Hallo Readers,
WTF has returned from the Antipodes and, to be quite honest, she wishes that she hadn’t. This is not a slur on her beloved family and friends. But honestly. Not only is it cold, grey and wet, it seems that despite a number of world events of some note, including Joe Biden’s decision to pardon his son for anything and everything that he has ever done or might have done or thought about doing, the French Government going tits up and Syria falling apart, the only thing that anybody seems to want to talk about is Gregg Wallace, the ghastly oik whom the BBC has been foisting upon us for 20 years. Just looking at him, let alone listening to him, is enough to make you itch to throw tomatoes, preferably rotten ones. Ironically, Wallace used to trade in fruit and veg and could have sold you the produce required. To the surprise of absolutely no one, it turns out that Wallace, now on his fourth marriage, is a bit of a lad. Allegedly he likes to talk about his sex life to those around him on the set. It is also alleged that he has walked around a studio wearing only a cock sock and further alleged that he has been decidedly over familiar with colleagues. And has indulged in what people of Wallace’s mindset and sad middle-aged men like to call banter. Except of course that usually banter is not banter at all but an excuse for men to be crude, vulgar and cruel with a double side order of sexism. Wallace is so thick that he took to social media last weekend to defend himself against these allegations and to point out that the only people who seem to have complained were a ‘handful of middle-class women of a certain age’. Because nothing demonstrates an absence of sexism more than the suggestion that the only people who failed to warm to his bon mots and cheeky chappie persona were dried up old hags who are no longer interested in sex and so hostile to his rampant masculinity. After 24 hours in which his management and PR teams sought urgent treatment for PTSD, Wallace back-tracked and apologised to anyone who might have been offended by what he said, in other words anyone with a brain. The BBC has called in m’learned friends to investigate and has pulled various forthcoming programmes in which Wallace would have delighted the Nation over Christmas.
The thing is, Readers, that if you employ a lairy oaf to be a lairy oaf, and overlook complaints by women that he is a lairy oaf and warn the lairy oaf not to be a lairy oaf again, and then allow him to continue to be a lairy oaf, you should not act surprised when the shit hits the fan. But then, as we know, the BBC has serious form in this area. It appears that when president-elect Donald Trump said that if you were famous you could do anything, he was right. Especially at the BBC……
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We start our all-male review of the last month’s minging mode at the GW Men of the Year Awards in London with former Olympic mega-athlete Usain Bolt wearing something horrible by Bottega Veneta.
Bottega Veneta? Stai scherzando!!! WTF has never seen such a shocking case of elephant vagina syndrome. And no, you’re not getting a picture.
Also there was actor Asa Butterfield wearing Dior Homme. Yes, you read that right.
So on top of the horrible Bottega Veneta suit on Usain, we now have horrible Dior Homme on Asa. Barbara Kingsolver’s masterpiece, Demon Copperhead transposed David Copperfield from Kent to the drug-addled Ozarks. Now, Dior seem to have transposed Nicholas Nickleby to Shitsville, Texas with Asa as a denim-clad Smike.
Next up we have the increasingly absurd racing driver Lewis Hamilton wearing a tracksuit by Tommy Hilfiger. Grab your sunglasses in order to avoid severe occular damage and stonking migraines.
Oh dear Lord. He has clearly been inspired by Khloe Kardashian…… is that really Lewis’s role model?
Here is actor Ben Whishaw at the Netflix premiere of his new movie Black Doves wearing S.S. Daley.
This is truly tragic. It is more of a case of SOS Daley. Why is he dressed as an orthodox rabbi who has lost his hat?
Meet actor Justice Smith wearing Alessandro Michele for Valentino at the Gotham Awards.
If a grasshopper went to a fancy dress party as a Christmas Elf in a ruff and tap shoes, this is what it would look like. What’s with the braiding round the ankles, like those frightful borders people used to put on top of wallpaper in the 1980s?
Here we are at the premiere of the new musical (kill me now) The Devil Wears Prada in London and silly person Canadian makeup artist and personality Jay Manuel. Who knows what this is?
Jay has the effrontery to put ‘public figure’ on his Instagram account so it is little surprise that he ventured out in this preposterous getup, looking for all the world like something out of WTF’s favourite portrait The Skating Vicar by Henry Raeburn. Only unlike the Reverend Robert Walker, Jay is wearing nonsensical yomping boots instead of skates and has skipped the trewsies.
This is actor Guy Pearce at an Oscars event, wearing Bruno Cucinelli.
Guy is 5′ 10″ (1.77 metres) but the combination of velvet smoking jacket and white dress-trousers makes him look like Stumpy, the new dwarf hanging around with Snow White and the boys.
And finally here is actor Jeremy Strong looking plain weird.
He looks like the love child of a serial killer and a bowl of pistachio ice cream. WHAT IS THAT HAIRCUT? Did they find he had scurvy?
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Ayesha from Stepney who is sick of stupid new verbs derived from nouns. WTF has developed a strong aversion to the words ‘to medal’ i.e. to win a medal and ‘to euthanise’. But both are knocked into a cocked hat by Ayesha’s horrifying disclosure of the word ‘to un-alive’ as in ‘he un-alived her’ or ‘she un-alived herself’. WHAT NONSENSE IS THIS???? It’s Got to Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep your tip top comments coming through and your splendid suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday, Be good x