross with the US for bombing Syria. Syria is more than cross with the US for being bombed. North Korea hates the US. The US hates North Korea and is threatening to sort them out. A supposed ISIS hideout in Afghanistan has been blown to shit by the biggest US bomb since Nagasaki. Let’s face it – things are not looking good.

In principle, WTF has no objection to bombing the shit out of Assad. Those who try and pretend that the Syrians were not responsible for the chemical attacks – take a long look at yourself. In principle, WTF has no objection to bombing the shit out of ISIS. But that is just the point. There has to be a principle. There has to be a policy. What is exactly is US foreign policy? America First has yielded to Ivanka First. The First Daughter was upset by pictures of horribly maimed little kiddies and so Daddy stepped in to sort the bastards out. But was there a game plan, other to keep Ivanka happy? And what the hell was it? And was there a game plan involved in bombing ISIS? And what the hell was that?

At the time of the attacks, China’s President Xi was paying a State Visit to Trump’s golf club in Palm Springs. Trump had previously been very upset with China and threatened to declare it as a “currency manipulator” but it is amazing how some one-to-one time over pudding can repair international relations. Trump described how he broke the news to his guest. “I was sitting at the table. We had finished dinner. We’re now having dessert. And we had the most beautiful piece of chocolate cake that you’ve ever seen and President Xi was enjoying it. And I was given the message from the generals that the ships are locked and loaded, what do you do? And we made a determination to do it, so the missiles were on the way. And I said, Mr. President, let me explain something to you.” Lord Palmerston gave us Gunboat Diplomacy. Now we have Dessert Diplomacy with an added plug for the Mar-A-Lago chef. There may be a World War, there may be truffle ahead, but President Xi enjoyed his chocolate cake. However, not to fudge the issue, this is bloody dangerous.  

Trump is on a voyage of discovery about international relations and history, things he knows nothing about. For him, history started when he took office.  He described relations between the US and Russia as at an all-time low, clearly unaware of the little matter of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Previously Putin was wonderful and China was horrible. China had to sort out North Korea. Then Putin backed Assad and President Xi explained the history of China and Korea. “After listening for 10 minutes, I realised it’s not so easy, I felt pretty strongly that they had a tremendous power over North Korea. But it’s not what you would think.” Just as he realised that healthcare was more complicated than he had thought, not that he had thought. Just as last week NATO was obsolete and this week it is not obsolete. That is the thing about governing a country. It is complicated. You have to know stuff. Or at least know that you don’t know stuff. And you have to ask people who do know stuff to explain it to you. Which does not include your preppy little twat of a son-in-law. And preferably before you start bombing countries without thinking through the consequences. Mind you, as a distraction from the Russians influencing the election and his still unproven allegations against Obama, it is pretty damn effective. 

Anyway something good has come out of this. Trump and Xi are now best mates. Trump said yesterday, “President Xi is a terrific person, we spent a lot of time together (two days) and he is a very special man”. This is a fine bromance. It is enough to make you ganache your teeth.

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We start our review of the week’s sartorial slurry with former Arsenal captain, Tony Adams, wearing a very rascal suit.

Adams has just been appointed manager of Spanish team Granada and on the day this photo was all over the press, despite the fact that it is apparently two years old. Nevertheless, it merits inclusion as one of the very worst suits ever in the history of ever, the lovechild of bathroom mosaic and a picnic tablecloth.  And there are three pieces of it!! Here is how Tony should be dressed. If only he still were….

This is from May 1998 when he scored the fourth goal against Everton at Highbury to clinch the League Title. Those were the days when we used to win things and when we had a defence (*weeps uncontrollably*).

To the Olivier Awards in London where a variety of people were appallingly dressed. Like actress Anita Dobson, formerly Ange off East Enders. WARNING!! A STROBERAMA AWAITS YOU! 

WTF can only conclude that Anita was seeking to repair relations with Spain following the fracas over Gibraltar but frankly, the Spaniards would rather see a couple of Royal Navy battleships steaming towards them than this OTT Flamenco kaleidoscopic frillfest worn with tights and mules. If this isn’t a declaration of war, WTF doesn’t know what is.

Reader’s favourite Nancy dell’Olio is back again, wearing something horrible and Giuseppe Zanotti wedges, which are also horrible. What was she even doing there?

This net curtain thing is not providing Nancy’s embonpoint with any support and she seems to be on the verge of flashing her all. But the real concern is the shiny face, like a death mask. Yurgle.

And now a trio of Dior excrescence. There is sheer. And there is rip-off Designer sheer. First up, actress Rose Leslie.

Oh come off it! Really? Underneath the dress are black knitted J’Adior boxer shorts (£600). And you can see them.

Admittedly, if you are going to wear £600 of anything, you would want to show it off. But in this case you should resist because it is BAD. It is UGLY. Why would you channel Mark Wahlberg in his Calvin Klein modelling period?

And there was actress Ruth Wilson, also showing us her under-crackers.

That stance is unflattering, like Keats’ Stout Cortez “when with eagle eyes. He star’d at the Pacific..” The dress is also unflattering because it makes her look square, which she is not. Ruth, no one wants to see your panties. As the other iconic Ruth, Ruth Archer in The Archers, would say…Ooooh Noooo!

And finally, at the premiere of The Fate of the Furious, actress Charlize Theron.

Again, Oooh Noooo! Dior, get a bloody grip. This is like a Roman Centurion in bra and panties. Why? Why the boots? Why the necklace? Just why, ad infinitem??????

Yes, I know she was in last week but this crime against the eyeballs cannot be overlooked. It is WTF’s favourite Z Lister, Lizzie Cundy. Again. This time she is attending the premiere of The Hatton Garden Job, wearing Diaso London. Brace yourselves……

All together now……AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH! At least Eve wore a fig leaf that fitted her. And here literally is the rear view.

WTF doesn’t need to say anything, does she? Lizzie, for Gawd’s sake, give it a rest. Cover up. Stay indoors. Go away.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from aficionados @magpie_ms and @UncannyVal who brought the website Buykud.com to WTF’s attention. Or should that be Buykrud.com? @magpie_ms found these revolting “jeans”, a cross between Thai fishermen’s trousers and a bad acid trip. 

@UncannyVal found this cotton dress, the epitome of Concentration Camp Chic. Except that it isn’t chic, just downright offensive.

Someone, somewhere, is taking the piss. It’s Got To Go.

Hallo Readers. 

Are you sick of the election already? WTF certainly is. Have you heard anyone say anything interesting? Has anyone inspired you? Does it fill you with joy when Sir Michael Fallon comes on? Or Diane Abbott? Tim Farron anyone? Are you thrilled that Zac Goldsmith and Paul Nuttall are back in the frame? It is all as enjoyable as a barbed wire enema. And there are weeks of it to go. Weeks. You could have punch several grannies in the street and be out of prison in less time. And all in the name of cynical opportunism dressed up as getting the country united – united to cheer on President Maydogan as she steers us out of Europe without anyone having the temerity to question what she is doing. The good news is that Nigel Farage is not standing. The bad news is that he is therefore free to comment endlessly on every News Outlet going.

Meanwhile, across the Channel we have another election going on but this one will be done in a fortnight with a run-off between Emmanuel Macron, the man formerly known as “Who?” and Marine, the woman formerly known as Marine Le Pen and Leader of the Front National. (She stepped down to fight the election. When she loses, she will be back.) Le Pen dropped her surname to pretend that she is not the daughter of fascist, antisemitic, holocaust-denying scumbucket Jean-Marie le Pen. Given that both Le Pen père et fille are synonymous with the Front National, this ruse is as about as effective as going to a lynching in ordinary clothes whilst still wearing your pointy white hood with the eye holes. No one is fooled. 

Predictably, other right wing bigots are behind Marine. Although he claimed not to endorse her, Trump endorsed her, noting that she was strongest on borders and  what is going on in France. “Whoever has the toughest policy on radical Islamic terrorism will do well in the election” he said. Unsurprisingly, Le Pen père said he thought his daughter would win if she campaigned à la Trump. The rebarbative Katie Hopkins told Fox “I just wanted to say that Marine Le Pen is not far right, she is just off the right. And she is in the right. She wants to keep France for the French”.  France for the French – ring any bells? Nigel Farage also told Fox’s neanderthal viewers that Le Pen “has dragged the FN a long way from their racist past”. Really? Le Pen wants to deport legal immigrants if they remain unemployed for six months and drastically to reduce immigration. Less than a fortnight into the election, she claimed that the French had played no part in rounding up 38,000 Jews deported to Auschwitz between July and September 1942 (of whom only 780 survived) . According to Le Pen, the people  involved were not French because the real French, the Free French, were in exile. So if you didn’t manage to escape France in 1940, you were a traitor. This from the woman who made a virtue of chucking her father out of the Front National for describing the Holocaust as a “detail of history”.  

Farage and Le Pen have a lot in common. They both trouser the €108,000 salary as a MEP plus the preposterously generous expenses whilst pissing on it at every turn. They both champion nationalism. They both appeal to the nasty, feral, foreigners-are-bad xenophobia that led us to Brexit. And Trump to the Presidency. Admittedly Le Pen has been helped by the terrorist attacks in France and the uselessness of French Intelligence. The French Intelligence could clearly not catch an elephant in a cupboard. Fortunately, everyone who does not want a racist in power will band together to see Le Pen off next Sunday. But look at those queuing up to cheer her on. By their friends shall ye know them…..

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We dip our toes into the week’s sartorial wankiness, starting with actress Jaime King wearing Johanna Ortiz.

No, WTF doesn’t know what is going on here either. The best she can suggest is that Jaime is appearing in a cash-strapped production of Aladdin where the producers told the costume department to use offcuts of curtain material. And frilly, flowery bloomers for the shoulder pads. The fact that Jaime managed a smile is a tribute to her thespian skills. Or evidence that she is bonkers. Or both.

WTF aficionado Pam from Edinburgh will not be happy but here is Orange is the New Black actress Danielle Brooks, wearing Eloquii.

Is it International Curtain Week? First we had Jaime in her curtains and now we have Danielle in flocked brocade and what used to be called a corselette. Frankly, she looked better in her prison uniform.

We are now going A List with actor Ben Affleck, wearing Dolce & Gabbana.

The trousers are too short, the shirt and tie are a disgrace and the jacket is too tight. He looks forlorn, like a moping kingfisher.

Next up we have a load of nonsense in our Sheer Tedium section, starting with actress Jena Dewan Tatum wearing WTF bugbear, Minge Maestro Julian Macdonald.

Macdonald is the silliest thing to come out of Wales since they actually named  a place there Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. And this creation is  simply a black lace truss.

Next up is actress Zoey Deutsch, wearing Rodarte.

This is a white lace truss. When did trusses become an actual thing, sartorially speaking? Is there a world hernia epidemic?  *puzzled*

Now we have singer Ellie Goulding wearing Valentino. Valentino!

This horror costs £5,000. Ellie seems to be standing in a torn cardboard box filled with cobwebs. Signor Valentino, who always resembles a man rolled in creosote,  is clearly suffering from advanced sunstroke. 

Bringing up the rear of our Sheer Tedium section is Arianna Huffington, founder of The Huffington Post.

This is not a case of flashing your bra. This is a built in bra. It is just terribly, terribly, terrible. WTF is also in great indignation at the un-manicured toes.

Lastly, and I AM NOT LEAVING HER OUT WHATEVER YOU MAY SAY, Kim Kardashian walking the streets wearing lace cycling shorts by La Perla and a very shiny bra.

Not desperate. Not even a bit desperate. Apparently she was going to a friend’s house for dinner. Had she walked into WTF’s house dressed like that, she would have been wearing her dinner. Idiot.

This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF of Islington, who has had enough of white anchovies. They are unspeakable, taste like old socks and pop up in dishes where white anchovies are not supposed to be. Like in a Salad Niçoise. Or a Caesar Salad (by the way, the number of places which spell it Ceaser Salad is a whole It’s Got To Go on its own).  Stop serving these excrescences. Now!!!!

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. There were lots of excellent comments last week which kept WTF from gloom so keep it up. Not to mention  your  suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good  x

Hallo Readers,

Who knew politics would be this tricky? President Maydogan certainly didn’t. She seemed to think that we would leave the EU with everyone lined up to wave us off like in The Sound of Music where the kiddies sang  at Captain von Trapp’s posh party at his house on the lake in Salzburg. “So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodnight……” Everyone would be all smiles over the champagne and canapés, swapping email addresses and trade deals. “You will come to visit, won’t you Jean-Claude? Don’t be a stranger!” “I vill, Theresa. And please can ve have fifty thousand Range Rovers by next Thursday, ve are running low”. Sadly, it is not quite turning out like that. Those dastardly foreigners are playing hardball. You have Jean-Claude Juncker and Michel Barnier round to dinner at No 10 and they bring bile instead of bonbons. They sit round your table feasting on beef in red wine (outside caterers, apparently) and drinking your claret whilst listening to David Davis, the Brexit secretary, telling them the same story three times about how he once sued the UK Government. And how do they thank you? They tell you to your face that you do not understand what you are doing and that “the EU is not a golf club” where you can just cancel your subscriptions. They expect to be paid the full whack on the divorce settlement and they are keeping the apostle spoons or there will be no trade deal. And you can forget about the secret negotiations on the settlement you were hoping for. As they leave, rather than waxing lyrical over the magnificent cuisine, they tell you that they are “ten 10 times more sceptical” than when they arrived.

And worse was yet to come. The next day, they slag you off to their mate Angela, saying that you are living in another galaxy and are delusional. Angela then suggests in public that you could not find your arse with both hands and a map. And then they leak the whole dinner conversation to a German newspaper which has the temerity to print it in German, so that you have to translate it into English using Google and we all know how irritating that is. That is the last time you serve them boeuf bourguignon. Next time they can eat jellied eels.  Bastards.

Of course this is being explained to us as “negotiations”. But if you constantly attack your negotiating partners in public like a cut-price Boudicca and tell them point blank over dinner that you are not paying a penny piece and you want negotiations kept confidential and certain things sewn up in months, you expose yourself to the risk that they will view the UK Government as out of its depth, under-prepared and winging it. David Davis in particular, seems unable to grasp that we are bound by contractual and legal commitments. You do not just get up and walk away, like rising from your chair after a restaurant meal. May’s complaint that the EU is interfering with the General Election is just bonkers. And in the meantime the public, promised that Europe needed us more than we needed them, is up in arms at its refusal to let us have the same benefits outside as inside, only without paying for them. The fact is, as any schoolkid would tell you, that you have to be in it to win it. Who knew politics would be this tricky? Well, most of us actually.

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Today is WTF’s Fifth Birthday and we are celebrating it at the Annual Met Gala in New York.  The theme was a celebration of Comme des Garçons designer Rei Kawakubo and almost everyone looked ludicrous. Let us start with singer Pharrell Williams and his wife Helen Lasichanh.

Pharrell was Co-Chair of the event but he did not give his outfit much thought. Writing the word Rei on your kneecap in biro is hardly making an effort. Helen is wearing Comme des Garçons and looks like Po from the teletubbies. Eh Oh.

Next up we have actress Hailee Steinfeld, wearing Vera Wang.

This is a straitjacket with a peplum. If you were not certifiable before you put it on, you would be after you had so this is a self-fulfilling prophecy. The glistening turd on her head is a metaphor for the whole look.

This is rapper Wiz Khalifa, wearing Thom Browne.

Wiz seems to have high stepped out of the chorus line in of 42^nd Street where the wardrobe mistress washed his costume at too high a temperature. The waistcoat would have to take a bus to get to the trousers and the hems would need to hitchhike to the ankles, only to find those ridiculous boots when they arrived.

And here is Beyonce’s sister, singer Solange (or, as WTF likes to call her, Solangé), also wearing Thom Browne.

There is nothing wrong with wearing a padded coat over your outfit in inclement weather. WTF has several of them, all different levels of warmth, including a white one that makes her look like a polar bear with weight issues. But Solangé is wearing this padded coat as an outfit, which comes with its own trailing corrugated groundsheet.

This is model Chrissy Teigen, wearing Marchesa.

Chrissy chose to come dressed as a series of snow flakes melting into a dirty puddle. Marchesa should have saved this one up for the Bergdorf Goodman windows come Christmastime.

Another model, Kendall Jenner, wearing La Perla Couture (i.e. undies).

WTF does not even know what this is supposed to be but she does know that there is not enough of it. Particularly at the back. Not that there is one.

Maybe Kendall wants to be a perambulating wank fantasy but WTF wishes that she would go and perambulate somewhere else. Like Siberia.

Meet celebrity son Jaden Smith (his parents are Will and Jada), wearing Louis Vuitton.

There are three reasons to dislike this. First, the stupid trousers. Second, the fact that he shaved off his dreadlocks and brought them to the party as a fashion accessory. And third, the hideous mouth grill.

And of course there was singer Rihanna, wearing Comme des Garçons.

Rihanna is dressed as a giant mutant dahlia, like something out of one of those science fiction movies when someone has overdone it with the chemical crop spraying. It is certainly colourful but it gives you one hell of a headache. WTF does however confess to a sneaking admiration for the laced sandals and for Rihanna’s general élan.

Of course there was Madonna, wearing Moschino.

WTF aficionado Alison sagely observed that Madge is masquerading as a veteran of the Mosul campaign, complete with tits more squashed than the Victoria Line at 8 am, leather gloves, a camouflage netting boa and a khaki water-bottle/handbag.  And she was another one with a mouth grill.  What is going on here?

And finally we have another Co-Chair of the event, singer Katy Perry wearing Maison Margiela.

This is, to use WTF’s new favourite expression, a load of my arse, a blood-spattered bridal gown with an absolutely revolting minge donut like a blood-soaked merkin. And then there was the veil, a sort of Salvador Dali insanity with wing mirrors. Wing mirrors! At least you can see who is pissing themselves with laughter behind you. 

And this is what she wore at the after party, this time by Ulanya Sergeenko.

Katy is clearly having a Major Minge Crisis. Call an ambulance!! Or ask Hailee to lend her the straitjacket.

This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado Andrew Purcell, leaver of wonderful comments on the blog (read them – they’re brilliant). Andrew has brought these Barracuda jeans to WTF’s attention. They sell at Nordstrom for $425 and are daubed with fake mud.

Now WTF likes a laugh as much as the next person but this is just not funny. $425 for fake mud? If you really want to look like a leftover from Woodstock, buy a pair of jeans from Gap and roll around in some real mud. If it isn’t muddy, you will still have loads of cash left over with which to buy a watering can and make your own mud in the back garden or local park.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. There were some fine comments last week which kept WTF from worrying. Take your inspiration from Andrew Purcell and keep them coming. Not to mention your suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good  x

Hallo Readers, 

Here in the People’s Republic of Islington, home of the Guardian-reading, quinoa-consuming, Pinot-Noir-drinking, poncy Liberal Elite, things are, not to put too fine a point on it, tough. Two silver-haired men, both aged 67, are wreaking havoc with the things we once held dear, the red flags we all revered. We voted Remain by 75%-25%. It was 1931 when either Islington North or Islington South & Finsbury (where WTF resides) last elected a Tory MP. We don’t do Tories in Islington. Or Liberal Democrats, although they did get within 500 votes of Emily Thornberry in Islington South in 2005 and once ran the Council until we turfed them out, sick of their sanctimonious ways and their road humps the size of Becher’s Brook. Our local football team, Arsenal, had a golden spell between 1997 and 2004, winning the League and the FA Cup and sometimes both at the same time. Ah, happy days!

But now Islington is menaced by two silver-haired sexagenarians who are stuck in the past and ignoring calls for them to go.  One is Arsene Wenger, the only manager in world football to decide when he should quit. Arsenal won the League in 2003/2004, going through the whole season unbeaten but since then they have been the nearly men. On Sunday they will most likely fail to qualify for the Champions’ League for the first time in 20 years and then get stuffed by Chelsea in the Cup Final the following week. Supporters have taken to chartering planes to fly over grounds trailing  Wenger Must Go banners but he is going nowhere, intending to go on and on (like Mrs Thatcher) because he genuinely believes that he is the right man to lead the team.

As does Jeremy Corbyn, MP for Islington North and Leader of the Labour Party. On the whole, the country does not believe that he can find his arse with SatNav, let alone run the country in times of Brexit. Until his election as Leader, he had never run anything, never held government office, had been camped on the outskirts of mainstream political life, firmly rooted in the politics of the 1980’s and endlessly defying the party whip. Even after he was elected to succeed Ed Miliband following the crushing defeat in 2015, he has defied himself, ignoring Party policy to vote against Trident. His defence of staying in Europe was perfunctory and he buggered off on holiday in the middle of the Referendum campaign, something for which we Islingtonians cannot forgive him. Theresa May is so dull and unspontaneous that she makes ditchwater look like Krug but at PMQ’s she regularly nutmegs Corbyn in a way that would make Wenger gurgle with pleasure, whilst his ability to miss an open goal is sadly familiar to those of us who have watched Arsenal all season. But like Wenger, Corbyn firmly believes that he is the right man to lead the team, buoyed up by his fervent band of his disciples, some of whom are not even party members, who cheer him to the rafters and dismiss anyone objecting to him as Zionists and Blairites – even when they are neither.

So what the hell do we do come June? Our season tickets are up for renewal – do we fork out another £1700 a seat and go on suffering? Do we vote Labour and endorse  someone we know is not Prime Ministerial (and please don’t quote me Donald Trump – look how well that one is working out), half of whose Party despises him? Do we forget about his betrayal of Remain? Do we vote (shudder) Lib Dem and hope that Corbyn will resign with dignity whilst Theresa May carries on destroying the country, the NHS, the benefits system, legal aid and schools? Do we piss away a vote on the Greens or the Monster Raving Loonies or the Manuka Honey Party? Thornberry has a majority of 12,500, Corbyn’s is 21,000. It might not really matter what we do here in Islington, because we will not vote Tory (or rather, vote for Theresa and what she loftily referred to yesterday as “her team”) but across the country many lifelong Labour voters will. This is a nightmare.

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We turn to the sartorial shitpile of the week, starting with singer Harry Styles from mega boy-band One Direction, wearing Edward Styles with Gucci loafers.

Harry is wearing a bespoke horse blanket.

That two fingered Churchillian victory salute should be inverted and directed towards whoever devised this ridiculous getup. 

And this is Harry’s bandmate Liam Payne, wearing Gucci.

Liam is in a relationship with Cheryl Tweedy-Cole-Fernandez-Versini-soon-to-be-Payne-maybe, who has just has his baby. Obviously there was some money left over from the layette because Liam splashed out £2,000 on this jejune doggie jacket and ripped-to-within-an-inch-of-their-life jeans which, if you saw them in a skip, you would not pick up even with disinfected tongs.

Next up, we have Strictly Come Dancing dancer Katya Jones, wearing Somi Han.

It is hard to criticise Katya for anything, given that she and Ed Balls brought us THE best and most life-enhancing television moment of 2016, namely their Gangnam Style routine on SCD. But even if she did a side order of Mother Teresa this would still be unforgivable, from the cottage loaf on her head to the swirly shower curtain with lurid orange bra, visible seams and more hanging beads than the entrance to a Bangkok brothel. 

This is singer Halsey at the Wango Tango festival. And no, WTF has no idea what the hell is going on here.

“Knowledge is sacred”. Really? To almost quote Alexander Pope, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Here is the rear view.

It looks like she picked up her mail on her way out of the house and shoved it down the back of her trousers. As for the front, she looks as if she is wearing a cricket box to protect her non-existent goolies. 

To the Cannes Film Festival Red Carpet and pointless socialite Hofit Golan, wearing Stephane Rolland.

The front view is fine if you ignore the spume of mosquito netting flowing out of her buttocks. However the back view is not.

Sigh. Why is this even allowed? Next…

This is actress Emily Ratajkowski wearing Peter Dundas.

Game of Thrones fans will recognise this outfit as a take on Melisande’s smoke monster, only that came out of her front bottom whilst this is emerging from her back bottom. Bottom trains are definitely a thing at Cannes. There is also a preponderance of peekaboo.

Let us meet actress Li_Yuchun, wearing Maison Margiela designed by John Galliano.

Well, it is novel, like a naughty schoolboy going wading. WTF even has some fondness for the hat. But try as she may, she cannot escape the ineluctable conclusion that those things hanging down are a cross between the tzitzits worn by Orthodox Jews and strands of toilet paper caught in her waistband.

Given Galliano’s conviction for anti-semitic outbursts, this is, to say the very least, tactless.

Oh this last one is bad. BAD. Here are TV personality Angelique “Frenchy” Morgan (left) and actress/serial showoff Phoebe Price  (right), out and about in LA.

Frenchy is wearing lacy fuchsia long johns with what looks suspiciously like a ripped crotch and is tottering about balanced on a couple of tin cans. Phoebe is wearing a shaping body over cobwebs and under what appears to be a garment comprising minge-chaps and a clerical yoke, topped off with a priestly hat and flowing leopardskin dental coat. The two of them are a perambulating traffic hazard.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Sarah from Edinburgh, who has taken justified exception to this Chanel boomerang. It is on sale worldwide, including in Australia, for the equivalent of £1,040.

Indigenous Australians were unhappy at what they saw as cultural appropriation, not to mention a blatant ripoff. Chanel grovelled and issued a statement claiming that it ‘is extremely committed to respecting all cultures, and regrets that some may have felt offended’. But it is still selling them to idiots with more money than sense. It’s Got to Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week.  Keep those comments coming as well as your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good  x

Hallo Readers,

After Manchester, some small things made you feel that humanity had not completely died at 10 30 pm on Monday. Doctors and nurses came into work whether they were supposed to be there or not whilst hotels and restaurants donated food. Taxi drivers ferried hysterical families away from the Arena free of charge. People opened their doors to those shocked and stranded from out of town, offering tea and a bed for the night. The citizens gathered together in Albert Square in solidarity, Christians, Moslems, Hindus, Jews, Sikhs, Buddhists, those of no religion at all and supported each other.

But as usual, the upheaval dislodged the slime which always slithers to the surface on occasions such as these. The usual motormouth rabble-rousers blaming the Government for letting Islamic terrorists into the UK (even though Salman Abedi was born in Manchester). The vile Katie Hopkins calling for “a final solution”, later surreptitiously amended to “a true solution”. Invoking the Holocaust was really what we needed this week, Katie. American right-wingers berating us for condemning Trump’s travel ban, which last night was again stayed by the US Court of Appeals and Trump himself attacking NATO leaders over the evils of migration. Trump, champion of Islamophobia who curtseyed to the Saudis, those avid supporters of terror. Journalists bashing at the doors of distraught parents and siblings who were sat inside waiting for news of those still missing. Those who know nothing about Islam insisting that what Abedi did was in total compliance with his religion, wanting to intern Moslems, condemning the community for failing to turn him in – even though it turned out that numerous people had reported him to the authorities who had done nothing about it. The only laugh of the week was when the former UKIP MEP Janice Atkinson, who now sits as an independent, called for the death penalty for suicide bombers. That is the sort of deep thinking we need to tackle the issue. On the other hand, on the left the conspiracy theorists were out in force, suggesting that the Tories had planned the attack as an election strategy and that Theresa May was a terrorist. Today Jeremy Corbyn will make a speech suggesting that our invasions of Iraq, Afghanistan and Libya have, at least in part, caused the rise of ISIS. He is not wrong but he will get dogs’ abuse for it. 

When Thomas Mair murdered Jo Cox MP, no one demanded that the white population of Batley & Spens should apologise, let alone the British white population. When Dylan Roof broke into a church in Charleston S.C. and shot nine black worshippers, no-one demanded that the white population of that city apologise, let alone the American white population. But it is apparently incumbent upon every Moslem in the UK, however law-abiding, however patriotic, however devout, to grovel for the horrifying, murderous acts of a few. We are faced with deadly killers, deadlier still because some of them are not the obvious rampant activists but petty criminals, wastrels and dope-smokers, often leading the most un-Islamic of lives. Clearly the situation needs the utmost vigilance. Where there is suspicion it must be rigorously  followed up, whatever the budget. Mistakes have been made in the past and checks have not been properly carried out, people admitted or allowed to stay or permitted to remain at liberty when they should not have been. But vilifying a whole community will not work, is wholly unfair and lessens us as a nation.

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Let us try and cheer ourselves up with our review of the week’s fashion fiascos, starting with Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge wearing Alexander McQueen, seen here with her little daughter Princess Charlotte.

Kate is 35 but looks like Dame Vera Lynn extolling the White Cliffs of Dover. The meh-coloured dress has pleated tits, aptly described by WTF aficionado Gerry as “slipper tits”, making her look more droopy than a pair of spaniel’s ears. Meanwhile, there is never an excuse for a fascinator. Wear a hat or don’t. Shit or get off the pot.  

To the Cannes Film Festival and actress Jeanne Balibar wearing Jacquemus, seen here with her former spouse, actor Mathieu Amalric. How very Gallic…

Film critic Jonathan Romney, on duty at Cannes, brought this excrescence to WTF’s attention and was anxious to let her know that the suit is exactly the same at the back as the front, like looking at yourself in a rear view mirror.

Next up is actress Salma Hayek, wearing Gucci.

WTF had to check her drink to make sure that it had not been spiked but this is what the outfit is meant to look like,  the pattern and cut so mind-numbing that even Agnetha and Anni-Frid from ABBA would have rejected it as OTT.

And here is actress Eva Longoria wearing Balmain.

Eva seems to be standing behind a one-dimensional silhouette of a giant bunny rabbit, as if she were at a funfair having her picture taken. As for the flesh-coloured illusion panels, whoever’s flesh they are supposed to match, it is not hers, whilst the zip is so obvious and bulky it could probably be seen from the moon.

Here is singer Rihanna wearing Adam Selman.

Rihanna is dressed as a medieval Damsel in Distress. WTF is a Damsel in Distress at the sight of the panty-peekaboo and the bodice resembling a silken bullet-proof vest.

And away from Cannes, this is Rihanna again, this time in New York wearing a trouser suit by Mathew Adams Dolan.

Rihanna should donate this oversized monstrosity to White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer, who likes a roomy jacket, especially one with sleeves big enough for three Popeyes on steroids. 

To the Billboard Music Awards where a feast of horror awaited, starting with rapper Machine Gun Kelly.

When the Fashion Police and the Earhole Police come looking for him, Machine Gun can slip into an Indian restaurant and stand up against the flock wallpaper, safe in the knowledge that he will escape detection. Meanwhile his trousers and his ankles have had a major falling-out – or are they just tucked into his socks?

Singer Rita Ora is back again, wearing Signor Sheer aka Francesco Scognamilio.

Half a couture fencer wrapped in a fishing net. And of course, being Rita, there are the mandatory arse-cheeks.

Now we have singer Halsey, quite the regular these days, wearing Juun.J.

Wearing your trench coat as a skirt whilst flashing your bra is like seeing Inspector Clouseau perform in a cross-dressing cabaret.

This is possibly the most annoying person ever. Meet You Tube sensation Chris Oflyng.

No, really, an urge to slap him is the automatic response of all right-thinking people. And that is before you watch him babbling on in a high-pitched squeal. He is already in his jim-jams and should be sent to bed without supper.

Of course there is singer Z Lala.

Z Lala apparently sings in 19 different languages, including sign language. The latex dress has more holes than a colander but WTF is chiefly struck by the rubber ball on her head, like a circus seal. Here is a sign to  her from WTF:

Finally, Cameroonian singer Dencia is another staple on any music awards’ worst-dressed list.

Dencia steps out (or used to) with Manchester United star Paul Pogba, with whom she allegedly had such noisy rumpy-pumpy in a hotel one night that guests either dialled 999 or complained vociferously to the management. Imagine their reaction had they caught sight of this ensemble, like a deconstructed Rubik’s Cube with Minge Mask and Dencia’s head poking out of the Rubik-ruff like a bad photoshop.

This week’s “It’s Got to Go” controversially comes from WTF aficionado Keith from Melbourne who nominates Jeremy Corbyn. Why? Let Keith explain it himself. “Simply because he’s making Australian politicians look good and that is unforgivable. How very dare he? We rightly have the monopoly on stupid, unintelligible, supercilious, shallow, self-serving, ignorant prats.  You  have Red Ken and  Missy May. Enough already. He’s Got to Go”.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week.  Keep those comments coming as well as your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good  x

Hallo Readers,

Our glorious leader called an election for next Thursday so we could all back her glorious vision of Brexit. We know that it is a glorious vision although we don’t know what it is because we have yet to be told what it is. But it will be glorious. Even if we end up with no deal at all, it will still be glorious. And we must believe her even though we have no idea how glorious it will be. And neither does she. As Tertullian said, not that he actually said it, “Credo quia impossible” – which means “I believe although it is impossible”. Anyway, President Maydogan cannot allow herself to be distracted by an election from planning her negotiation strategy, even though she was the one who called it for the date ten days before negotiations are due to start. She stayed away from the BBC Election Debate on Wednesday because she was too busy thinking about Brexit and said that Corbyn should be thinking about it too, not running about TV studios. The election was supposed to be about her glorious vision, not the NHS and benefits and why people’s houses would be confiscated to pay for their care should they go doolally. In her view, Corbyn should be developing his Brexit strategy for the negotiations even though he never thought he would have to do them and he has to campaign to get elected or he will not be elected, and if he is not elected he will not need to have a strategy anyway because she will be doing the negotiations, not him. 

Her campaign has been a shambles, starting with her calling it at all. Had she said that she wanted a mandate because she was not even elected by her Party let alone the country, that would at least have been honest. Had she said that she wanted to wipe him and Labour out, that would at least have been honest. She did neither. She underestimated him and the way he would come across. She threatened to take people’s homes away until it went down so badly that she took it off the menu. She thought she could avoid the hard questions. She couldn’t. She thought she could parrot the phrase “strong and stable government” and everyone would accept it. They didn’t. She thought she could impress us with her character and determination but she has the personality of a pot plant and has wobbled more than the Millennium Bridge before they had to close it to eliminate the wobble. The cult of personality only works when you have got one. Leadership only works when you show it, and when you show up. She got smaller and less commanding whilst Corbyn went the other way and grew in stature. She even declined to appear on Woman’s Hour. Let us hope her negotiation strategy is better than her election strategy because her election strategy was shit.

And so Readers, by the time you log on to WTF next week (where you will find much-needed light relief in the shape of the Summer Stinker Poll), President Maydogan will probably still be in charge with her useless, lightweight bunch of Ministers. Corbyn will still lead the Labour Party because his vote will have stood up and we shall at least be spared his even more lightweight bunch of Shadow Ministers and the horror of Diane Abbot as Home Secretary. Not that Amber Rudd is much better. Those who consoled themselves with the thought that he would be wiped out and have to resign will not even get that, because he’s done an Arsene Wenger and he won’t be going anywhere. With any luck, Paul Nuttall will go away and save the world with his scientific discoveries and Tim Farron will just go away. It will all be the same as it is now, only with the Glorious Leader holed below the water line by her own hubris. We have had weeks of this nonsense – and for what?

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We start our weekly review of the sartorial shit-pile with football pundit Alan Shearer, looking a right state during the BBC Cup Final coverage last Saturday. (Arsenal won. Just saying.)

Alan’s dishevelled appearance suggested that he had spent the previous night in the cells and come straight to Wembley from the magistrates court. Unshaven, cutaway collar like the butler in Downton Abbey and a tie not so much askew as curved like a banana. Smarten yourself up, Al!

Gucci had its cruise wear collection on show this week and here is Jared Leto making a show of himself in some, as per usual.

]ared has been rummaging in the Gucci dressing up box  again.  His velour bathrobe, or a very good approximation, can be found at T K Maxx for a fiver and he is wearing a random selection of candy-hued, over-priced, con-clothes paired with silver space bootees like Capt. Spock at a Gay Pride March.

To Cannes, where the Film Festival drew to a close. This is model Irina Shayk, who gave birth only recently to Bradley Cooper’s baby, wearing Balmain.

Like a slashed rubber tyre floating in an oil slick. Even a  beauty like Irina had no chance with this monstrosity,

Cannes also hosted the amfAR gala where models wore ridiculous clothing. Let us start with Laury Thillerman, wearing Jean Paul Gauthier.

Not only is it ugly as sin (all it needs is a wimple to go full Canterbury Tales) but the metal collar makes her look like a nodding doggie on the back shelf of a car.

Then there was Shanina Shaik wearing Philipp Plein. 

This is a bit too bacofoil but that said, there needs to be more of it and a lot less of everything else including the side boob. Loving the bracelet though….

And there was also model Bella Hadid, nearly wearing Ralph & Russo. Mind how you go with this one…..

The fabric is exquisite. With a lining, it would have been great. But there is no lining, not even of any kind. We can however congratulate Bella’s waxing technician ……

Bella is gorgeous. But this is vulgar. WTF has spared you the arse cheeks because she is bored by arse cheeks. Enough already with the arse cheeks. 

Finally, we encounter Britain’s got Talent judge Amanda Holden wearing Minge Maestro Julien Macdonald. Extra careful now….

Amanda’s only talent is for crawling up Simon Cowell’s rectum (now that could be an interesting programme, Britain’s Got Arse-Lickers) and so she has to wear this sort of tat to keep people interested in her. BGT is supposed to be a family show, not a peep show but Amanda cannot resist baring her creosoted tits and bits. Just go away, you ridiculous woman.

This week’s It’s Got to Go is on behalf of 75,000 BA passengers affected by another catastrophic computer failure (there have been several over the past year) which grounded all BA flights last Saturday and many more for the rest of the bank holiday. Aspirant passengers spent their weekend sitting on airport floors or standing in interminable queues with no information about what was happening, when it would happen or whether it would happen at all with their luggage at large. Alex Cruz, BA’s Spanish Chairman, avoided all questions until Monday, although he did post encouraging messages on the BA website wearing a high-viz jacket – at BA HQ!! As if the sight of a hairy-faced corporate arsewipe was going to encourage anyone, except to thoughts of violence. On Monday, Cruz assured us that he was “profusely sorry” but saw no reason to resign and denied that his cost cutting measures, including outsourcing the IT department to India, was in any way responsible. On Tuesday, luggage was still AWOL and passengers phoning to enquire as to its whereabouts found themselves fobbed off on a premium rate number at a squillion pounds a minute. This is all part of what WTF aficionado Ayesha from Stepney  aptly termed “Corporate Contempt”. Sod the customers. Don’t tell them what’s going on. Play them a recorded message which tells them nothing whilst ripping them off to listen to it. Let them spend their long-awaited, much-anticipated, non-holiday treated like shit. It’s Got To Go.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week.  Keep those comments coming as well as your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Next week, when you are weary from watching the election all night, and from the election generally, WTF will lighten your load with the WTF Summer Stinker Poll – no rant and twenty revolting fashion disasters for you to choose from. See you next Friday. Be good. 

Hallo Readers,

What with the horrific events of last weekend and the General Election campaign, this is the time to cheer ourselves up with some inconsequential silliness. So no rant this week, no It’s Got To Go, just 20 fashion shockers from WTF’s blog this 2017 for you to peruse whilst you nurse your election party hangovers and/or lack of sleep and moan about whoever it is who has won, if indeed any party has actually won. To be frank with you, WTF has probably not only been up all night watching the results (she may still be at it as you read this) but she also needed a break from ranting. She has been screaming at the TV all week, whether it is President Maydogan or Boris Johnson or the idiot Angela Rayner or Donald bloody Trump or murderous fuckers who think Allah wants you to slice people open in the name of religion. The normal splenetic service will be resumed next week.

Anyway, what follows are Super-Stinkers. All you have to do is to study these clothing calamities and then to vote for as few or as many of them as you like. They are featured in alphabetical order by first name so there is no indication of WTF’s preferences or personal views. (Should you ask, there are one or two she thinks are particularly revolting, but you are the electorate, not her). There is no Single Transferable Vote nonsense here – you just vote for whoever you want and as many as you want, as many times as you want, and tell everyone you know to do the same. Bigly.

Brace yourselves. What follows is BAD, BAD, BAD. Off we go!

1. Ariel Winter, actress, wearing who knows what.

Ariel allegedly wore this as a statement against body-shaming. Frankly, WTF and her pals did not spend years fighting for feminism so that women could go out dressed in what appears to be a deconstructed centurion’s uniform with an open-wide tit window and a pube pelmet. 

2. Chris Lane, singer, wearing who knows what.

Chris is wearing his granny’s curtains. Let us hope that he asked her first and that the summer nights are not keeping her awake. Extra minus points for the matching pocket hankie (as if the jacket needed any more colour) and the trousers, which are engaged in a Mexican stand-off with his ankles.

3. Halsey, singer, wearing Juun.J.

Halsey is wearing her trench coat as a skirt, her bra as a top and a ball of household string as footwear. Thrifty, yes, but horrid.

4. Helen Lasichanh, model, wife of Pharell Williams and recent mother of triplets, wearing Comme des Garçons. 

The Met Gala this year honoured Rei Kawakubo of Commes des Garçons so Helen was at least adhering to the theme of the night. However, there is no excuse for turning up anywhere dressed as a Teletubby. And when you look at her face, you can see that she shares that opinion.

5. Jared Leto, actor, wearing Gucci.

Jared was so thrilled by the new Gucci Cruise Collection that he decided to wear all of it at the same time. WTF is particularly exercised by the pink velvet dressing gown, which looks highly flammable, and the stupid silver space bootees with their oh-so-artfully-undone laces.

6. Jessica Pimentel, actress, wearing Malan Breton.

There is nothing wrong with the dress. There just needed to be more of it. A lot more.

7. Katy Perry, singer, wearing Maison Margiela.

What this had to do with the theme at the Met Gala, Heaven alone knows, but Katy’s blood-soaked bridal outfit, complete with minge donut and headdress adorned with wing mirrors (WHY??????), was a shocker.

8.Kylie Jenner, pointless celebrity, wearing Balmain.

This absurd concoction looks like Wilma Flintstone after being savaged by Dino the Dinosaur. 

9. Lady Victoria Hervey, pointless aristocrat, wearing who knows what.

Lady Victoria was really going for it, combining badgers’-bum hair, a plunging neckline/skintight trousers combo displaying more bones than an ossuary and a double helping of camel-toe.

10. Lewis Hamilton, champion motor racing driver, wearing Givenchy.

At some point over the past few years, Lewis has gone full fashion victim. Here is he sporting (see what I did there?) the top half of a bull-fighter and the bottom half of a navvy, complete with jeans with incorporated kneeling-pads and builders’ boots. 

11. Lizzie Cundy, professional WAG, wearing who knows what.

Lizzie’s public appearances have descended into desperation, as evidenced by her wearing this net curtain over black panties in a London street. Surely this is a public order offence? And if it isn’t, it should be.

12. Marnie Simpson, TV reality star, wearing who knows what.

At no 2, we had Chris in his granny’s curtains, and now we have Marnie in her granddad’s long johns, unfortunately displaying more lumps and bumps than the tarmac on a neglected country road.

13. Nancy dell’Olio, pointless celebrity, wearing who knows what.

The under-slip is patently not up to the job, the dress is too tight and the sandals are ridiculous. And what has happened to her face? 

14. Nicki Minaj, rapper, wearing a Mugler jacket and a pair of leather shorts by Givenchy. Careful – boob alert!

Both the jacket and the shorts are perfectly fine. Which is more than can be said for the bare breast with a bit of tape masking the nipple, not to mention the silly sunglasses like the eye-protection your dentist wears when attending to your gnashers.

15. Princess Caroline of Hanover, wearing Chanel.

Full credit to Her Serene Highness for managing a smile, given that she appears to have been sliced into segments with her head and shoulders pasted onto one of those bridal dolls you find on a wedding cake. Karl Lagerfool strikes again…

16.Rickie Fowler, golfer, wearing a jacket by Vineyard Vines.

Rickie was at the Kentucky Derby so the horse motif had some relevance to the event. But why he teamed the blue, pink and white of the jacket with the hospital-scrubs green of the trousers and tie and the brown of the shoes is a mystery right up there with the Bermuda Triangle and why Arsène Wenger was awarded a new contract at Arsenal.

17. Salma Hayek, actress, wearing Gucci.

As WTF noted at the time, ABBA would have given the nostril to this unflattering puce swirlfest with flared trousers, worn inexplicably with multi-hued trainers and a daft embroidered bag. That pattern is positively migraine-inducing.

18. Sundy Carter, Baseball Wife (ex), wearing who knows what. 

Blue lipstick. Tits. X marks the spots. Minge. The whole nine yards. Offensive. And then some.

19. Tommy Dorfman, actor, wearing Viviene Westwood Man.

The suit is very Mr Toad goes trans and there is simply no justification, not even at all, for the sparkling disco wellies.

20. Tyra Banks, model and TV host, wearing who knows what.

What is the point of a double breasted lace jacket and trousers? They are as much use as tits on a fish. And why has she struck that knock-kneed pose, like a child wanting a wee-wee?

OK Readers. Now you have to decide which one is the WTF Summer Stinker 2017. Vote early and vote often. The results will be announced next Friday 16 June. Let us meet again then. Be good.