Hallo Readers,
The Nation could not believe its eyes. One minute, the big story of the day was Paula Vennells giving evidence to the Post Office Scandal Inquiry and the next minute the Prime Minister pops out of 10 Downing Street to announce that there will be a General Election on 4 July. There are plenty of rooms in No 10 adorned in gold , as well as a fairly new multi-million pound room specially for press conferences. Someone, however, thought it would be a good idea to send the Prime Minister out into a monsoon without the benefit of either an umbrella or a raincoat, as a result of which he rapidly came to resemble a drowned rat. Only this rat was not leaving the sinking ship, but was instead clinging defiantly to the wreckage, simultaneously urging the country to vote for continuity and stability and claiming that he had changed everything. If ever there was a metaphor for this shit-show of a government, it was Rishi Sunak, braving the elements like King Lear out on the blasted heath. It was impossible that the optics could have been worse, but Readers, they could because added to the optics was the soundtrack coming from beyond the barriers in Whitehall, with some frightful oik yelling Tories Out into a megaphone while someone else played Things Can Only Get Better, the theme song of Labour’s sweeping victory in 1997. As Oscar Wilde remarked of the death of Little Nell, it would take a heart of stone not to laugh. Why the electorate would give this clown five more years ‘to keep the country safe’ when he cannot even protect his own Prada suit from death by water, WTF cannot say, but it takes some gall to maintain the position as the country’s saviour while destroying a suit costing more than most people earn in several months. Meanwhile, whoever told the boss that launching the election alfresco was a good idea was not his friend. Because even the people running No 10 cannot possibly be that stupid.
Fortunately, WTF had already scheduled a blog break in view of certain commitments until 21 June when you will be treated to the horror of the fabled Summer Stinker Poll 2024 because having to listen to this guff for weeks on end is already doing her head in and we’ve only been going for two days at the time of writing. Sunak appeared on all channels this morning, alternately tetchy, belligerent and maniacal, having newly developed a laugh modelled on the late lamented Vincent Price at the end of Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Sunak is more likely to end up in a straitjacket than back at no 10. As for Starmer, he is in the unenviable position of being widely expected to win unless of course he fucks it up, which he may well do, what with his new strategy of disavowing almost everything that he said that he would do once in office. But it is comforting that in six weeks, 14 years of failure, ineptitude, farce and dishonesty will probably come to an end and their endless supply of dim, dull, unqualified ministers, sex scandals, money-grubbing, rule breaking and arrogance. As we Jews say, from your mouth to God’s ear.
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We start our review of the week’s crapulous clothing with our soon-not-to-be-PM Rishi Sunak leaving the podium in Downing Street having completely ruined a perfectly good suit.
As mentioned above, that suit is a goner. It is giving off a sheen like neoprene and he is wetter than a wet hen. Abject.
Next we are in Rio de Janiero for the Brazilian launch of the splendid third series of Bridgerton, which helped to pull WTF out of the slough of despond after Arsenal came up two points short and failed to win the Premier League. Just saying. This is the star of the show Nicola Coughlan, wearing Azzi and Osta.
Nicola is the lovechild of Little Red Riding Hood and a mutant dinosaur and it is weird. It is a good job that Colin Bridgerton did not try and instigate some jiggy-jiggy while Miss Featherstone was wearing this or he would have been shredded finer than a stir fry.
Now we are at the Hard Rock in New York for the launch of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition 2024. Former models made their presence felt, including model Brooks Nader wearing Tom Ford. Tom Ford!!!!
The dress is rather lovely but needs something extra, ie something, anything, underneath it. If a cobweb went to a fancy dress party in tiny knickers, this is what it would look like. But WTF is more concerned by those tits which are not remotely tit shaped and look like a couple of flat hamburger buns.
And social media influencer Achieng Agutu was there too, wearing Dandy Clo.
Blimey. It’s Gluteus Maximus from Gladiator. All she needs is a sword and a lion.
This blog would hardly be complete without actor Anya Taylor-Joy, who continues to plug her new movie Max Max – Furioso. She popped up at the London première wearing this creation by Giambattista Valli.
Look, it is quite simple. Were she opening in 42nd Street or doing a stint on Strictly Come Ice Dancing, she would look fine. But she isn’t. She is out and about in public looking like a floral ice cream cone.
How the mighty are fallen. Here is actor Barry Keoghan plugging Nespresso at the Cannes Film Festival. His suit with little Nespresso capsules is by Burberry.
Ridiculous. And then some. The last time WTF saw Barry, he was dancing round a stately home in Saltburn, wearing nothing at all and looking totally tops. Unlike this ensemble, which resembles kiddies’ pyjamas covered in flying saucers.
From last night’s AmFAR Gala, model and fiancée to singer Robin Thicke, April Love Geary, wearing not enough.
A crotch cup and a bare arse does not constitute fashion. That is all.
Finally, actor Demi Moore graced the Red Carpet wearing Schiaparelli.
Demi looks amazing for someone of any age but for the life of her, WTF cannot fathom why Demi found it necessary to have Concorde protruding from her left breast…….
This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado WTF from Islington who, but for the Grace of the Almighty, nearly collided with an idiot cyclist on a borrowed bike who bolted out from a side road without bothering to look and straight into her path. WTF has had enough, and then more than enough, of bloody cyclists who have completely jettisoned any rules of the road themselves but take massive umbrage when law abiding motorists have the temerity to use the roads they pay bloody road tax for. We are not allowed to ride without lights or while on the phone or to drive the wrong way up a one way street. But they are. It’s Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please keep sending in your suggestions for It’s Got To Go and your top comments, which WTF likes more than anything. Let us meet again on Friday 21 June. Be good x
