Hallo Readers,

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear wtffashionshark….. Exactly one year ago, WTF’s little fashion email to her friends and relations and their friends and relations turned into a proper, or more accurately an improper, blog and 40,000 hits later, here we are. What started as a bilious attack on silly celebritee fashion has become an even more bilious attack on silly celebritee fashion, celebritee generally and a political rant to kick the whole thing off. It’s eclectic but it seems to be popular with you lot and you lot are very popular with me. Long may we continue together and don’t forget that you can get daily doses on @WTF_EEK. Particular thanks to my lovely friends Rebecca Jay, who urged me to start the blog and designed the site and Yvonne Ridley for her endless support on Twitter. Bless you both. 

This week there are local elections and Call Me Dave is quaking  in his Lobbs because of the ineffable rise of UKIP, the UK Independence Party. UKIP has only one policy which is to get out of Europe, but it has come to be synonymous with  anti-immigration unrest. Headed by ghastly buffoon Nigel Farage, who exudes the cheery bonhomie of your neighbourhood bookie, UKIP has been giving the Tories a run for their money. But over the past few weeks it has emerged that some UKIP  candidates more properly belong in the Chambers of Horrors at Mme Tussauds than in public office. Councillor John Sullivan from Gloucestershire asserted that physical exercise at school can prevent homosexuality. Godfrey Bloom MEP told a radio station “draconian” employment legislation meant that  it was a problem to hire women of childbearing age and he “would think very carefully about the age of that woman because she has to turn up at 9 o’clock every morning. It’s not rocket science is it?”. Alex Wood has been suspended after a photo showed him making a Nazi Salute.  Alex says he was just reaching for his camera. You know, like you do. His cause was not helped by the fact that vile racist comments were found on his Facebook page (he says he was hacked) and he was pictured stripped to the waist in front of the Union Jack with a knife in his teeth. You know, like you do. Then there is Chris Scotton who was binned as a candidate in Leicester at the weekend after it emerged that he had backed online groups with racist views and Sue Bowen from Cornwall who was chucked out when it emerged that she had been a member of the BNP. And then there is Anna-Marie Crampton who was suspended after her interesting assertion that the Jews staged the Holocaust in order to create a Zionist state. She says she was hacked too. These UKIP members don’t have much luck,  do they? Maybe they should all stay off Facebook.

Farage admits there are a couple of “bizarre cases” but insists that his party forbids members of the Far Right and turns away people who are “very, very odd”. In which case WTF can only wonder how odd you have to be to get turned away from UKIP. The party is clearly attracting not just fruitcakes  but homophobes and extremists with some seriously nasty views because it panders to inherent fears and prejudices in a time of financial hardships and uncertainties. Whilst Farage airily asserts that there is no racism in his party, he insults both our intelligence and our principles, not least when he claims that scrutiny of his candidates “will harm real democracy”. Meanwhile, no wonder that UKIP want to get out of Europe – all those pesky Directives forbidding discrimination on the grounds of race, sex, sexual orientation, disability, religion and belief. And then there is the European Court of Human Rights - Brits being lectured by Strasbourg and told that freedom of religion and the rights to privacy and family life and free speech should be respected! How very dare they? Is this why we fought World War 2? (Answer – yes).

Let us now pass to the fashion disasters of the week, starting with Welsh songbird Charlotte Church.

No, WTF doesn’t know what the hell is going on here either. Charlotte has been bigger and then smaller and then bigger and then smaller but unless you have a body like Karlie Kloss  you simply cannot get away with an outfit which is a cross between Princess Leia and an Oscar force-fed with pies. And what on earth is going on in the foot department? Ridiculous. And I am being kind.

I wasn’t going to bother with mega-Bimbo Helen Flanagan, but she’s just been voted the FHM Sexiest Woman in the UK. I mean, for fuck’s sake…..

Sexy? Really? Titsy, certainly. And, by the look of it, at least they are her own. But sexy? Helen is not a slapper but how sad that she feels that she has to dress like a slapper in order to make a living. And a gormless slapper at that. The dress is cheap-looking, ill-fitting and slit to the armpits and the Croydon facelift  ponytail is unspeakable. How depressing that some men think this is sexy….

Here is Taboo of the Black Eyed Peas at the Billboard Latino Music Awards.

Taboo (né Jaime Luis Gomez) is a good-looking boy but here he looks like a twat and what is more he has clearly been on the scrounge for this get-up. The trousers are on loan from Justin Bieber whilst the raggedy-hem  jacket is courtesy of the wardrobe department for Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo and Juliet (great film by the way and an even better soundtrack). As for the boots and Mr Toad goggles, they are beyond all comprehension.

Here is another in our series of Designers Who Need to See A Doctor featuring Betsey Johnson.

Oh dear….WTF is not saying that a woman of 70 should have to dress like Hyacinth Bucket but this is way, way past the other extreme.  The top looks like a toddler’s party skirt and also exposes a great deal of sun-damaged décolletage and the trousers, complete with pink bow, would be OTT on an ultra-camp Robinson Crusoe. The booties bear no relationship to the rest of the outfit. It’s terrible.

This is Patricia Arquette wearing new designer Wes Gordon at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner.

The Dinner is basically a mutual wankfest in which  journalists, designers and actors various (why are designers and actors even there?) first congratulate each other on being invited and then laugh sycophantically at the funny turn performed by the serving President. Anyway, WTF had to look twice at this picture before realising that it was not a demented Glenn Close fresh from a spot of bunny boiling. Patricia once starred in Nightmare on Elm Street and this dress is definitely a shocker. Her breasts are positively straining in their bid to escape from the bodice and the skirt looks as if a convention of moths has got busy on the frills. It is very event-inappropriate. Oh, and note to Patricia – next time you are asked out, brush your hair before leaving the house.

Also there for some reason was starlet Hayden Panettiere wearing Katherine Kidd.

Apart from everything else wrong with this dress, it is even more event-inappropriate than Patricia’s. There is too much tit and not enough side and WTF really hates the Hello-I’m-Heidi  hairstyle. However, what is really wrong here is what is also really wrong with  Courtney Stodden, pictured next – that creepy, I’m-a-sweet-little-girl-flashing-my-bits, peek-a-boo Lolita stuff. It just makes your skin crawl.

Here, cluttering up a perfectly good London pavement, are the above-mentioned Courtney, 18, and her husband Doug Hutchison, who will turn 53 at the end of the month.

Readers interested in learning  more about Courtney can revisit WTF’s previous post on the subject but this is the first time that we have seen Doug on these pages. Clad in baseball cap, flip-flops, a scruffy tee-shirt and crumpled shorts like Stormin’ Norman’s cast-offs from  Operation Desert Storm, Doug looks like a slob.  As for Mrs Hutchison, this simpering Barbie exists for no other purpose than to expose her bits to a stunned and disbelieving public. Her leopard-skin pussy pelmet (WTF will not dignify it as a dress because it is so NOT a dress) does not even cover her arse. As friend and WTF aficionado Sian remarked, “That is not even clothes!”. Given that Courtney professes to be a devout Christian, you may also find the following picture somewhat surprising…..

There may be a bit in the Bible which says that it is OK to flash your arse in a public thoroughfare but WTF must have missed it.  Be that howsoever it may be, WTF has some understanding of public order offences and these two are a pair of walking public order offences. One final thought – the happy couple went on to exclusive eatery The Ivy where they proceeded to have lunch.  WTF was having a drink at the bar there one summer when a man and wife were turned away from their wedding anniversary dinner because he was wearing a perfectly nice pair of clean, ironed shorts. Yet this week innocent punters munching on their salmon fish cakes had to  put up with this gruesome twosome. Mind you, such was their degree of shock that they probably needed a St Bernard doing the rounds with the brandy bottle….

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep the comments coming and we shall meet again next Friday. Be good. x

Hallo Readers,

As tuneful pop combo Keane sang, Everybody’s Changing. First the Pope hung up his vestments and quit the Vatican. Then Queen Beatrix hung up her Crown and quit the Royal Palace. Now Sir Alex Ferguson has hung up his hairdryer and quit Manchester Utd. WTF cannot stand the old bugger but he knows his business and you cannot but be awed at his achievements. WTF will even miss him, particularly as his replacement is dour, goggle-eyed Steve Buscemi look-a-likey David Moyes, a man who makes Sir Alex look like the Laughing Policeman.

So who will be next to bow out of the limelight?  At least the people I have mentioned have retired because they are getting on a bit. Two actors off Coronation Street have been arrested in separate incidents for alleged sex offences and are currently off the screen. WTF makes it clear that these are unproven allegations but as Lady Bracknell almost said, to lose one cast member may be regarded as a misfortune. To lose two looks like carelessness. If the police carry on working through Actors’ Equity like this, forcing the scriptwriters to send characters off to look after sick relatives or take a trip to Florida or whatever, the programme could end up as a two hander.

And then this week presaged another potential change – the Queen attended the State Opening of Parliament accompanied by Charles and Camilla and also announced that she is skipping the next Commonwealth Conference and is sending them along instead. Is she planning a job share or should she abdicate? There was a tangible degree of love and affection between Beatrix and Prince Willem-Alexander and he even held his mother’s hand on the Palace balcony, something you would never see with HMQ and Charlie. You certainly see it with Charles and his own sons but whereas Beatrix was happy for her son to become King of the Oranges, you sense that Charles gives HMQ the pip. You also sense that his future subjects want to miss him out altogether and get straight on to William and Kate. Many view Charles, for all his qualities, as an anachronism what with his huge retinue of staff, his penchant for full dress uniforms and chestful of medals (contrast the wonderful old boys who pitched up this week marking the Battle of the Atlantic and the Arctic Convoys – now they earned their medals), his often sulky demeanour and his general air of having wandered in off the set of Downton Abbey. I mean look at him…

Would Britain would be happy to be ruled by someone who can squeeze another man’s wife but gets his valet to squeeze his toothpaste?  And there is the matter of his preferring Camilla to the fragant, if bonkers, Diana and his famously comparing himself to his mistress’ tampon.  It is hardly Charles’ fault if he isn’t William but he is, ironically, a victim of his own success in the way he lovingly brought his sons up. Meanwhile, if Charles is looking for something to do, there may be a couple of locum jobs going in Corrie….

One thing that does not change is the Met Ball, held every May  at the Metropolitan Museum in New York. Every year the clothes are ghastly and this year they were as ghastly as ever. The theme was supposed to be Punk and so it was tricky working out who looked crap because they had read the invitation and who just looked crap. WTF has done her best here but believe me, there were so many contenders for inclusion this week that had she featured them all, Charles would have assumed the Throne by the time you had finished reading…..

 Let us kick off proceedings with gorgeous model Gisele Bundchen wearing, sort of, Anthony Vaccarello.

WTF would rather spend an evening cuddling up to Sir Alex Ferguson than say anything nice about Vaccarello who is incapable of designing a dress without putting onlookers in fear of an imminent minge moment. Last year, it was Anja Rubik whose white dress was slit in places where slits should not be and this year it is Gisele with chainmail barely covering her unmentionables. Vulgar. And then some.

No wonder Kristen Stewart is looking so miserable in this horrible onesie by Stella McCartney.

Stella is a great fan of the onesie but WTF does not share her enthusiasm and even if she did, which she doesn’t, this lacy babygro is repulsive by any standards. It positively billows around the crotch like a bloodsoaked sail and simultaneously seems to cut her from stem to stern as if the victim of some demented Samurai swordsman. She looks awful. And she knows it.

This is Lily Cole wearing Vivienne Westwood.

Now if anyone knows about Punk it is Dame Viv, but this dress is hideous. WTF could forgive the fact that it is made entirely out of rubber and even its light over-skirt over a black under-skirt but it is as slithery and slippery as a used condom and it is giving WTF the creeps.

This is Girls actress Allison Williams wearing Altuzarra.

How do I hate this? Let me count the ways…. See-through. Peek-a-boo. Dog ugly (sorry, dog owners). It looks like Morticia Adams’ cast-off. There is a lot going on, and none of it good.

A new face on these pages, socialite Lisa Marie Falcone wearing Zaldy.

Lisa grew up dirt poor in Spanish Harlem but at 15, she was spotted in the street by a minion from Wihelmina and became a model. She married husband Philip before he was rich and now he is a billionaire and they live in a $50m mansion off Fifth Avenue  with 27 bedrooms. Lisa Marie probably needs most of them for her wardrobe, including this vomit-coloured dress, a cross between a rocket and a banana, held together with rivets and worn with a black plastic bra. Lisa Marie had a hand in the design and so only has herself to blame. And clock the missing finger on her gloves…

And now we come to a cornucopia of awfulness by Givenchy designer Ricardo Tisci. As Sir Alex would say, the boy has had a shocker…..

When WTF first saw this picture of Madonna, she was inclined to let it go as costume and was severely upbraided by WTF aficionado Jawad Ali as a result.

However WTF learned that Madge had not assembled this outfit from Lourdes’ rummage basket but from Givenchy and changed her mind. Jawad – you were right. It is of course no good railing against the fact that Madonna’s arse is hanging out, because, to be frank, when is it ever in? But the whole combo, worn for some reason with fuschia suede pumps and a wig last seen on Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra is certifiably bonkers.

On we go to serial offender Kim Kardashian.

If you are heavily pregnant you should avoid wearing acres of floral furnishing fabric, both because it makes you look like a runaway sofa and because it gives everyone else a headache. Worse still are the gloves or sleeves ending in gloves or whatever the hell is going on at the end of her arms. What is it with all these gloves? Are they all planning a spot of burglary afterwards? Ricardo tried to defend this outfit but even the dream team of Perry Mason, Professor Alan Dershowitz and Socrates would fail to get an acquittal on this one. Ricardo, you are guilty of crimes against the eyeballs.  The final insult was delivered by Robin Williams who pointed out that he wore something very similar in Mrs Doubtfire and looked much better in it.

Things do not improve. Here is French fashion maven Carine Roitfeld wearing  a Bambi sweatshirt from the Givenchy 2013 Fall collection and a sheer polkadot skirt.

Another imminent minge moment, another Emperor’s New Clothes moment. There is insouciant. And there is looking like an idiot. And there is this…

Finally, making it a triumphant two Met Ball Specials in a row, here is Beyoncé.

It looks like bad Versace but it is bad Givenchy. WIF has no idea why Beyoncé, who is both beautiful and talented, decided to wear a leather boob tube, gloves, the backdrop for an amateur production of Stravinsky’s Firebird and matching boots, but she looks entirely ridiculous. Frankly she would have done better with something out of Lourdes’ rummage basket…..

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. You were a touch quiet during the week but maybe you were off on your holidays. BUT YOU ARE BACK NOW. GET ON WITH THE READING AND THE COMMENTING. Let us meet again next Friday. x

Hallo Readers,

Now don’t panic. This isn’t about football, it is about money and football. Nothing about offside or anything frightening. We’ll get to the frocks in a moment.

Last week, we touched upon the retirement of Sir Alex Ferguson, manager of Manchester United after United clocked up Sir Alex’s 13th Premier League win. They had a big parade through Manchester and it pissed down with rain. Meanwhile, recent medical research has suggested that retirement can damage your health, both mental and physical. And that’s just Sir Alex. Imagine what him being around all the time is going to do to Lady Ferguson…. And now former United megastar David Beckham has hung up his boots aged 38. Except unlike Sir Alex, he will be prancing about in his undies rather than planting peonies…..

Across the City, rivals Manchester City have just sacked their floppy-haired manager, Italian Roberto Mancini. Although he won the FA Cup in year 1 and the Premier League in year 2 and endeared himself to the fans by wearing a blue and white scarf large enough to wrap around the stadium, this year he only managed runner-up in both League and Cup and so it is Arrivederci, do not pass Go and collect your multi-million pound payoff alongside your P45 on your way out. You see, the owners of football clubs these days have changed. In the old days your chairman was a local businessmen who ploughed the profits of his success into the club he loved. If the team did well, the players would be invited over for a fork-in supper (Coronation Chicken and rice salad) or, if they had actually won something, a bash at the local golf club. Not now. Now you have consortia and huge corporations buying in with leveraged funds or you have Russian oligarchs or Sheikhs who have got the yacht, the plane, the fleet of cars and the Caribbean island and fancy playing Subuteo with real footballers. They want success and they want it yesterday and if the manager doesn’t provide it,  he can fuck right off. So Mancini gets the heave-ho and Chelsea stand-in manager Rafa Benitez, who has just secured entry into the Champions League and won the Europa Cup, is not having his contract renewed by Roman Abramovich, the Chairman who looks like the village idiot but happens to be a zillionaire. Instead Jose Mourinho, who won the League for Chelsea several times but got the push and an £18m pay-off is coming back to replace him. Confused?

And there at the bottom of the pile are the fans paying ever increasing prices to watch a load of mercenaries playing in their colours whilst patently not giving a stuff and earning more in a week than many fans will earn in a lifetime. WTF noticed something at the Cup Final as the losers went up to get their medals. A Man City fan rushed forward and gave captain Vincent Kompany his club scarf. The guy had probably paid £50 for his fare and £100 for his ticket and £10 for a Wembley Way Whizzburger and £20 for a couple of beers and £5 for his souvenir programme and he handed over his £30 acrylic piece of shit scarf to his hero, despite the fact that the team had been abysmal. And what happened? Kompany took it, draped it round his neck, went up two steps and then either dropped it or handed it to a minion because by the time he got to the Royal Box, it wasn’t there. That’s football today. Oh and don’t forget to renew your season tickets….the Chairman needs a new Lotus.

 The TV Baftas were also held last weekend. It was a black tie event. But not that sort of black tie, Tina Malone…

 Tina, who specialises in playing ghastly foul-mouthed scrubbers, used to be fat but has now shed 10 stone. Either way she is ghastly and is one of those celebritees who has to tell you everything about herself so we know that she is married to a toyboy 19 years her junior (she is 50), that she is bankrupt but saved up for IVF and -breaking news this, Readers -that she is now pregnant, possibly with twins. These financial constraints have clearly taken their toll on Tina’s ability to scrub up nicely for the big events which might explain the old sweater and  road workers’ jacket but not the stocking-effect tights worn with peep-toe shoes (a major fashion crime) and the demonic smile last spotted on Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

This is Australian dancer Peta Murgatroyd off Dancing with the Stars, arriving at the Maxim Hot 100 party.

 Flabbergasted. That has to be the mot juste. Flabbergasted. I think it is fair to say that those tits started off life in a factory somewhere and became attached to Peta only subsequently. How on earth does she dance without falling over? As for the ensemble,  part Victorian dirty photo part Britney Spears and worn, unaccountably, with wrestling boots, it could very well be one of the worst outfits WTF has ever seen. Like, ever, as Taylor Swift would say….

Next we have Chloe Sevigny wearing Rodarte at the launch of Absolut Elyx.

Chloe is the face of Absolut or should that be the throat? Some are still recovering from the sight of Chloe having unsimulated oral sex with Vincent Gallo in The Brown Bunny, a film generally acknowledged to be one of the worst ever shown in Cannes. That may have been revolting but this outfit is as bad, composed as it appears to be from an old leotard, army boots and half a housecoat. One would be forgiven for thinking that Chloe was waiting to go into hair and makeup rather than having already been in it.

Here is Paz Vega wearing Roberto Cavalli on the Red Carpet at Cannes.

WTF hates Roberto Cavalli with a vengeance because he is vulgar, vulgar, vulgar and although Pax is a beautiful woman, WTF defies anyone to look good in a corselette worn under one of those stretchy plastic trellises you put over duty free bottles to stop them  breaking in transit. It must be said that Paz does not look happy and frankly it is not difficult to see why.

Now we have Eva Longoria wearing Russian designer, Yanina.

 WTF likes a shower curtain as much as the next person, but not when worn as clothes. Even teetering in her high heels, the dress is too long for Eva and is pooling around her sandals and the peekaboo front flattens her breasts flatter than a couple of pancakes. And then there is the little matter of the back….

That zip is ridiculous and although she can barely sew on a button, WTF knows that putting a white zip into sheer dark fabric rather than a dark zip down the side of the dress where it would not be seen is just bonkers, even had it been sewn with a steady hand rather than by a seamstress on the downward incline of the Big Dipper.

And so we come to perennial favourite Nancy dell’Olio. Have a receptacle handy and a damp hand towel to wipe your brow….

Oh. My. Goodness. Me. Here’s the thing about a pussycat bow, made popular by Margaret Thatcher and  inexplicably enjoying a comeback. It is supposed to be worn as part of a blouse, not instead of a blouse. But then Nancy puts the blouse into blowsy. WTF is going to say this one more time. Nancy, PUT THEM AWAY!!!! Exhibitionism is treatable. Get help – now.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep reading. Keep commenting. Spread the word to your nearest and dearest, and we shall meet again next week.

Hallo Readers,

According to Sir Gerald Howarth, the nation is under attack from aggressive homosexuals. Yes, heterosexuals in England now abed are cowering under the covers, fearful that they have only to step outdoors to be menaced by other men planning to subject their person to unimaginable horrors. Of course the word “aggressive” when uttered by the likes of Sir Gerald means uppity.  When a man wants to upset a woman, he describes her as either fat, hysterical or aggressive and the same now seems to go for gay men or women daring to point out that they should be equally entitled to the right to marry. How very dare they? (oh, and whilst on the subject of aggressive women, according to UKIP donor Demetri Marchessini, women wearing trousers is a hostile act against men. Where do they find these people?)

Grass roots Tories are outraged at the prospect of same-sex marriage and believe that Call Me Dave, aided and abetted by his blushing shotgun bride, Nick Clegg (now, there is a unnatural marriage) are bludgeoning traditional Tory values by insisting on legislation to bring this into force. This week Newsnight went out and about in Clacton on Sea (the home of the fabled Essex lion) to speak to the Tory faithful and they were madder than wet hens out in the May storms. Mind you, they were still smarting at their reportedly being called swivel eyed loons by Call Me Dave’s Oxonian pal Lord Feldman, a criticism prompted by their continuous agitation about getting out of Europe and away from the malign influence of Johnny Foreigner. WTF was rather taken by the Shakespearian tone of Lord Feldman’s comment but it went down like a cup of cold sick in the Shires. Nick Clegg then weighed in, telling the Tories to get behind the Coalition (although not, of course in the aggressive homosexual sense). That went down like two cups of cold sick. The likes of Sir Gerald would rather spend an evening dancing cheek to cheek with Sir Ian McKellen than give Nick Clegg the snot up his nose, of which there appears to be a plentiful supply.

Anyway, this bill has also exploded the myth that we live in a United Kingdom. Even if passed on the mainland, same sex marriage will not apply in Northern Ireland so  if you were to have a same sex marriage in England and then move to Northern Ireland, your marriage would not be recognised and would treated as a civil partnership. Perhaps Sir Gerald and his mates can move over there to live happily ever after amongst devout heterosexuals like the appalling Ian Paisley Jnr MP, who appeared on BBC Question Time last night and said that gays and lesbians were equally entitled to get married as long as they married someone of the opposite sex. He and Sir Gerald can have many a happy chat together whilst manning the barricades against the onslaught of gays and lesbians seeking to undermine society as we know it. Or something…

To the world of fashion (very gay - stay away Sir Gerald) and a week where WTF hardly knew where to look first, such was the cornucopia of nastiness on display at the British Soap Awards, the Billboard Music Awards and the Red Carpet at Cannes. There were the usual suspects flashing their bits. Madonna was wearing fishnets with her arse hanging out and Nancy dell’Olio was showing us her side boob and it was all so tedious that WTF decided not to inflict either of them upon you. I mean, what’s new? When Madonna comes out covered from head to toe or Nancy wears a polo neck (like man bites dog) now that will be news.

The British Soap Awards are a veritable vomitfest, a showcase for orange nonentities to parade their plastic tits for the paparazzi. On these occasions, it cannot be said that taste is at a premium. Here for example are Hollyoaks “actresses” Jennifer Metcalfe and Gemma Merna.

Jennifer is doing the I’ve-lost-my-love-and-this-is-what-he-is-missing bit in honour of ice skater Silvain Longchambon whom she met when his celebritee partner on Dancing On Ice. Sylvain then dumped her in favour of his new celebritee skating partner, Samia Ghade off Corrie, with whom he is now doing the double lutz. Jennifer is wearing a white tuxedo, tits and fuck-me shoes and calling it an outfit. Gemma has opted for the more traditional soap-slag outfit of cheap lace and no knickers complete with imminent minge moment. Ghastly. Both of them.

Now to the Billboards, a true triumph of trashiness. Here is Ke$ha wearing a dre$$ with the $eam$ un$ewn by Givenchy.

Like Mark Anthony who proclaimed that he had come to bury Cae$ar not to prai$e him, this i$ a dre$$ de$igned to fla$h her ar$e, not to cover it. Once upon a time you would have been arre$ted for going out dre$$ed like thi$, and at the ri$k of $ounding like Ian Pai$ley Jnr, would that be so bad? What did it become mandatory to fla$h your ar$e? If WTF wants to $ee $omeone el$e’s ar$e, she can pop into the National Gallery thank you very much. She does not wi$h to $ee a picture of Ke$ha’s ar$e over her  breakfast egg. Or at all. Meanwhile Ke$ha has been in trouble this week for drinking her own urine which apparently i$ a bad example for children. In this dre$$ she is certainly taking the pi$$.

We are now off to Cannes where some seriously Z list people popped up on the red carpet. Can any bugger get on there or do you have to be invited because you know, you are actually involved in cinema? What possible reason can there be for Lady Victoria Hervey - actually you could just stop the sentence there.

There is a story of a small child pointing at 18th century politician Charles James Fox and asking his father “what is that man for?” The same is certainly true of Lady Victoria, who is as thick as double dog shit and whose only claim to fame is that she is the daughter of the 6th Marquess of Bristol. Anyway here she is in gold lace like a Spanish Flamenco doll but highly deficient in the skirt department, minge at the ready and legs akimbo as if about to do a pee. She spent so long preening and pouting and pretending to be important that eventually the organisers chucked her off although WTF would have preferred outraged French farmers to have pelted her with rotten oeufs.

Another non person, but you can’t ignore that hair, Russian reality star Elena Lenina.

Don’t you love her? The dress is absolutely hideous and the makeup applied with a trowel in the dark but posing on the Red Carpet with a haystack on your head makes up for it all. Tremendous.

Regular Readers will know that WTF has a great aversion to various designers whose trade mark is vulgarity, amongst them Vaccarello and Versace and here is another, Roberto Cavalli, who has dressed Sharon Stone like a Hong Kong hooker.

Now Sharon is undoubtedly still a very beautiful woman, but does she really need to be flashing everything at us at her age?  I mean we have all seen her vulva in Basic Instinct and, speaking personally, once was enough. (Frankly, WTF was more horrified by the sight of Michael Douglas’ flabby bottom, but I digress). This shiny red monstrosity (the dress, not her vulva) with its plethora of under boob, side boob, cut-outs and masses of rather dry looking and badly-dyed thigh is both trashy and unflattering. Cover up, love. You might like it. I know we would….

Not that age makes flashing OK. Here is model Irina Shayk who also happens to the girlfriend of ace footie star Cristiano Ronaldo  in another Roberto Cavalli horror show.

How Irina manages to get near the mirror with Cristiano about  is a mystery. If Cristiano were made of chocolate he would lick himself to death. Perhaps that explains why Irina went out without realising the full horror of this peekaboo, see-through, oh-for-fuck’s-sake creation.

And now WTF bestows a rare honour upon Paz Vega. Normally the same person does not feature in consecutive weeks but there was no way that Paz could get away with wearing this revolting creation by Stephane Rolland.

For some time now we have been bombarded with illusion panels in dresses (if I see one more Stella McCartney illusion dress, I shall run mad) and even, Heaven forfend, illusion trousers, but this is a new one, an illusion skirt. It’s horrible. Stephane has a great fondness for skirts with feathery or furry bottoms (remember Cheryl Cole last year?)  but here Paz seems to be wearing a titty toga whilst standing in a yeti’s foot. Couture? Really?

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep commenting and reading and checking out regular fashion tweets on @WTF_EEK and we will meet again next Friday.

Hallo Readers,

After last week’s post featuring a variety of minge-baring ghastliness, WTF’s good friend Rebecca Jay (blame her for all this, she was the one who pushed me into writing this blog) posted a comment pointing out that as someone who had been in the feminist movement in the 70′s and 80′s, she found it appalling that “…the number of minge moments, arse and high thigh alarms…is on an inexorable increase. What did we fight for only to return to this sort of image that these women feel they need to portray?” Another good friend of WTF’s, Jan Lewis, said “ I feel very sad when I see young women in what passes for shoes nowadays : it looks to me like a return to foot binding as they hobble along”. As Carrie Bradshaw would say, WTF started thinking about women’s ridiculous enslavement to fashion and their mind-set that vulgarity equals style. Foot binding is a good analogy. For centuries, Chinese women had their feet bound to stop them growing more than 7 cm long. Toes would be bent over and broken with women left unable to walk properly. Chinese men liked women’s feet to be all teeny and weeny and dainty and this mutilation, for that is what it was, persisted until the 1940′s. Watch The Inn of the Sixth Happiness  where Ingrid Bergman was somewhat improbably cast as British missionary Gladys Aylward, out in rural China in the 1930′s and attempting to stop footbinding at the instigation of an even more improbably cast Robert Donat.  Footbinding was the ancient equivalent of attaching plastic tits to your body and filling your face full of fuck knows what to iron out your wrinkles. Not to mention starving yourself for a tiny little body so that  your clothes hang properly and your plastic tits look bigger.

Today women are free to vote, to pursue a career, to do what they want and to wear what they want, thanks to the efforts of Emily Davison, who died  100 years ago this week, the Pankhursts and the others who fought for emancipation, equality and the right to be more than an adornment and a possession, yet idiots like the ones featured in wtffashionshark choose to parade their breasts, thighs and lady areas in public whilst wobbling on vertiginous heels like a pissed dervish. They do it because it is fashion, because they think it will get them in the news and keep them in the news or sell their latest film or their latest record or even because, poor deluded souls, they actually think that it makes them look good. Women have been brainwashed into thinking they want to wear this tawdry shit, bombarded by a conspiracy of designers, magazines, the fashion editors of the newspapers, the stylists and the people who turn your skin orange with lotions and potions. Please stop. WTF would have to find another hobby but women would regain their dignity and their independence of mind – the very thing our predecessors fought for, and in Emily Davison’s case, died for. There is something very dubious about selling yourself  as a Celebritee by flashing the flesh and even more dubious invoking the images of child porn to do so.  Let women succeed because of what they can do not because of what they are nearly wearing….

Some of the women this week have talent in abundance and others have only their orange bits to rely upon. Either way, they look awful. Let us kick off with Jessica Wright off TOWIE with beau Ricky Rayment en route to a cast party in Marbs (that is Marbella to the uninitiated). Ricky is the owner of Bar Blanco, described on its website as “one of Essex’s most premier wine bars” whilst Jessica owns what is probably one of Essex’s “most premier” lingerie shops.

As this was not a fancy dress party there must have been some other reason for Jessica resembling a cross between Princess Sita and a lap-dancer.

Sita, wife of Lord Rama, would not have been flashing her thighs or tottering around with a couple of baskets on her feet and WTF strongly suspects that she had her own hair, tits and teeth. Ricky is no Lord Rama and is a complete knob but you don’t see him hobbling around in silly shoes with his bits on display. Next!

Here is a Kardashian, not Kim but her sister Kourtney Kardashian wearing ASOS at her boyfriend’s birthday at the Bellagio.

In this case, ASOS seems to be an acronym for Absent Sense Or Style with Kourtney dressed in a wholly unflattering bustier with lace overlay and a sort of skirt composed of feathers and showing lots of permatanned limb. She is like some mythical beast from Greek legend, half bimbo, half bird and a total waste of space. Next!

This is what singer Eliza Doolittle wore to the Esquire Summer Party.

Sigh. Next!

Now we are off to Cannes where we come across the lovely and talented Marion Cotillard wearing Alexander McQueen.

Now I hasten to add that Marion doesn’t look slaggy and is positively swathed in fabric. The problem here is that she looks silly. The pattern is reminiscent of a Chinoiserie vase and she looks for all the world like Aladdin. Most disturbing however is that ugly gaping line running from top to crotch  like some couture surgical scar. WTF does not remember the bit where Aladdin is eviscerated. Maybe this is the Quentin Tarantino version. Next!

Now this is just deeply mad. Meet actress Laetitia Casta wearing Christian Dior.

The dress itself is as hideous as can be imagined with its sheer peekaboo panels adorned with little daisies and the compulsory imminent minge moment but Laetitia obviously thought that she needed some further embellishment, leading her to walk the Red Carpet in feathered wings like a golden Icarus. Remember what happened to Icarus, sweetie. He came crashing down to earth, rather like you could have done in those garish gold Louboutins.  The words fashion disaster have insufficient nuance to sum  this one up. Next!

What follows is the worst thing I have ever seen in my life. If you are of a nervous disposition, please log off now and come back next week because you are about to see something which only a practising obstetrician should ever have to see. Also if you are eating, put down your cutlery. This is actress Emmanuelle Seigner not quite wearing Alexandre Vauthier. The homunculus next to her is her husband Roman Polanski who, at 79, is 33 years her senior and looks like Dustin Hoffman’s granddad.

All together now…….AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This post has brought you imminent minge moments and pussy pelmets and groin garlands but this is revolting. WTF is not quite sure what is protruding from the red knickers but whatever it is, it should not be on view. How can this be? What was she thinking?  What was Alexandre Vauthier thinking? This dress is an outrage. WTF has featured Alexandre’s creations before, once on Rita Ora and once on serial offender and bits-flasher Heidi Klum and both outfits were foul but this is just unspeakable. And in case you are thinking that WTF is picking on her unfairly, it is only right to point out that if you choose to wear a dress with your chest on show and red knickers matching your split-crotch skirt, then you have only yourself to blame. Just saying…

In the light of all that, the major tit tape catastrophe is small beer….

After seeing Emmanuelle, WTF needs a beer, and not a small one. That’s your lot for this week, Readers, and you are probably glad of it. Let us meet again next Friday. In the meanwhile, keep those comments coming…

Hallo Readers

On Tuesday, it was revealed that Kate Winslet is expecting her third child. But to read Judith Woods in The Daily Telegraph and Alison Boshoff in The Daily Mail,  you would be forgiven for thinking that Kate was Myra Hindley and Rose West rolled into one. Has she tortured her kiddies with hot irons? Has she held drug-fuelled orgies in the home whilst the little dears slept upstairs? No, Kate’s offence is to have been married three times and to have become pregnant by each of her lawfully wedded husbands.  Pass the smelling salts, vicar..

The Telegraph recently did a cull of its staff on merging with The Sunday Telegraph but sadly for those of us who prefer journalism to be intelligent and well-written, Woods survived the cut to subject her readers to her particular brand of bile-filled bollocks. Written in execrable style, the article took Kate to task for having had a number of “revolving door relationships” and more than one husband. I mean, that must make her a slut, mustn’t it?  Maybe we should just bury her up to her neck and throw stones at her. Alison Boshoff in The Mail was no better. Headlined Why is Kate Winslet’s Love Life Such a Mess? Boshoff concluded, based upon a handful of cuttings and aperçus from “insiders” that Kate’s problem is that “she is a hopeless romantic who loves to be in love and has never outgrown girlish dreams of finding a Mr Absolutely Right”. Who knew that Boshoff had a PhD in psychology? WTF had previously thought that she was just The Mail’s showbiz writer whose job it was to piss all over people in the name of sales.

Neither woman mentioned that Kate was first married at 23 and that her second husband was carrying on with Rebecca Hall which broke up that marriage. Mind you, according to Woods, that was also Kate’s fault because he had previously said that monogamy was an unnatural construct and so she was asking for it.

Happily most readers of both newspapers gave the articles the bird. Even the usual neanderthals who comment in The Mail were outnumbered by those who thought that Boshoff was bitter, nasty and judgmental and that it was none of her business.  Both sets of readers pointed out that Rod Stewart had 8 children by 5 different women but nobody carried on about him having “revolving door relationships.” Twitter also erupted with Zoe Margolis (@girlonetrack) leading the charge and posting a riposte to Woods’ “hateful” article objecting to its misogyny and sexist double standards and she is absolutely right. Neither paper would publish an article like that about a man because in their mind men are put on earth to shag women, but if women shag them back, they’re slags, even if they are actually married to the men they’re shagging.  More to the point, neither paper would ever publish an article like that written by a man because they just wouldn’t dare. What is so insidious is that both Woods and Boshoff have previously written articles about their own marriages (like anybody cares) and so there is a horrible, smug  Kirche, Kinder, Küche aspect to it all – if you don’t have the perfect marriage and the perfect husband (just the one, mind) you’re a slapper.  The demonisation of women by women is distasteful and depressing, not least when they are paid to do it.

Anyway this is, as ever, an equal opportunities wtffashionshark with both men and women getting it in the neck, not for their sexuality or marital status but for the terrible clothes they have conned themselves or been conned into wearing. Let us begin with millionheiress and shoe designer Chloë Green whose father Philip Green owns Topshop and other stuff.

 Chloë looks like a fairy in A Midsummer Night’s Dream but was in fact attending a wedding bedecked in more fake flowers than a Broadstairs B&B, a bird on her shoulder like Long John Silver, a Union Jack clutch and hideous  Louboutins. M. Louboutin said recently that he would be mortified if anyone said his shoes looked comfortable. He is no danger of that but should he not be concerned that this pair are like the hooves on a pantomime horse?

Now for a trio of men looking silly at the CFDA Awards, starting with designer Zang Toi in (hopefully) his own design. I say hopefully because were it otherwise, there would be two idiots involved, one designing it and one wearing it.

WTF has no objection to a man in a skirt but she has strong objection to a man in a white silk miniskirt with matching white tie. WTF is also curious about the tag on Zang’s ankle – is he on bail?

Next we have fashionista and all-round show-off Cameron Silver in a suit designed by his pal Nicole Miller.

WTF is aghast, especially at the shoes and the wonky bow tie. The whole thing gives Cameron the appearance of a walking bathroom floor.

And now the winner of the CFDA Menswear Designer of the Year, Thom Browne in a suit of his own design and looking like a very hairy, overgrown schoolboy.

Those shorts are absurd but WTF is principally concerned by this ghastly trend for too-short, too-tight jackets which bring to mind the late, lamented Norman Wisdom.

Norman was a cult figure in Albania where dictator Enver Hoxha decreed that his character of Mr Pitkin epitomised the struggles of the proletariat against capitalism. But even the Albanians did not revere Norman for his style. WTF has previously deplored brogues worn with bare ankles and this has not persuaded her to change her mind.

The women wore some shocking outfits as well. Here are 2, both from Givenchy. First we have Adriana Lima.

Here is a WTF rule. If  it looks like shit on a supermodel, then it is probably is. Here is another rule. Either wear a proper skirt, or don’t bother.

Next, performance artist Marina Abramovič.

The long gloves, slippers and skirt would have been bad enough but a lace athletic shirt with the words Favelas 74 on it is plain offensive. Here we have Givenchy flogging overpriced tat printed with the name of Brazilian shanty towns where the combined income of a whole  favela over a lifetime would not buy the garment in question. What next? How about the Dharavi slum in Mumbai or the Killing Fields of Cambodia?

And now for something completely different. We go to the Glamour Awards and pillow-cheeked  Amanda Holden.

Amanda is a Judge on Britain’s Got Talent despite having no discernible talent  but the priapic porkfest that is Simon Cowell, purveyor of junk to the Nation, took a shine to her and Amanda now sits in judgement on small children, preferably disabled, singing songs and adults turning backflips, simpering up a storm and clapping ostentatiously. The dress seems to have been assembled at random, complete with tit sling (a splendid observation from WTF afficionado Enid Shelmardine), arm-armour and genitalia curtains only millimetres away from a full-on minge moment. WTF’s best efforts have failed to discover the identity of the designer who is clearly lying low with his/her mobile turned off and the curtains drawn.

Fortunately for Amanda, she was not the worst-dressed this week thanks to  Mollie King from The Saturdays wearing Louis Heal.

This is a check-list for everything WTF hates in a dress – tawdry, sideboob and peekaboo, a patchwork of cheap satin and nude gauze and what appears to be a gold tape measure worn as a belt. And then there is the back, or rather the absence of one.

Good grief.  WTF hopes that Mollie was not trying to impress her ex, square-jawed, muscular male model David Gandy who was also there  with his new girlfriend Samantha Barks. If she was, it was a bad decision. By the way, Samantha was described  in various newspapers as David’s “arm candy” although she is a talented actress and singer with her own very successful career. Sigh.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Excellent comments last week, so them coming, get more random nonsense on @WTF_EEK and we shall meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

As I think I’ve mentioned before, one of WTF’s favourite films is Tin Men, a comedy masterpiece directed by Barry Levinson and starring Richard Dreyfus and Danny de Vito. For reasons far too complicated to go into, at one point Danny thinks Richard has come to burgle his house so he knocks him out, ties him up and humiliates him by pelting him with eggs and tomatoes. For his pains, he is arrested. At the Police Station,  both Danny and the cops are bemused:

 So you hit him with a gun and pelted him with eggs and tomatoes?

Yeah. I’d have thrown soup at him if I had any soup. Is there a law says you can’t throw eggs?

Well, yes actually, there is. It is an assault. But in the world of celebrity, as violist Natalie Holt has demonstrated, throwing eggs is a gateway to fame and fortune. During the Grand Final of Britain’s Got Talent last Saturday (it was won by Hungarians) Natalie, who had been playing in the band accompanying singers Richard and Paul, got up, barged between them to front of stage and then starting throwing eggs at Simon Cowell with a demonic smile on her face like the Joker in Batman.  

Since then, Natalie has been NEWS, appearing on every media outlet. Almost immediately, old pictures appeared of her in her bikini and everyone seemed to know that she had been an unsuccessful BGT contestant in 2012 as part of the Raven Quartet. At first she was apologetic, saying that it was “a silly thing to do”. But on Monday she wrote a piece in The Guardian maintaining that she was not interested in fame and that “I took a stand against people miming on TV and against Simon Cowell and his dreadful influence on the music industry”.  On Tuesday Natalie told us that the eggs had been organic and that she had smuggled them in her tights. On Wednesday, Natalie toured the media outlets insisting that she was not a nutter. Thursday confirmed WTF’s suspicions as she read that Holt’s boyfriend, one Chris Waitt, is planning on making a movie about Natalie’s heroic act and wants Simon Cowell to play himself.

WTF is firmly of the view that the whole thing is bollocks. First, although she has never found it necessary to do it herself, preferring to eat them cooked rather than conceal them raw, WTF suspects that it is tricky to hide eggs, whether they be organic or not, in your tights. Second, if Natalie is not interested in fame why did she enter BGT last year (Pudsey the Dancing Dog won it) and why is she giving all these interviews now? Third, if she did not want to mime, why did she take the job? And fourth, why waste organic eggs on Simon Cowell?

But whether it was a put up job or not, celebrity status will follow as sure as night follows day. It is clearly only a matter of time before Natalie puts on a little spangly frock and enters Masterchef Big Brother Celebrity Come Dancing On Ice. The sad thing here is that unlike the usual parade of neon-orange celebrities who have gained fame through staged reality TV or shagging someone famous (and preferably married) Natalie actually does have talent. She is a trained classical musician. But it seems that her talent for self-publicity is more important to her. As a result she and the appalling, cynical Cowell, who has made zillions purveying shite to the Nation, are made for each other.

Talking of talent, we turn to other celebrities, some talented, some not so talented, and the sartorial disasters of the week. First we meet  Kaley Cuoco off The Big Bang Theory wearing Paule Ka at the Critics Choice TV Awards.

Oh very dear. Kaley is 27 not 7 and she has tits so this dress is a dreadful choice on every level. The bodice has a blingy panel and a pleated tit-ruff which means she goes out at the sides as well as at the front like a sack of potatoes tied with a satin bow. Here is a WTF Rule – always beware pleated tits. As for the shoes worn over patchily-dyed bare feet,  they are about 2 sizes too big, a sure sign that they have been borrowed for the night, like  Cinderella.

Yes, Miley Cyrus is back but her jeans by Ashish and leather bralet by Alexander Wang simply cannot be ignored. Take a look…

Frankly those jeans, half denim, half something else, are more hashish than Ashish and they are the worst jeans that WTF ever did see in her life and make Miley look like a midget. Any self-respecting builder would not dream of flashing his butt-cleavage in those jeans. What WTF hates about them, as well as everything else about them, is that the denim half rolls up but the other half doesn’t. Miley, as ever, compounds the offence with the leather bralet (WTF loathes a bralet of any description and a leather one above all), a PVC jacket and a lot of admittedly very flat midriff. The whole thing is desperately over-styled and looks ridiculous.

And then is Dita Von Teese wearing Maria Lucia Hohan.

Now Dita has a splendid pair of breasts and makes an exceptionally good living out of them, which makes it all the more surprising that she is wearing this outfit composed of a breastplate and a skirt pooling around her. The illusion is that someone else’s tits are stuck onto her front, and not very good tits at that. We have all become used to women trying to improve their décolletage – this may be the first WTF example of someone setting out to make theirs worse.

This is uber-Z-lister Lizzie Cundy on her hotel balcony in Cap Ferrat shortly before the understated Tamara Ecclestone nuptials. I am sure she had absolutely no idea that there was a photographer lurking underneath like some paparazzo Romeo.

I mean, a red minge-skimming condom with masses of underboob is exactly what you wear when you want to catch the Mediterranean sun, is it not?  You would certainly get an interesting tan, unless of course you were already the colour of a satsuma thanks to whatever tanning lotion you have delivered by tanker… WTF has written about Lizzie before. How does Lizzie do it? No actual talent, no longer in the first flush of youth (she admits to 44) and re-formed by surgeons from head to toe, she turns up at every première and party and is apparently Tamara’s BFF, hence the 4-day freebie in Cap Ferrat. Her next move is to star in a musical about WAGS which opens in London in July. WTF would go, but she will be busy washing her hair.

To the Tony Awards in New York where we see deep weirdness in major stars. First up, Cyndi Lauper.

Now it is a given that Cyndi is quirky. WTF is happy with quirky. But those trousers are not quirky, they are completely bonkers.

As ever we have saved the best for last in the formidable shape of Cicely Tyson, 79 wearing a remarkable creation by B.Michael, a designer of whom WTF was previously blissfully unaware.

On the plus side, the dress is certainly striking and it is adventurous for anyone of any age, let alone someone about to become an octogenarian. On the minus side, she looks like a cross between Barney the Dinosaur, Ursula from The Little Mermaid  and a Quality Street wrapper.

OK  Readers, that’s your lot for this week. WTF is off on holiday so your post next Friday will be a selection of the worst outfits of 2013 and you can choose your own winner in the WTF Summer Stinker Poll.  Normal service will be resumed on Friday 28th June. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

We will get to the winner of the WTF Summer Stinker Poll at the end of this post. But first, the rant and then the sartorial disasters of the week….

This week Australia’s first woman Prime Minister Julia Gillard bit the dust, politically speaking, to be replaced by Kevin Rudd, the man she herself ousted 3 years ago. She knifed him and now he’s knifed her back. Julia was far from perfect. Her policies flip-flopped and her terrible accent sounded like nails down a blackboard. But the economy is doing OK (George and Call-Me-Dave would flog their grannies for such success), unemployment is low and there have been undoubted social successes. The problem for Julia was sadly insuperable. She didn’t have a husband. She didn’t have a child. And she didn’t have a dick. Game over.

Even before she became PM, Julia had to put up with abject chauvinist abuse from her political opponents, routinely called a “witch” and a “bitch”, attacked for being “deliberately barren” and for living with her partner (aka the First Bloke). A Liberal Party fundraising dinner earlier this year had “Julia Gillard Kentucky Fried Quail” on the menu - ”small breasts, huge thighs and a big red box”. Imagine a joke about Rudd based on his member… It would never happen. And then of course there was the shock-jock who suggested to her that the First Bloke must be gay because he used to be a hairdresser.  Oh my aching sides….

This month, scientists gathered in London to discuss why the Neanderthals died out 12,000 years ago. The answer is that they did not die out at all, they just migrated to Canberra. The Leader of the Opposition, the vile Tony Abbott, once said that “it would be folly to expect that women will ever dominate or even approach equal representation in a large number of areas simply because their aptitudes, abilities and interests are different for physiological reasons”. Tony does not have much time for women, having  once started a speech with “what the housewives of Australia need to understand as they do their ironing is that…”. So it would not have mattered if Julia had reduced inflation to 0% and won the Nobel Peace Prize – she had a womb and she hadn’t even made proper use of it…

However, just as Rick and Ilsa in Casablanca will always have Paris, we will always have Julia’s speech in which she castigated the smirking Abbott for his misogyny. Click on the link and enjoy…….. Not that the sanctimonious Rudd is any better than Abbott. They both insist on shoving their Christian  family life down the Nation’s throat although both seem to have ignored the bit in the Bible about not behaving like a prick. Never was there such a temptation to write FUCK YOU ALL on the ballot paper. As Dr Johnson once remarked, “Sir, there is no settling the point of precedency between a flea and a louse”.

To the week’s fashion disasters, starting with Girls’ actress Zosia Mamet at the première of The Heat.

Now WTF suspects you are asking yourself “what happened to her skirt?”  and for that matter “what happened to her makeup and hairbrush?” Both are good questions. It would appear that Zosia fell asleep on the sofa in her tee-shirt and then had to rush out to the limo, pausing only to slip on her shoes. Which, by the way, are foul as are the foot tattoos.

WTF loathes tattoos but hates a foot tattoo above all things. The whole look is skanky, manky and ugly. In other words, WTF is not a fan. Note to Zosia.  Go shopping. 

And now to one of WTF’s favourite Z-listers, Brandi Glanville, taking up  oxygen which could be used for more valuable purposes.

Those hideous sandals are wound about her stick-like little limbs like poison ivy round a couple of maypoles. One can only marvel that Morris Men are not dancing around her. Meanwhile, not content with feuding with no-mark ex-husband Eddie Cibrian and his second wife LeAnn Rimes, Brandi has now got the hump with talk show host John Kerwin, whom she once dated for about 5 minutes. John complained that Brandi hadn’t told him that she carried the HPV virus and that although they had got “frisky”, he had turned her down. Brandi waxed indignant at this lack of gallantry although it must be said that John only learned about the HPV (she claimed to have caught it from Eddie) on reading her recently published memoirs. WTF had previously thought that HPV was some sort of heavy goods vehicle and is now struggling to understand the various moral imperatives and questions of etiquette involved here….

Yes, Miley Cyrus is back, but honestly…..just look at this.

US citizens eating their breakfast and watching Good Morning America were exposed to Miley wearing a nappy, sparkling crop top and thigh-high Louboutins like a cross between a lamb’s arse and a Tribeca tart. The National infarction rate trebled there and then. Frankly WTF has grown tired of Miley’s silly outfits. We get it, love. Your engagement is off and your parents are getting a divorce. You’re upset. Just go away.

And now for a new feature The Minge Moment of the Week brought to you in the shape of Rita Ora wearing Natalia Kaut.

It’s peekaboo. It’s leather. It’s got pointy, moulded tits like the Valkyrie. It’s got a yoni-shaped  thing in front of her lady areas. It’s ghastly. 

More designer nonsense, this time the excellent Maggie Gyllenhaal wearing Christian Dior.

Some things are just inexplicable. The Bermuda Triangle. The continuing employment of Sir Bruce Forsyth. The Kardashians. The fact that one of the World’s Leading Fashion Houses has designed a giant tea cosy with a built-in muff-ruff. And the fact that Maggie agreed to wear it.

Readers of a nervous disposition should now avert their eyes as something very nasty is about to confront you. Here is Mickey Rourke emerging from his posh hotel in London. The doorman’s expression says it all.

Fucking hell. I mean, what other response can there be? Mickey merits inclusion just for the hat which resembles an old sock but also for the fact that his sunglasses are worn OVER the hat and not under it. Admittedly Mickey has had an awful lot of plastic surgery but has he done a Van Gogh and cut off his ears? Neck to waist is acceptable but then we get to the  paisley trousers with dark patches which make him appear to have pissed himself – although to look on the bright side, maybe it was with laughter on seeing himself in a mirror. That is, if he has a mirror. Which, by the look of it, he does not. If you saw Mickey sleeping in a doorway in a cardboard box, you would feel sorry for the box.

And now….drum-roll…….THE WINNER OF THE WTF SUMMER STINKER POLL IS….

NADINE MERABI!!!!!!

WTF would have put her house deeds on Emanuelle Seigner but fortunately she did not as Nadine romped home with 21% of the vote beating Erica Mena into 2nd place. Clearly Readers felt that the combination of Nadine’s minge and that shocking seam over rounded thighs  was just not on.  And they have a point.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Let us meet again next Friday and in the meantime, keep those excellent comments coming and be good. x

Hallo Readers,

By the time you come back next week (she says presumptuously) two things might well have happened. First the boy Andy Murray could have confirmed his status as British rather than Scottish by winning Wimbledon, making him the first home-grown winner since dinosaurs walked the Earth; and second, HRH Royal Foetus might have made his or her appearance. Yes, Andy and HRH Foetus are all set to put the Great back into Great Britain. WTF is telling you this now so that you can rush out and stock up on nausea tablets and sick bags (you cannot be too careful) in order to withstand the tidal wave of jingoistic guff heading straight at you. Here’s the thing. This country is knee deep in the shit. The economy is horrible, people are depressed and we are being governed by knobheads.  The papers need to focus on something that has no relevance whatsoever to the lives of  ordinary citizens but will distract them from the glugging sound of the country going down the toilet. So what better than a tennis player and a Royal Infant?

Of course, as far as Andy is concerned, we have been there before. Last year to be exact, when cheered on by a bevy of celebrities on a freebie and Sir Cliff Richard clad in a Union Flag jacket, Andy lost to Roger Federer. The nation’s disappointment weighed upon his shoulders like Atlas bearing up the globe. This year there was almost a collective coronary as Andy got the run around in the Quarter Final from some drop-dead-handsome Spaniard and lost the first 2 sets before winning the next 3, scowling, swearing and being entirely obnoxious. This was followed by a live interview so cringe-making that it took WTF a full ten minutes to emerge from behind the sofa where she had been forced to hide in embarrassment. Idiot sports journalist Garry Richardson later apologised to Andy and quite right too. The BBC’s descent into facetious inanity is distressing but that discussion is for another day. Meanwhile, like last year, we have been treated to the recollections of the bloke who used to sell Andy sweets and the woman who watched him bashing a ball against the barn door aged 3 and every other bugger he’s ever met ever since the day he was born. It is quite possible that WTF will die of boredom before he ever steps back on a court.

As for HRH Foetus, the due date is said to be 13 July and the papers have been bursting with sycophancy and speculation. Someone claimed to know what  baby will look like (presumably pink and bald – it’s a baby). Thursday’s Daily Telegraph  informed us that the bookies have decided that Alexandra was the likeliest name (but only, one supposes, if it is a girl). The Finnish Government sent over a cardboard box full of goodies as given to every new mother in Finland (you use the box as a cot as it comes with a mattress and they also give you a condom, which might perhaps be shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted). Gifts are pouring in from far and wide, solid gold potties and silver geegaws and a special one from UK taxpayers who forked out £1m for refurbishment of the modest 57-room Apartment 1 at Kensington Palace where they will make their home.  WTF was further indignant to learn that 4 parking meters in front of the Maternity Wing were cancelled last week for the duration in case a flotilla of royal arse-lickers need to park there when Kate is rushed in for the birth, presided over by Alan Farthing the man in charge of all Royal Ladyparts. Presumably the ratepayers of Westminster City Council will be compensated for the loss of income exacted from harassed fathers-to-be who will now probably miss the birth of their children as they trawl hopelessly around Paddington  in search of a parking spot.

And this is just the warm up – imagine what it will be like after Andy wins and HRH Foetus is actually born? Hand me some of those nausea tablets…..

To this week’s fashion disasters, and believe me, they are bad. Let us start with bimbo-supreme Helen Flanagan dressed as Little Bo Peep.

All she needs is a shepherd’s crook and a doggie.

That said, Little Bo Peep did not totter around in ugly Louboutins with legs the colour of creosote and carrying a packet of Marlboro Lights. And, as far as WTF can recall, Little Bo Peep did not flash a cleavage like two bald men under a yellow lace comforter. This is a bad case of paedo-porn dressing.

We come to the Minge Moment of the Week, in this case barely covered and belonging to former prostitute and current lingerie designer Zahia Dehar.

Zahia was only 16 when she provided her services to Franck Ribery, possibly the ugliest player in World Football (he says he did not know how old she was). Other members, as it were, of the French National Team may also have spent time with Zahia. In an interesting route to rehabilitation, Zahia started her own range of saucy lingerie and has just opened a boutique whose launch she attended wearing not much, her bits covered by confetti like a nude wedding guest. It may be naïve to complain that a retired tart is flashing her all but it is still shocking. Jesus said that prostitutes could enter into the Kingdom of God but this one is obviously going there via the bank.

Still in Paris, we call in on Fashion Week Haute-Couture to meet a very embarrassed Jennifer Lawrence wearing some terrible trousers from the Christian Dior S/S 2014 collection.

This is the downside of being the Face of a Fashion House. You might get to wear couture clothes but you also have to put on these preposterous trousers/culottes/whatever with its tiny co-ordinating  lacy cushion cover. Women’s trousers have gone strange. They are either see-through (see below) or they billow like the sails in the Sydney to Hobart yacht race. Jennifer is clearly considering throwing herself over that parapet and who could blame her? Any Parisian Coroner worth his sel would take 20 seconds to conclude that the poor girl had been driven to it.

And it gets worse. Here is Kristen Stewart wearing Zuhair Murad.

WTF is not a fan of Kristen whose farouche expression and general air of a sulky teenaged boy has long been getting on her wick. As for the ensemble, WTF is not having it. This is a swimsuit with lacy leggings. It might pass muster in Mustique but not on the streets of Paris. Kristen has made a habit of wearing lacy onesies  -she should break it. Now. And buy a hairbrush.

To the BET Awards and two awesome fashion monstrosities, beginning with actress  Porscha Coleman.

WTF  just can’t bear it. Really she can’t. Tawdry, titsy and tarty, peekaboo AND visible nipple activity, worn with fuck-me sandals. Vile.

Finally, a most ridiculous sight from the BET Pre-Show, namely Angela Simmons and rapper French Montana né Karim Kharbouch.

French seems to be sporting a couple of Olympic gold medals and has wrapped (see what I did there?) a pair of serviettes around his ankles. Equally bemusing is the white pointy thing on his hoodie.  WTF is not one to criticise but he looks like a twat.  As for Angela, her dress is insane. It seems to have both a minge guard and a pair of tit guards, seemingly inspired by the collar you put on a pet to stop it scratching and the headlights on an old Lightburn Zeta car, voted one of the 50 Ugliest Cars of all time. 

Who knows why Angela chose to wear this. Perhaps she was trying to fend off French. But it is without doubt one of the very worst dresses that WTF ever did see.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. We will meet again next Friday. Keep the comments coming and be good x

Hallo Readers,

Last weekend WTF turned into Charles Bronson and started trolling the trolls.  Like a number of similarly appalled citizens, male and female, she was enraged by the vicious nastiness of the Twitter troll  attacks on Marion Bartoli who (in what turned out to be a very one-sided match) beat Sabine Lisicki in the Wimbledon Ladies Final. The troll view was not just that Marion was fat (she isn’t but so what if she were) and ugly (ditto) but that these attributes meant that she didn’t deserve to win. WTF had previously no idea that pulchritude was a pre-condition for winning a tennis match and had naïvely assumed that all you had to do was to get more sets than your opponent. However, according to a legion of pustular young men with a minimal IQ and a dodgy grasp of spelling, WTF had got that one wrong. Marion must be mortified that  some little twat with 2 GCSE’s and a Gareth Bale poster will not be giving her one on his single bed in the  malodorous back bedroom of mum and dad’s house but she is made of stern stuff and will get over it. Not that these type of comments all came from males. Girls and women also opined that Marion did not deserve to win because of how she looked, which was even more depressing. 

Far worse though were the tweets revealing hatred and contempt for women like “she wouldn’t even get raped let alone fucked” and the frequent use of the words “whore” and  ”c**t”. Not to mention the charmer from Scotland who wanted to “smash the wee fat cow” because she was irritating him. Which is why, instead of enjoying a sunny afternoon in the garden, WTF, in common with many others, spent hours trying to get the trolls to see the error of their ways.  (There was also some correspondence with non-trolls who stuck up for their troll friends, but WTF can’t be bothered to go into all that here). We would have had more chance of taking a game off Ms Bartoli (who did not drop a set throughout the tournament) than reasoning with the trolls. In some cases, and as far as WTF can see without any sense of irony, they complained that we, the troll-trolls, were picking on them. So in their thought processes, it is OK for them to say that they want to smash Marion or that she doesn’t even look good enough to merit being raped but it is wrong for us to take them to task for it. The moron by the name of Jay who chose to share his views on rape in a public forum refused to back down and kept insisting that it was a joke. At which point, WTF lost it and replied “You don’t get it do you, fuckwit? Rape isn’t funny.”  

And of course he didn’t get it and he doesn’t get it and he won’t get it because no one, not his parents, not his friends,  not his teachers, not the troll-trolls have managed to make him see that women are not put on earth for the sole purpose of giving him something nice to look at and that a woman who is very good at what she does can be good at it even if she does not look like Sabine Lisicki (who is also very good at what she does) and that, with an IQ of 175, Marion shits something more intelligent than Jay and all the other Jays of this world,  ignorant fools tapping on their smartphones and thinking that they are funny and clever and superior to mere women, even the ones who look like Sabine Lisicki. There is now, more than ever, an institutionalised chauvinism and disrespect against women. 

And what an example John Inverdale set for them. When the National Broadcaster employs someone who talks about the new Wimbledon Ladies Champion as “not a looker” how is this  situation ever going to get any better? It is time for John to get his P45…. The trouble is that with the BBC’s insane compensation culture, he’ll make a mint out of it. And then end up on Talksport.

To happier matters. The dream came true and Andy Murray triumphed with Call Me Dave and Co clambering on the bandwagon and dropping his name at every opportunity. Meanwhile, it is said that history repeats itself once as tragedy and twice as farce and here is Sir Cliff Richard  on Wimbledon Men’s Finals Day proving the truth of that adage.

On Men’s Final’s Day 2012, Sir Cliff pitched up in the Royal Box wearing this vile Union Jack jacket whereupon the Nation rose up as one and gave it the nostril. Undeterred, Sir Cliff not only hung onto it but turned up wearing it again this year. And compounded the offence with his little silver shoes like the Tin Man going tap dancing.

For our minge moment of the week, we find ourselves at Ibiza airport and Tulisa arriving for her umpteenth holiday of the year.

Leggings should not be a substitute for trousers. Leggings show your camel-toe. Camel-toes should not be paraded through airports, particularly when teamed with a crop-top, Louboutins and a tan more orange than a tangelo.  Air travel is already stressful enough. You queue for hours to check in your luggage, then you queue for hours to go through the scanner thing where sadists in uniform make you strip down to your scanties and then you queue to get onto the plane, only to be crammed into a seat the size of a shoebox and force-fed overpriced, E-Number-packed  snackettes at £5 a throw-up. If the public wants to see some camel-toe, they can go to the Zoo or Sharm-el-Sheikh.

We have not featured über-fashionista Daphne Guinness here for a while. Here she is at the Private View of Ronnie Wood’s  paintings this week in London. Ronnie, like the Great Gatsby, was not present.

Bonkers. I think that is the mot juste. Bonkers. The leather bra/gun holster is deeply weird and makes one fearful that Daphne is planning some vigilante action of her own. Not that she will get very far tottering on those heels…. 

Now this is just silly, but then TOWIE’s Joey Essex is silly.

Joey looks as if he is auditioning for the remake of Half a Sixpence, a shockingly bad musical starring cheeky chappy Tommy Steele and based, improbably, on HG Wells’ Mr Kipps. If it ever pops up on TV, turn over. The garish checks and bow-tie combo are bad enough, Heaven knows,  but the rolled up trousers over hobnob boots and the coiffed hair are truly ridiculous.

WTF omits no opportunity to have a go at Julien Macdonald and this is why. Look what he has done to lovely Hayley Atwell.

WTF hates peekaboo (especially peekaboo tits), see-through and visible panties (although at least Hayley is wearing some, albeit black ones) and here they are all in the one dress (which also seems a tad small for her). Sadly the whole thing just gives the impression that she is covered in bluebottles.

Honestly, WTF has tried to avoid subjecting Readers to more of teenager Courtney Stodden,18, and husband Doug Hutchison, 53, but when you see the next photograph, you will understand…..

Courtney has recently had her tits enlarged to DDs to make her “feel more of a woman”. Doug will definitely be feeling more of Courtney. The combination of the gigantic globes perched on a tiny frame and her penchant for hideous platform footwear renders the fact that she can walk at all a miracle of modern engineering.  The disturbing thing is that Doug seems to have created his own perambulating blow-up sex doll and has happily paraded her in a series of ever-tinier “outfits” until we have reached the point when she isn’t wearing anything much at all. Both Doug and Courtney purport to be God-fearing Christians but two facts remain irrefutable. Doug looks seedy as fuck. And his wife  is wearing a doily. In public. There is probably more fabric in the hat..

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep posting your comments and we will meet again next week. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

The nice thing about being British is that you can always complain about the weather. Over the past few years, we have been banging on about the cold, wet summers as we turned into a Troglodyte Nation deprived of sunshine and joie de vivre. The Queen’s Jubilee River Pageant gave Noah a run for his money. Sporting fixtures bit the dust, BBQs and garden parties bit the dust, tempers bit the dust and everyone was just profoundly miserable. Then, without warning, July 2013 got tropical and now we are all moaning about that. A simple stroll down the road to pick up a paper and you look like Ryan Lochte, dripping wet with your hair stuck to your head and your face as shiny as a new penny. The trains promptly go on the blink because the rails go all funny and the tarmac melts on the motorways with punters stuck in a 30 mile traffic jam, weak with dehydration and playing spontaneous games of football with other stranded motorists like Christmas Day in the trenches in 1914. As for London Underground, unlike livestock there are no rules about the maximum temperature for transporting people and passengers cook slowly like kleftiko.  The only good thing about this weather is that all the reporters and camera crews waiting for HRH Foetus and blocking up the streets outside the Lindo Wing will probably get sunstroke.

Meanwhile, the number of ghastly sights on public thoroughfares is positively traumatising. When did people stop wearing clothes? No wonder the NHS is in the shit;  A&E departments must be run off their feet just coping with the PTSD patients recovering from seeing bare-chested men in manky shorts and mankier trainers or women stripping down to their bra and thongs in the park or bouncing about displaying more flesh than a pole-dancers’ party. There again, maybe WTF is just getting on a bit. Raging on about people’s (lack of) clothing is what your dad used to do (well, WTF’s dad certainly did amongst everything else he raged about, which was most things really).  WTF will have to add clothes-rage to the indicia of how to tell you are turning into your dad, along with her fully patented 3-stage music test, which goes as follows:

1. You start by saying “there’s no tune”;

2. You progress onto “I can’t hear the words”;

3. And finally you utter the immortal words “it’s too loud”.

And then you know you’re fucked. Even if you are actually right about all of the above.

Let us turn to this week’s revolting fashion disasters. WTF has been aghast at the number of celebs who have seen fit to dispense with standard items of clothing like trousers or a skirt, like Rihanna going shopping in Monaco.

It’s a peekaboo leotard.  It would not even be acceptable on Beth Tweddle prancing about on the Uneven Bars but at least Beth would not be out and about buying whatever it is that Rihanna was out and about buying. Where is the rest of the outfit?

WTF owes her Readers an apology.  A few weeks ago, she said that these Ashish  jeans (on Miley Cyrus) were the worst jeans that she had ever seen.

But she was wrong. THESE  Ashish jeans, worn by WTF regular Rita Ora, are the worst jeans she has ever seen.

They’re vile. End of.  And Rita is another one who spent the whole of last week in a bikini top and called it getting dressed. Plus there is something very phallic about that microphone. Just saying….

And now we have a newcomer to these pages. Say hallo to Liam Gallagher.

This outfit does not scream rock star. It screams “prat”.  Liam is alleged to have had some domestic difficulties of late, but that is no excuse for wearing this terrible animal-print top.  And those shoes are like something your dad wears at weekends to give his corns a rest. WTF is also forced to mention that Liam’s open mouth suggests that there is a village somewhere missing an idiot.

Ah! Sharon Stone. Again.

Now the good news is that Sharon is covered up, which is quite unusual for her, as there is usually something hanging out somewhere. Also she is not parading about showing her bra. The bad news is that she isn’t wearing a bra to parade, exposing Parisians to her very perky-looking nipples under a puce top worn with green embroidered silk trewsies and brown leather flip-flops. Just plain nasty. Sharon is advised to pop down to Galeries Lafayette and buy herself a soutien-gorge at the earliest opportunity. 

This is LA Lakers Star Nick Young at the ESPYs Sports Awards.

WTF has never seen the point of basketball which is essentially netball for tall people. As for Nick, he is wearing a shorts suit. Thom Browne has a lot to answer for. And not just a shorts suit but a  BOTTLE GREEN shorts suit. Worn with a Versace-looking trashy tee-shirt, a gold chain like a piece of rope and GOLD STUDDED loafers. OMG. WTF is going to have to lie down a moment and recover her composure.

Welcome back Catherine Zeta Jones who is wearing Michael Kors at the premiere of Red 2. 

 CZJ is good looking by any standards but this attire is doing her absolutely no favours. What is occurring around the neck department?  This woman is being strangled by her own dress. Is it called The Charles Saatchi? You could wear it out to dinner with Britain’s favourite uxorious millionaire and he could get on with his chain-smoking whilst you slowly choked in your haute couture. Not that it is very haute. The slit is too high and the centre panel looks like iron filings on a magnet. Love the lippie, though, and the sandals.

Next we have Juliette Binoche and Jeremy Irons at a party for Bulgari in St Tropez.

How’s this for a smooth segue? In 1992, these two starred in Damage, a movie based on a novel by Josephine Hart,  who was married to Charles’ brother Maurice until her death in 2011. Unlike The Daily Mail, which always expresses surprise that people (especially women) do not look the same as they did two decades ago, WTF is not interested in remarking upon their faces but upon their clothes. Juliette’s onesie makes her look like a sack of potatoes and there is a lot of surplusage around the crotch area. As for Jeremy, the combo of tunic, combat trousers and boots makes him look like a member of some South American death squad.

And now for one of WTF’s favourite Z listers, German strumpet Micaela Schaefer, a woman who almost makes Courtney Stodden look classy.

Micaela’s twitter profile describes  her as “a sexy German showgirl who loves to enjoy the life”.  What sort of life is unspecified. Meanwhile, WTF is only glad that Micaela was nowhere in the vicinity of Liam Gallagher when she put on this revolting excuse for clothes. There is nothing to be said in favour of whatever the hell she is nearly wearing or her preposterous décolletage and artfully-arranged nip-slip. However, being battle-hardened where fake titties are concerned, WTF’s main gripe is the combo of leopard-skin and sparkly silver peep-toe sandals. And so we end where we began, with another silly, fame-hungry woman wearing not much to get her picture taken. Sigh….

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Get busy with the comments (you’ve been a tad reticent of late) and we shall meet again next Friday. Be good. x

Hallo Readers,

This is the time of the year when you are worried about achieving the perfect beach body (unless you are reading this in the Southern half of Australia, in which case Welcome and sorry about the Ashes).  WTF has therefore come up with something to help shed those unwanted kilos called the WTF Royal Baby Diet©. Just sit in the front of your TV or computer and find some coverage of the Royal Baby. Have a large receptacle handy and a packet of wet wipes.  Then get watching. Start with a double dose of Sky News Presenter Kay Burley running up and down outside the Lindo Wing screaming “It’s a Boy!”, harassing baffled tourists fresh from Paddington Station like the eponymous Bear and generally behaving like someone on day release from Broadmoor. Or try some footage of the Bucklebury villagers wittering on about their pride in bringing up HRH Baby because Kate and HRH Baby will spend a few months living quietly in the Middleton family home although from the way they are carrying on you would think that the vicar has organised a rota of wet nurses amongst the local womenfolk. For those wanting instant results, WTF suggests a dose of some old git purporting to be a Town Crier who kept ringing his bell and shouting “oh yay, oh yay”. After the third sighting, WTF experienced a strong desire to stick that bell where the sun don’t shine. The emetic qualities of all or any of the above will guarantee that you will be throwing up till dawn.

The thing about the Royal Birth is that like the Greek tragedies and Racine and Corneille,  all the real action happens offstage. The Royal Wedding gave you the pageantry and the Abbey and the ridiculous outfits (think Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie) and of course the Bride wearing Alexander McQueen and her bridesmaid’s ivory-clad arse. But there are no cameras in the Delivery Room focussed on the point of exit, no record of William shouting “Look, look, you can see the head” and all that malarkey. Which means that there are hours of waiting about with no timetable which means that there are hours of presenters, “pundits” and public talking bollocks about nothing because there is nothing to talk about. Special minus points for Paul Harrison, Sky News’ Royal Correspondent, who allegedly had it on good authority that HRH Baby would be a girl called Margaret and repeated this assertion at every opportunity until the very moment when the news broke that, er, it was a boy.

Which brings us to the announcement itself. 150 years ago, displaying  a notice announcing the birth of an heir to the heir to the heir of the Throne made sense, there being no other method of immediate communication.

Now with Kay bloody Burley and Paul “Its-a-girl-called-Margaret” Harrison beamed straight into your living room, laptop or mobile, it is bonkers (not to mention very un-Green) to produce a piece of A4 announcing something that everybody already knows, put it in the back of a limousine (probably with its seatbelt on) and drive it 2.1 miles across London, there to mount it on a tacky-looking gilded easel by the railings and let saddoes take photos of it. In the dark. And then there were the other saddoes queuing all night to make sure they have their 3 seconds in front of the Royal Easel in the morning…… These people should really get out more..

Oh, and HRH Baby is called George. Who knew?

Let us start the week’s sartorial horror show with actress and WTF regular Chelsee Healey wearing a most revolting ensemble.

It is just terrible. It doesn’t fit on the bust and it is too tight on the stomach and there is more camel toe than a convention of dromedaries. There must have been something, anything, better than this in the shops. As for the sandals and bag…..

Now we meet actress Bai Ling in an outfit which WTF cannot understand, try as she may.

These are bloomers. Victorian bloomers. Gosh they’re awful. And there is far too much tit. WTF also deplores the foot tattoo as she hates any foot tattoo and especially this one.

Let us welcome newcomer Evangeline Lilly off Lost and star of the new movie The Hobbit – the Desolation of Smaug. Whatever the hell that means….

In a previous post, WTF admitted that she could not bear The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings. Truth to tell, she would rather dip her head in a bucket of shit than watch a movie based on either but she likes Evangeline who has now taken to writing children’s books herself. That said this blue strapless onesie is just awful, particularly the little gathered trousers and stupid buttons. It looks as if it is made of terry-towelling. You see, this is exactly what gets WTF all hot and bothered. Beautiful woman. Shops full of lovely clothes. And she wears this?

We move onto Cate Blanchett wearing Balenciaga.

WTF is bemused and then she is bemused some more. The colour is pretty and the couture expertise is evident, but it is just so weird that even someone with the regal authority of the wonderful Cate cannot get away with it. The fact is that it looks like a giant vagina decorated with fairy lights, a sort of mind-fuck vajazzle.

At the same event was Solange Knowles wearing Prada.

Or, as WTF likes to call her, Solangé. Why should Beyoncé be Beyoncé but Solange not be Solangé? Why should one sister have the acute but not the other? I mean, it could lead to extreme psychological damage. Anyway, be that howsoever it may be, Solangé looks extremely silly. This creased skirt and top combo seems to have been put together from those ghastly embroidered tea towels you buy on holiday under the delusion that they will look cute in your kitchen in Clapham. And the back is even worse….

Origami tea towels are a new one to WTF, and on the evidence here,  they will never catch on.

Finally, we have rapper Azaelia Banks. This is bad. Be warned….

Yikes. I think the word I am looking for is “Why”? If you must wear a lime green onesie recycled from one of Lewis Hamilton’s cast-off tyres, go ahead. If you really need a cut-out arse-revealer, vile as it is, so be it although you should be horsewhipped even for contemplating it. But then spare us the visible thong… By the way, the padded arse look is what HRH Baby will be wearing for the next few years, but he has an excuse BECAUSE HE IS A BABY.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. We shall meet again next Friday and I shall treasure your input in the meantime. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

 This is what WTF has learned from this week’s Twitter uproar.

First, we should acknowledge that the Twittertwats target, abuse and threaten men and women of all races, religions, beliefs and practices. Second, there are some men out there who are so frustrated, angry and inarticulate  that their only response to an articulate woman is to retaliate with threats of rape, bombs or insults. Whether they mean it or not is irrelevant because they want to humiliate her and to “teach her a lesson”.  The lesson being not to assert herself.  Third,  it is not just about education. Educated men do it too, like Oliver Rawlings who, irritated by Mary Beard, called her a slut and added “I bet your vagina is disgusting”.  Fourth, the old language is creeping back into public, adjectives like “strident”, “demanding” and “shrill”. Feminism is a dirty word, synonymous with “bitch”. Apparently, feminists do not want to even things up, they want to be more than equal, which then drives  men to behave unreasonably. Beside himself with fury that some strident feminist is demanding that a woman in an Empire-line dress and bonnet should replace Charles Darwin on a ten pound note, what can a man do but tweet the shrill bitch and threaten to rape the arse off her?

Fifth, the level of casual sexism is rife. Only yesterday, after WTF took to task a youth whose comment on a Lads’ ”This is what a Feminist Pin Up Would Look Like” post (answer fat with huge tits, gosh that’s witty) was “Kill it (note the it) before it lays an egg”  (WTF will pause here to allow you to wipe away those tears of mirth). The youth, without a hint of irony, replied by calling WTF, whom he has never seen, “a fat ugly fuck” and a ”sad feminist c**t” who had bingo wings and who needed to “loose (sic) some weight”.  Further up the food chain, when challenged by Stella Creasy MP about a reference to another MP’s tits, political commentator James Delingpole asked her whether she was coming onto him – twice. WTF is only surprised no one suggested that Stella must be “on the rag”.

Which brings us to Stella, Caroline Criado-Perez, and the other women threatened with rape and violence this week and the sixth thing WTF learned this week. Both men and women have turned against them all, declaring that they are “milking it”, that if they don’t like Twitter they should just log off or block their attackers, that they are provoking responses and then complaining about those responses and running to the cops about them, that they are fame-whores. This rather misses the point. If they have been going on about being threatened with rape, it is only that the police and Twitter itself did nothing to help until they were shamed into it. Actually, that is not quite true. Twitter did do something. The bloke CC-P appealed to initially blocked her.  This also misses the other point, which is there is something fundamentally wrong with a society where men behave like this.

So WTF is not having this “middle-class feminist conspiracy against freedom of self-expression” bollocks. Because threatening rape against a woman or sending her a bomb threat or calling her a whore or a slut or a c**t, whether with or without bingo wings, or speculating about her vagina is totally and completely unacceptable and whilst men do it they bring this shit-storm on themselves.

Let us now turn to the sartorial stories of the week….

We start with the 2013 Monaco Love Ball where the Munsters (aka the Monegasque Royal Family) mingle with the very rich and the very, very rich. On the left we have Princess Caroline wearing Chanel and on the right we have Princess Charlene wearing Atelier Versace. In the middle we have model Natalia Vodianova wearing Dior.

Charlene and Nadia look lovely in their frocks. Charlene’s is just the right side of a net curtain but has some beautiful delicate embroidery on the bodice and fits her like a glove, and WTF rarely has anything nice to say about Versace. Caroline, on the other hand, is wearing a nightie with straps like something on a kiddie car seat, a floppy black bow and Pat Butcher earrings. The whole essence of Chanel used to be elegant simplicity but it has gone right down the pan under the controlling hand of Nosferatu look-a-likey, Karl Lagerfeld. WTF notes that Charlene has placed a friendly arm around Nadia’s waist which is more than she ever does when pictured with husband Prince Albert. Just saying….

Say hallo to actor and drag queen RuPaul on his way to Fergie’s baby shower (that is Fergie the singer not Fergie the Duchess of York.)

A suit in a particularly virulent shade of Germolene pink with white facings, white buttons and white bits along the pockets and down the trousers, worn with white toe-post sandals? Oh dear…. even the bag has white piping. RuPaul! Step away from the white piping!

Some chaps will love this, but WTF is all bristling disapprobation. I give you Naya Rivera off Glee in not much Norma Kamali.

Yes, she is gorgeous with abs to die for. But here’s the thing. She is in Hollywood en route to a TV interview and she is wearing a bikini top whilst everyone around her is fully dressed. There is only one word for Naya’s almost-outfit. Trashy.

This is actress Paula Patton wearing Basil Soda at the premiere of her movie 2 Guns.

Paula’s stylist, a person receiving money under false pretences, has elongated the front split, added some nasty white shoes and over-emphasised Paula’s tits. WTF will say it again – tits are not meant to be spherical. Tits are not meant to start just under your clavicles. Tits should not be worn with genitalia curtains. And genitalia curtains should not be worn at all. Ever. Paula should sit down with her stylist and utter these 2 words – “you’re fired”.

Here is an abominably dressed man in the form of Entourage actor Adrian Grenier at the première of Blue Jasmine (a film that he is not actually in).

Look, Adrian, if you can’t be arsed to go out to a première,  just refuse the invitation. However if you do accept the invitation have the decency to change into something (a) suitable (b)  laundered and (c) which does not make you look like the pool cleaner on his way to the cash and carry to stock up on chlorine. And whilst you are about it, buy a razor and a hair brush. You see, Adrian, turning up looking like a sack of shit says “Look at me! I am so much more important than your poxy film”. Which, Adrian, is rude.

Now this is just terribly, terribly terrible. Here is Zosia Mamet off Girls wearing Rebecca Minkoff.

WTF took against Zosia when she and her sister asked the public to cough up  for the cost of their cutting an album. To which the public responded “you can pay for your own album”. And the public was quite right. Zosia earns a good living from Girls and does not need to go about looking for a sub. Anyway I digress. Zosia always looks unkempt and depressed although to be fair anyone would look depressed in these ugly red silk shorts and a shirt with bits hanging out and other bits tucked in and so swirly that it should carry its own Government Health warning.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Pass the word around, post your comments and we will meet again next Friday. Be good.

Hallo Readers,

WTF is stepping away from the issue of trolls as she is more than a little bored with the recriminations over who did and who did not observe Sunday’s twitter silence, a topic generating as much heat and vehemence as the collaborationists in post-war France. Anyway, there is a far more important matter for our consideration. I refer to the Simon Cowell Baby.

For those of you who are visiting from Mars and may not have caught the news of late, Simon has impregnated a woman called Lauren Silverman who may or may not have been sleeping with him whilst still with her husband Andrew, a man now doomed to play the role of the most prominent public cuckold since Menelaus. According to what paper you read, Simon and Lauren are either madly in love or had split up weeks before her public declaration of pregnancy; she is either a fun-loving, confident woman or a scheming minx; Simon is either over the moon or deeply appalled; and she is either demanding her own reality show and a house in the Cotswolds  or he has bought her a $10m mansion in Hollywood. In other words, no one knows a bloody thing and is making it up and calling it news. The Daily Mail has hardly reported anything else for a fortnight. Simon has engaged the services of  publicist Max Clifford, whilst over in New York lawyers Shyster, Shyster and Shyster are doing battle on his behalf with Andrew’s lawyers Grabbit, Chargeit and Spendit and both sets of lawyers are probably at war with Lauren’s lawyers Sue, Sue and Sue Again and it is all extremely unedifying.

Meanwhile the Witches’ Coven of Simon’s exes, Jackie, Sinitta, Terri and Mezhgan (who are pretty much interchangeable and who all have stuck to him like shit to a blanket even though they mostly cannot abide each other) are said to be deeply dismayed. Each of these ladies is still friendly with the hairy Lothario and have spent countless holidays with him, including floating about on the yachts which Simon used to hire jointly with Menelaus and the sultry Helen of Troy that is Lauren Silverman.  Mezhgan, to whom he was engaged, still travels with him as his makeup artist and he has bought her a house, and, if memory serves, one for Terri as well. If the Coven could receive such largesse having just gone out with him, who knows what riches Simon will rain into Lauren’s lap as mother of the Dauphin and heir to the Cowell multi-millions? The whole thing resembles a particularly noxious edition of The Jeremy Kyle Show with Jeremy berating Simon for not having “put something on the end of it” and Graham, the bearded bloke who dishes out pseudo-analysis to the chavs and druggies, consoling Sinitta as she wails “it should have been me” and everyone having a punch up and being separated by those tattooed man-mountains employed as bouncers. Personally WTF thinks that Simon should charter another yacht  and sail off into the sunset with Lauren and the Dauphin and the Coven and if he could take David Walliams and Amanda Holden and Alesha Dixon and little Louis “you’re like a young Aretha Franklin” Walsh with him, that would be even better. Bon voyage! The Bermuda triangle is that way…..

Our review of the week’s sartorial atrocities begins with a newcomer to these pages, Playmate of the Year 2011 and aspiring actress Claire Sinclair, wearing not very much at all at the premiere of Lovelace. 

This is a swimsuit with a see through sarong. It would look trashy, and then some, around the pool let alone on the Red Carpet. Admittedly, Claire is no stranger to baring her arse, but even so…..

Next up we have actress Alyssa Milano wearing Stella McCartney at the Young Hollywood Awards.

Regular Readers will know that WTF is not a fan of Stella in general and of her penchant for onesies in particular. This creased, peek-a-boo monstrosity does not fit Alyssa around the crotch, the trousers are too long and it features one of WTF’s least favourite fashion innovations, pleated tits. WTF hates pleated tits almost above all things because they are ugly. That is all there is to be said about pleated tits. Meanwhile, WTF is consumed with the urge to colour in those peek-a-boo slits with indelible magic marker…

Our next guest is Cat Deeley at the same awards wearing Etro.

Sadly WTF must report that this is not Cat’s finest hour. Whilst her print skirt is striking, those wrapped-up tits are very low-slung like an elderly dowager in an episode of Downton Abbey (alas, shortly to be foisted upon us again). However the Dowager would be rather more covered up than Cat here which would be wise given that the Abbey seems a little draughty, what with those long corridors and high ceilings and M’Lud’s continuing worries about the cost of everything whilst maintaining a skeleton staff of 50.  

Minge moment of the week is back in the form of Australian actress Margot Robbie wearing Ermanno Scervino at the London premiere of her new film About Time .

A lace tablecloth worn over a vest with a fringed muff ruff. Horrible.

Now to the America’s Got Talent Red Carpet Event and one of the judges, Melanie Brown née Scary Spice.

Ah, you can take the girl out of Leeds…. Mel’s head seems to have been superimposed onto this illusion dress although frankly it is more delusion than illusion, the delusion being that tight and tacky and apparently made out of a discarded school serving hatch constitutes classy. Note to Mel – it doesn’t. WTF can only surmise that the designer was inspired by the notion of Nefertiti as a Vegas showgirl.

We now greet Nosferatu himself, Karl Lagerfeld  out shopping in St. Tropez.

Karl has recently put Princess Caroline of Monaco into a couple of shocking lace nighties and called them couture and it seems that his lost touch now extends to his own wardrobe. Let us pass over the fact that he is rather overdressed for the French Riviera in August. Let us instead pay attention to Karl’s top half, which together with his absurd little ponytail, makes him look for all the world like one of Princess Caroline’s footmen from the Pink Palace at Monte Carlo. That done, let us pass to the chef-style printed jeans which snuggle around his unmentionables, pausing also to take in the pointy white leather booties. Karl – WTF suspects that you must live surrounded by mirrors. Do yourself a favour and look in one of them before you next step out in public. And whilst you are out browsing round the shops, buy some trousers that fit you.

To L.A. and singer-songwriter Bonnie McKee.

There is more than a touch of WTF regular Courtney Stodden about this ensemble which falls firmly into the category identified sagely by WTF aficionado Sian as “not even clothes”. However Bonnie is 29 years old and therefore old enough to know better. This is a woman who has co-written 8 #1 hits for the likes of Katy Perry and Britney Spears. However none of that excuses this loathsome mishmash of satin, leather, fringing and mega-hideous tarts trotters. As for the horrible hair, it passeth all understanding…..

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep the comments coming, which are always well worth reading, follow me on @WTF_EEK and let us meet again next week. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

Joan Edwards died aged 90 leaving her life savings to “whichever Government is in office at the date of my death for the Government in their absolute discretion to use as it thinks fit”. Ms Edwards neither married nor had children and after a long career as a nurse and midwife she wanted the Nation to benefit from the money but after her death someone decided that the proper interpretation of this clause was that the estate (£520,000) should end up in the hot little hands of the Coalition parties who decided in their absolute discretion to divide  the proceeds between them. And so it came to pass that the Tories pocketed £420,ooo and the Lib Dems £100,000. They must have thought that it was Christmas. 

Now the law sets great store on the analytical skills of the Man on the Clapham Omnibus or, as we say these days, the Person on the Boris Bus stuck in traffic on the Common due to road works whilst suffering from heatstroke and deafened by passengers listening to rap music on their headphones. This person, be s/he ever so humble, would have concluded that this was a bequest to the Nation. Nevertheless, the combined IQs of  Ms Edwards’ executors/solicitors, Government advisors and bigwigs at Tory and Liberal Democrat Central Offices reached the opposite conclusion, namely that despite the absence of the words “political” or “party” or “pigs’-snouts-in-the-trough”, Ms Edwards had really wanted her hard-earned cash to go to Call Me Dave and Nicky Clegg for them to throw lavish fundraising suppers and put up mendacious posters slagging off each other and little Ed Miliband (on the assumption that he is still in post) come the next election.

And now we come to the intervention of the most improbable hero since 1966 when Pickles the Dog found the Jules Rimet trophy (which had recently been stolen) in the bushes in South Norwood. Pickles was rewarded for his efforts by being invited (with his owner) to the celebration banquet when Engerland went on to win the World Cup.  And what a cutie he is …. 

The Daily Mail could never be described as cute and as WTF has observed on many occasions it is more lethal than crack cocaine. Nevertheless credit must be given where credit is due because The Mail, sniffing around like Pickles in those bushes,  discovered that there had never been a party political element to the bequest despite some frantic spin to the contrary. The Mail then splashed the story under a typical headline along the lines of “Lying Thieving Bastard MPs Steal Spinster’s Savings” whereupon it all went off, the Person on the Clapham Omnibus and all the other passengers voiced their disapprobation and both parties were forced into a humiliating climb-down and had to hand the money to the Treasury. We are left with The Mail smelling of roses, for about 5 minutes anyway, whilst there is a smell emanating from the Coalition similar to what used to come out of Pickles’ rear end. And then they wonder why people despise politicians….

We start our review of the week’s  sartorial excesses with Nicole Scherzinger wearing Three Floor at the X Factor auditions.

Yes, it is almost time for those long Saturday nights when deluded, tone-deaf wannabees murder popular favourites between interminable ad breaks. The good news is that Simon has ditched Tulisa who has left to spend more time with her solicitors. The bad news is that he has disinterred Sharon Osborne and we all know how much Sharon likes being around younger, fresh-faced women. What with that and her umpteenth breakup with Lewis Hamilton, Nicole is not concentrating on her style as evidenced by this hideous dress with its peekaboo panels, throttling throat straps (hereinafter to be referred to as Saatchi straps), a peplum that makes her appear half dressed and unzip-me-genitalia curtains. Poor.

Now we travel to Sydney to meet the former Miss Universe and TV presenter Jennifer Hawkins.

The last time WTF saw someone standing like than they were 5 years old and desperate for a wee-wee. Jennifer’s dress is strobing like crazy and looks like a Halloween costume. It’s August, love…. 

Here is stylist Cameron Silver at the Instyle Soirée.

Thom Browne is to blame for this as the designer who pushed for this shorts-suit nonsense and Cameron’s version seems to be made of wallpaper and is giving WTF a headache.

Next we have WTF stalwart Miley Cyrus at the Teen Choice Awards.

Miley is here because her ensemble is head to toe Yves St Laurent, the design house which brought you le Smoking and other beautiful creations from the time when clothes used to be elegant. Her skirt appears to be composed of a row of leather belts which she has teamed with a tiny leather bra, a see-through shirt showcasing her tattoos and white stilettos. Sadly, despite the dizzying cost, Miley still looks like a Hollywood hooker touting for trade.

Also in attendance at the same event was Hayley Williams, lead singer of the band Paramore, wearing an Elif Domanic leather fuck-knows-what-it-is, an All Saints leather skirt and Valentino Rockstud sandals, which are apparently, the shoes for this Fall and could be yours for only $945….

Here is another one with writing and drawing all over her. Why? WTF is quite fascinated by the leather birdcage worn over a black tit bandage and can only say that Hayley looks very, very silly. Plus her head looks like a pot of marmalade.

This is another newcomer to these pages, Irish actor Robert Sheehan wearing London designers Dent de Man with white Del Toro shoes with their signature blue soles.

 WTF might, might, have got over the paisley suit had the jacket not conformed to the new Norman Wisdom school of ill-fitting tightness and been slightly less, er, paisley but the suit is rendered irrelevant by the real issue which is WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE SHOES? It is not just that WTF believes that men should only wear white shoes if they are either doctors or playing sport but these shoes look positively radio-active. WTF is only surprised that men in protective suits and breathing masks did not storm the cinema and carry Robert off like they did with ET. Del Toro and Dent de Man…go home.

Now WTF does not usually bother with Lady Gaga because she does it on purpose which is also why you do not see the likes of Nikki Minaj and Paloma Faith on these pages. But what follows simply cannot be ignored. This is Milady on a Manhattan street this week. Those of a nervous disposition might want to breathe deeply into a brown paper bag – or throw up in it. Ready? (You won’t be….)

When did it stop being illegal to flash your arse in public? When did people stop wearing proper clothes? Gaga’s horrible Louboutin bootees and her tattoos (yes, she’s another one) provide more coverage than her outfit does and thank Heaven for the bra and thong. This appears to be the same YSL bodysuit worn by Kate Moss  at Paris Fashion Week in March but whilst Kate was flashing some arse, at least she wore a long black jacket over it. No, sorry, WTF needs to go and lie down for a prolonged period.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week, and indeed for next week too. WTF is not seeking the help of healthcare professionals after seeing Lady Gaga’s arse although she would not rule it out…rather she is off to the Edinburgh Festival and will be far too busy running from venue to restaurant to wine bar to venue to be perusing the Internet for fashion disasters.  So be extra good in my absence and let us meet again on Friday 30 August x

Hallo Readers,

Wow! Who saw that one coming? Call Me Dave tried to lead us up the garden path into military madness and Parliament stopped him. It was simply astonishing. The majority of MPs realised that the British Public, having been lumbered with an on-going war in Afghanistan for reasons nobody can now remember (always assuming that there were any) and then having been conned over Iraq, would not accept us taking up arms without proper evidence and even before the UN Inspectors had reported. They voted against intervention in Syria, not even of any kind. Wow, wow and again wow. 

How quickly things change. Only last week, Call Me Dave and his family were on holiday in sunny Cornwall and we were treated to the usual staged snaps of him wearing the navy blue polo shirt kept in the wardrobe labelled “Holiday Photo Opportunity”  and clutching a pint of beer with all the enthusiasm of a man holding a giant turd. Later, in what he claimed was a private moment on touristy Polzeath Beach, he was photographed (much to the chagrin of No 10) paunchy and bare-chested, burnt the colour of a rare steak and removing his shorts under a Mickey Mouse towel. We were but a gust of wind away from a full meat-and-two-veg moment. 

Then suddenly the Cornish idyll was over and Call Me Dave was rushing back to Downing Street to prepare for war. Such was the urgency that Parliament was recalled 2 days early to vote for (unspecified) military action. Never mind that we had not intervened after any of the 14 previous deployments of chemical weapons or that no one is quite sure who the Syrian rebels are or why or whether we should be helping them out or even whether the vile Assad regime was in fact responsible for this latest outrage - Call Me Dave and Nick Clegg were ready for action. It was like listening to Noddy and Big Ears rallying the troops at Agincourt.

However, Cameron found himself faced first with dissent amongst his backbenchers and then with a volte face by Little Ed Miliband (because his backbenchers were similarly unenthusiastic). The day before the vote, Little Ed announced that he would not support a motion approving military action without “compelling evidence” and a further vote and he tabled an amendment to that effect. Call Me Dave was forced to table a watered-down motion along the lines of “Does The House agree that it might be a good idea (but only if we have the evidence and after another debate) that we might, perhaps, and only if The House is OK with it,  bomb the hell out of Syria?” Downing Street was highly displeased and “a Government source” briefed journalists that the PM and the Foreign Office thought that Little Ed was a “fucking c**t” and a “copper-bottomed shit”.

Thursday arrived. Opening the debate, Call Me Dave produced no concrete evidence that Assad had launched the latest attack and did not condescend to particulars about what we were going to do or what would happen if it didn’t work and neither did anyone else. As a result, despite the obvious horrors suffered by innocent Syrians and the obloquy  heaped upon Little Ed who made rather a stuttering speech, the Government lost. 30 Tories rebelled and matters were not helped when another voted in both lobbies and so was deemed to abstain whilst  2 Tory Ministers did not hear the division bell because they were “having a discussion in another room” and missed the vote. Don’t they have a pager or a mobile phone?  Another Minister, former Chancellor and Home Secretary Ken Clarke, missed it for “logistical family reasons”. 9 Lib Dem MPs also rebelled. In the end, neither Call Me Dave nor Little Ed won their motions because there was no appetite for war with or without a further vote. As one of the rebels, former Army Officer Adam Holloway MP explained, “outrage is not a strategy”.

So that’s it. Obama will still bomb Damascus, probably tomorrow, but our PM will not be part of it as his mother wouldn’t let him. Call Me Dave is licking his wounds and is holed, perhaps fatally, beneath the waterline.  Frankly, Mickey Mouse probably has a David Cameron towel……..

Let us change the subject and turn our attention to the less taxing issue of this week’s sartorial disasters. We start with Brooke Burke, hostess of Dancing with the Stars.

This is just jaw-droppingly terrible. Terrible. Even little Justin Bieber would baulk at Brooke’s silken trousers/nappy/dhoti/incontinence-thingy. What on earth can she be hiding in there?

Next to Mexico City to meet Lily Collins, daughter of warbling singer Phil, seen here with her co-star and ex boyfriend Jamie Campbell-Bower and wearing a deplorable dress by designer Mihail Sykianakis.

Jamie looks fetching (apart from the hat) but Lily’s dress is both ugly and unflattering. Mihail apparently has “a skill for draping and creating designs directly on the body”. In this case, he appears to have draped Lily in an old fishing net and created a design using dried elephant droppings, a method favoured by artist Chris Ofili. Boring shoes too…..

Now to LA and Battlestar Galactica actress Tricia Helfer showing a vast amount of tit at the premiere of the new Vin Diesel film, Riddick.

WTF is unsure what is the most disturbing – the cleavage, the slithery DJ with ankle ties or the seams around the crotch like a codpiece with no cod in it. And that bag resembles a hand towel.

Now to Brooklyn and the MTV Video Music Awards where this year’s dress code must have been “slutty”. There was flesh where there should have been fabric, minge moments galore and anything that actually covered the body was either see-through or had more holes than a teabag. It comes to something where Lady Gaga was the one of the most restrained on the Red Carpet. Let us start with Katy Perry wearing Emanuel Ungaro.

The dress reminds WTF of a leopard skin left under a golden tree, there is too much thigh and the neckline makes Katy’s head seem superimposed. Meanwhile, her splayed toes look as though someone else’s hands have been sewn onto her ankles.

This would have been Minge Moment of the Week had the lovely Ciara not been pipped to the post by Iggy Azalea. Here she is wearing Givenchy Couture.

If it looks familiar, that is because it is. Beyoncé wore a similar dress at the Met Ball in 2012 but this is even worse. As is the rear view with its encrustations….

Half scaly woman, half feather duster like some mythological creature. It certainly gives a new meaning to the phrase “domestic goddess”.

Our gentleman caller this week is 2Chainz (né Tauheed Epps) in über-vulgar Versace.

He looks daft and he looked even dafter when he was interviewed by singer Grimes  on the Red Carpet and found that she was wearing the same trousers. Her outfit was more pared down but the trousers are still horrible whether on him or on her and as vulgar as Versace can be, which is pretty vulgar.

 No doubt, 2Chainz’ people are talking to Versace’s people and the conversation is unlikely to be amicable ….

This is supermodel Erin Wasson wearing Alexandre Vauthier - what there is of it.

WTF loathes the whole thing like poison, particularly the snatch-sling and the tit bandage. And here is the rear view, made even uglier by the tattoos.

This is so not a dress but then it was Alexandre who designed Emmanuelle Seigner’s revolting red obs-and-gynie dress at the Cannes Film Festival, an offence for which horse-whipping would be an inadequate punishment,

As mentioned earlier,  Ciara was beaten to the Minge Moment of the Week by Australian rapper Iggy Azalea  (née Amethyst Amelia Kelly) wearing Emilio Pucci.

And this is Iggy’s rear view….

The only reason to wear this is so Iggy can scream “Hallo Brooklyn and MTV viewers everywhere! Look at my minge!!!!!!!!”. To which the only proper response is “No thanks”.

Finally we have WTF favourite Lil’ Kim wearing a perforated bin liner.

Now a perforated bin liner is as much use as a one armed trapeze artiste with an itchy bottom which may be why Lil’ Kim turned it into a onesie with a triangle preserving what there may be of her modesty. Not wishing to be underdressed, she also added feathers, a belt with a buckle bigger than her head, yellow suede Louboutin platform bootees and vile fuchsia lipstick. Lil’ Kim has always denied having plastic surgery, a statement which WTF feels borders on the inaccurate….

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. It’s nice to be back amongst you. Keep the comments coming and be good until we meet next Friday.

Hallo Readers,

The X Factor is back and from now until Christmas warbling wannabees will be murdering Coldplay classics and tugging at our heart strings with stories of dead parents, disabled children and grieving grannies. Everyone is on a “journey” and “wants this so badly it hurts” in the same way that our eardrums hurt. Fame is beckoning them to the Promised Land and they seem to demand it as if it were their constitutional entitlement, not that we have a Constitution, or something enshrined in the European Convention of Human Rights…. They will be applying to Strasbourg next…

The thing is, nothing is what it seems (rather like those snaps of Simon Cowell and his baby-mama this week. The last time WTF saw anything more staged was back in 2000 when sanctimonious Cabinet Minister John Selwyn Gummer force-fed his daughter Cordelia a burger during the BSE outbreak.) Last week we were introduced to Sam Bailey, Sam filling the slot of the buxom mum with unruly hair, a large pair of lungs and a crap job who longs to become a singing sensation.  To add to the magic, Sam was a Prison Officer – in a male prison! She lumbered into the audition room as shy as a virgin on her wedding night and bashed out Beyoncé’s Listen with plenty of tonsil. The panel swooned. Sam then made it to the live audition in front of 4,ooo screaming  hysterics at Wembley and belted out another tonsular  triumph.  The crowd went bonkers. The panel gushed. Sam’s salt-of-the-earth husband wiped his eyes and their two little kiddies leapt up and down shouting “mummy, mummy” to order. There was so much sugar about that diabetics had to reach for their insulin.

The Sun then broke the news that Sam has sung professionally as a backing singer and on cruise ships, just like last year when tousle-haired, middle-aged mum Melanie Masson stormed through the auditions with her Janis Joplin manquée efforts before it turned out that she too had sung professionally for about 20 years. She made it to the Finals but she didn’t win like those other mums-who-just-longed-to-sing-and-leave-the-old-life-behind. Simon Cowell is not going to waste his time on anyone he can’t market to the kiddies and kiddies may go ooh and aah at buxom older ladies who can hit the high notes but they ain’t going to buy their records. Fact.

 Sam will make the Finals and can wave farewell to the old lags who will continue to bugger each other senseless without her restraining influence. After a few weeks, she will be voted off whereupon she will do the X Factor tour for a pittance and end up in pantomime in Widnes. Meanwhile, this year’s Winner will have a Christmas hit, appear on The One Show and in Grazia, Heat and Hello, pose on the Red Carpet at film premieres and then probably fall into desuetude in the manner of Steve Brookstein, Shayne Ward, Leon Jackson and  Joe McElderry. And all the while Simon Cowell will rake in more millions with which to pay for Baby Cowell’s layette and new houses for members of his discarded harem.

Talking of former winners, Alexandra Burke could sing and did win, had some hits and dated priapic footballer Jermaine Defoe but like others before her, her record contract has been terminated and she is now reduced to appearing wherever she can to drum up interest in her career. Like this…

It has to be said that this leotard, reminscent of a shrink-to-fit black plastic bag, is nearly as big an error as the tights with their reinforced gusset. If you are going to wear flesh-coloured tights with a PVC cut-out leotard (i) don’t, but (ii) if you do ensure that your tights are sheer from waist to toe. Not so much the X Factor as the WTF Factor. With added “F”.

Here is Lady Gaga, back again because she is wearing this Versace thing in a London street.

Lady G is wearing a very nice bra. It is just that the rest of us neither need nor wish to see it under this sparklefest onesie or at all. Living in London is quite stressful enough at the moment what with the heat and every bloody road being dug up simultaneously. We do not need to look at half naked women flashing their underwear on a public thoroughfare.

However, there has been an immense amount of flashing this week and not just of underwear. Sometimes, there is no underwear to flash. From what WTF can see, celebrities are now roaming about nearly naked.  What the hell happened to clothes? 

Tuesday saw the GQ Men of the Year Awards. Last year this event gave us one of 2012′s most revolting sights, namely Nancy Dell’Olio displaying sideboob and more orange than a ripe orange. This year’s Red Carpet saw a variety of women showing us their midriff, the worst of which (albeit in a hotly contested field) was young Emma  Watson wearing Balenciaga.

She looks like the Flying Nun whilst the baggy trousers put WTF in mind of Charlie Chaplin.  All she needs is a bowler hat, a walking stick and a little moustache….

Meanwhile there was a lot of flesh on display in the shape of model Daisy Lowe spilling out of, rather than wearing, Yves St Laurent.

None of this is YSL’s fault. The dress, properly fastened, is elegant. On Daisy, it is bursting open like a slovenly slapper in a negligée and red fuck-me shoes who has popped outside to collect the milk in some 1960′s movie. The word “cheap” has insufficient nuance. Put it away love for Heaven’s sake.

Here is in the Gucci-clad form of Olivia Wilde  at the premiere of Rush in Leicester Square.

To paraphrase the classic Peter Cook and Dudley Moore One Leg Too Few sketch, I have nothing against the Gucci tuxedo – the problem is neither does she.  As the result she looks trashy, not helped by more makeup than a Chisinau cocktail waitress at Happy Hour.

The Minge Moment of the Week comes from the Venice Film Festival where model Natalia Borges was wearing Fausto Puglisi.

Natalia is Brazilian and she needed a Brazilian to get away with these double split genitalia curtains and tawdry tan mark. This dress has crossed the boundary of ostentation and scaled the heights of exhibitionism and it could have all been so lovely had Fausto only extended the seams by another 18 inches. Gorgeous shoes though.

Finally we have Cate Blanchett, fully clothed, wearing Christopher Kane.at the premiere of her new film Blue Jasmine

Blimey, it’s Spiderwoman …Cate has worn some very strange outfits recently  and this is certainly one of the strangest, not  just because it makes her look lop-sided but also because every time WTF looks at that face-thingy whose bald head is nuzzling her left breast, she keeps seeing Rupert Murdoch.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep the comments coming and you might want to follow me on @WTF_EEK.  Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

Those of you who follow @WTF_EEK in Twitter (look, we have had this discussion before – this is the 21st century. Get on with it. Just saying…) will know that last weekend, WTF went to Copenhagen for the weekend and it proved to be very agreeable. The weather was lovely, the people charming and the City delightful.  WTF visited the Tivoli Gardens on Saturday night, lured in by the twinkling lights which transform the place into a magical fairy kingdom, only to find a rap competition going on in which a number of pink and white Danes in hoodies yelled incomprehensibly into the microphone.  Although she fancies herself as a Danish speaker after being glued devotedly to The Killing and Borgen, WTF’s mastery of the language is limited to “tak” (thank you), “ja” (yes),“hej” (hallo) and Statsminister (Prime Minister) but there were two words frequently deployed  by finalists DJ Music and MC Ollie which she did understand – “fuck” and “motherfucker”. It was as if Hans Christian Anderson had turned into Ray Winstone. Britain has given the word “fuck” to the world, the Americans used it to coin “motherfucker” and now our cultural heritage has spread itself across the globe. WTF was a proud woman, I can tell you….

WTF was struck by the timing of her somewhat surreal Tivoli experience given the spat between David Cameron and the Russian Foreign Office whose unnamed official was said to have described us as “just a small island” to which “no one pays any attention”. Call Me Dave was obviously inspired by Mr Prime Minister Hugh Grant in Love Actually in that scene when he gave US President Billy Bob Thornton a bollocking and waxed lyrical about David Beckham and Harry Potter after Billy had snogged the tea lady. Similarly, Call Me Dave sprang to the defence of this sceptred isle, this earth of majesty, this throne of Mars. His voice quavering with emotion, Call Me Dave extolled our unique virtues, our combatting of fascism, our invention of various sports, our responsibility for “art, literature and music that delights the entire world” not to mention “our literature, our art, our philosophy, our contribution, including of course the world’s language”.…. He probably had DJ Music and MC Ollie right in mind. Whether they have actually heard of him is another matter.

The contrast between the Danes and the Brits is striking. Denmark is a small country and it does not pretend to be anything else. It does not strut itself upon the world’s stage. It does not demand automatic respect and it does not trade upon past glories. As she strolled around Copenhagen WTF reflected that it must be restful not to have to keep up a lifestyle when you can’t afford the bills. Britain is a bit like Lord Grantham struggling to pay the mortgage on Downton Abbey and having to flog off the family silver, rather as Call Me Dave is now busy selling off Royal Mail to citizens and giving shares to employees when both groups thought that they already owned it. After all, we have spent enough public money shoring it up and making it profitable and last year it turned an operating profit of £440,000,000. But hey, we need the money….we have a war to conduct and we were not far off getting sucked into another one.

In the meantime, Putin seems to be playing a blinder in stopping the invasion of Syria (never mind that Russia has been propping up its regime for decades),   Call Me Dave had to tell his mate Obama that Britain was busy washing its hair and couldn’t send its bombers and our Mail Services will be run by Heaven knows who, probably with the same degree of success as our banks, our utilities and our airports. But never mind. We can all console ourselves with the thought that we have left the world richer than we found it. Motherfucker!!!!!! Ja!!!!!!!

Let us turn to the fashion disasters of the week, kicking off with a double helping of horror from the TV Choice Awards, an event where orange nobodies congregate to hand out prizes to each other for being orange. First we have Coronation Street star Brooke Vincent in what appears to be a scarlet valance from Manchester couturiers The Dolls House.

The bag firmly clamped to her crotch leads WTF to believe that there may be some serious camel toe lurking under there….meanwhile, should you want your eyeballs to stand out on stalks, check out the Dolls House website where a cornucopia of horribleness awaits you.

And then we have veteran actress Jenny Agutter.

WTF is struggling to imagine how this could have been any more terrible. The whole thing is positively baffling, particularly the faux butterfly-necklace and the profusion of stupid little baubles whilst the drop-waist tunic makes her legs seem shorter than Toulouse Lautrec’s. She looks like a concubine at the Court of Nebuchadnezzar. And those shoes!!!

Tuesday saw the 25th birthday party of the DKNY line and amongst those present was gorgeous Supermodel Joan Smalls wearing the eponymous label.

It may be DKNY and Joan’s abs may be a thing of wonder but the fact is that this is a sports bra and big pants with a droopy net skirt. The logo behind her makes her look like a Playboy Bunny. Nice to see women’s liberation alive and well in the 21st century…

Now we have singer Pharrell Williams wearing, amongst other things, a Junya Watanabe coat.

One would be forgiven for thinking that an emergency caused Pharrell to abandon home whereupon he grabbed whatever clothing first came to hand. There is the Pied Piper coat, the spotty asymmetric  waistcoat, the shirt designed for someone much taller worn over manky shorts and the hideous snakeskin espadrilles. Nothing goes with anything else and every item sucks. Except the hat.

To Munich and actress Diane Kruger wearing Jill Stuart for the premiere of the US TV version The Bridge.

WTF is unsure what is more galling – the dress, the $1200 Charlotte Olympia handbag (for that money one would expect the clock to work but it is a fake) or the fact there is an anglicised remake of the brilliant Swedish/Danish crime drama. Heaven forfend that Americans could actually watch something with subtitles. As for the dress, mock-braces over tits are never good and over lacy tits they are worse. Even Diane looks unimpressed.

It is New York Fashion Week and Victoria Beckham was photographed everywhere in her own creations, including this one.

Mrs Beckham is the size of a twiglet and nibbles only on edamame, raw fish and frozen strawberries, so it is a surprise to learn that this massive tent, big enough to house the entire Beckham family, is the favourite of her designs this season. As WTF aficionado Alison remarked, no-one looks good in Mama Cass couture, especially when it is made out of the stuff used to protect mattresses from the incontinent. 

Minge moment of the week belongs to Danish singer/songwriter Aura Dione wearing Balmain at the Novak Djokovic Foundation Gala in New York.

Before last weekend, WTF’s previous experience of Danish music had been limited to Nina and Frederick but first came the Tivoli Gardens rapperfest and now her sighting of Aura whose ensemble makes her look like a bedraggled monochrome Harlequin after a fight with a Doberman. 

Bad as Aura is, the booby prize (in more ways than one) goes to another Supermodel, our own Ms Angry-as-Hell Naomi Campbell at the same event wearing vintage Gianni Versace.

Even at 43, Naomi still has the most fantastic body, made even better by the fact that she is not and never was a stick insect, but even she cannot get away with portcullis tits like the Madame of a Streatham S&M house. It is so vulgar that it would have to be Versace wouldn’t it? And how appropriate for an event raising funds for educating children….

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. You have been sparse with the comments recently and WTF is sensitive and worries that you don’t love her any more. Have a good week and we shall meet again next Friday xx

Hallo Readers

There is a splendid Gershwin song beginning “I’ve been around the world on a plane, I’ve settled revolutions in Spain, The North Pole I have charted, But I can’t get started with you”. Which brings us to Leader of the Liberal Democrats and Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg.

This week it was the LibDem conference in Glasgow and Nick gave a rousing speech in which, as far as WTF could make out,  he claimed singlehanded responsibility for all the Government’s successes. The economy! Free school meals! Tackling climate change! As @TheHappySlapper tweeted, you expected him to end the speech claiming to have captured Assad and personally put on the handcuffs. Nick probably invented Twitter and doubtless will shortly unveil a cure for cancer.

Like Gaul, Nick’s speech was divided into 3 parts. First he told us about himself and his values and how he only got into politics because of Paddy Ashdown (yet another reason to dislike the pompous old git) and how nice it was to be in Government after years in the wilderness, as if Nick’s happiness was the primary concern of the UK electorate. Then he told us all about his triumphs and about all the things that those horrid Tories would have done were it not for Nick’s restraining hand. Of course this raised the question why the LibDems want to be in coalition with people whose policies are so repugnant to them but Nick answered that in the third part of his speech. The LibDems are there to act as a moderating factor on the majority partner in a Coalition. Not the Coalition. Any coalition. Tories. Labour. UKIP. The Monster Raving Loony Party. It makes no difference to Nick because Nick has reinvented himself as the political equivalent of Neutrosol, a neutralising agent to counter the excesses of others.

Time was when the Liberals (as were) dreamed of Government but with as much chance of achieving it as Katie Price editing Debrett’s Peerage. They were everyone’s favourite second team like Newcastle United – loveable but never going to win anything. Then in 2010 Nick stormed the TV debates. He was  plausible and more importantly he was neither Brown nor Cameron. He won seats. On becoming Deputy PM, Nick immediately broke his promise about abolishing tuition fees which went up three-fold,  prompting  him into a grovelling apology so abject that it was made into a song. Far from being the breath of fresh air in the fetid atmosphere of politics, he was just another slick public schoolboy in a sharp suit hungry for power. Since then, despite Nick’s high moral tone, David Laws resigned as Chief Secretary to the Treasury within weeks after being caught fiddling his expenses, Chris Huhne resigned as Secretary of State for Climate Change and later went to prison for letting his wife take his penalty points on her licence and roly-poly Lord Rennard resigned as the Party’s Chief Executive after revelations that he was a serial groper, a fact Nick and others failed to act upon. Such is the level of disaffection that Sarah Teather, one of his few female MPs, announced that she is to step down at the next election because she has lost faith in Nick and the Party. Join the queue, love…

So Nick may have flown the world in a plane and sorted revolutions in Spain and charted the North Pole but he can’t get started again with the public and some of his party who did not appreciate the fact that Nick’s unpopularity means that he knows his Party will never govern alone so he has had to reinvent the Party. Vote Nick and as well as making him happy with his big office and posh title and grace and favour country house and chauffeur-driven limousine, he will be the antidote to other parties’ policies – apart, that is, from the ones that he cannot do anything to stop.

To the week’s sartorial horrors, starting with Tony Blair and his fragrant wife Cherie Blair at their son’s wedding. Pass the sickbag….

It is a truth universally acknowledged that British women do not know how to dress for weddings and one reason for this is their fondness for fascinators, hair decorations like those in Claire’s Accessories expanded with bits of netting and worn by cheapskates instead of a hat. Cherie looks as if she lost a fight with a rosebush and she also ticks every box in the Wedding Don’t Checklist – too much makeup (ageing), beige blancmange (boring), wrong length (kninckles), silk (creases), voluminous (unflattering), bows (doubly unflattering) and sling-backs WITH TIGHTS (just bad).

We welcome a  newcomer to these pages, celebrity blogger Vas Morgan,  out with those luminaries of showbiz Lauren Pope (left) and Dannii Park-Dempsey (right) off TOWIE.

Vas describes himself as “a UK Showbiz Blogger and Socialite who has ultimate presence on the party scene worldwide” but he looks like a cut-price Kanye West in his ugly leather skirt and hobnail boots. If you want to wear a skirt, at least make it a nice one. WTF also deplores anyone wearing sunglasses either at night or indoors without a doctor’s certificate. As for Lauren and Dannii, the former could just about pass muster but for the trout pout and the latter is wearing a see-through nightie over black Spanx.

Say hallo to singer Paloma Faith at London Fashion Week attending the Julien Macdonald show wearing, er, Julien Macdonald.

Designers get celebrities to sit at their shows wearing something from the collection being shown, the celebrity gets a free dress and the designer gets additional free publicity. What’s not to like? Answer – this awful Joan Collins castoff (which looks too tight) and a preposterous hat. Who knew that anyone wore gold pumps except on Strictly Come Dancing?

We come to über-fashionista, Daphne Guinness at an LFW party.

Daphne looks like a silvery shredded Captain Sparrow but with patterned hosiery. It is a testament to her unique look that when she went to an LFW fancy dress party on Sunday night she looked the same as she usually does because for Daphne every day is a fancy dress party. Here is the phrase “more money than sense” made flesh.

LFW is over and the fashionistas have moved to do it all again in Milan. Here is another newcomer to these pages in the colourful form of  Italian TV personality, wedding planner and man-about-town Enzo Miccio.

It is just so awesomely terrible, a clown suit with too-short trousers, purple tie, peacock-blue socks and pea-green loafers. WTF has never seen a man in green shoes before and hopes not to repeat the experience anytime soon.

Here is another über-fashionista, Anna dello Russo, wearing made-to-measure Gucci menswear.

She looks like a Bolton bingo caller. What is she doing? The trouser pocket linings are visible,  making the outfit look cheap when it clearly isn’t and the bowtie is ludicrous. For made-to-measure the trousers seem awfully long. And why the welders’ goggles?

Minge moment of the week belongs to model Selita Ebanks at a charity gala in New York.

In order to walk without showing us her all, Selita had to clutch her dress around her in a manner reminiscent of Call Me Dave dropping his shorts under his Mickey Mouse towel…   And the dress is ugly and badly made. Shocking.

This is Taiwanese singing and dancing star Jolin Tsai, aka Asia’s Dancing Queen (she earned $23,000,000 last year) in Beijing. Click on the link, ignore the first minute of silence and she’s actually quite tuneful.

WTF is going to be straight with you – she has no idea what the hell is going on here. None whatsoever. Jolin seems to be wearing a bodystocking and a skirt from the pelt of a White Bengal tiger with its stray fur for trimmings. One hopes that she did not kill it herself although it would explain those rips…

As for the 3D floating thingies like giant white bar codes, you could torture WTF with hot implements and she would still be unable to tell you what they are or how they stay up. However she can say with absolute confidence that even without the bondage bootees this is one of the most ridiculous outfits she has ever seen.

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. You responded to WTF’s needy pleas for comments and made her happy. Keep them coming. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x

Hallo Readers,

This week saw ASDA selling something even more tasteless than its foodstuffs – Halloween outfits marketed as “mental patient costumes” complete with bloodstains and dripping meat cleaver. Because of course everyone with any kind of mental illness is a homicidal maniac, right? The public erupted and ASDA has withdrawn the costume from sale leaving a gaping hole in the ghoul market. But the shareholders need not fear because WTF has identified two new bogeymen sufficient to satisfy the Great British Public and fill the ghoul gap. First, there is Gordon Brown’s former spin doctor, the weasel Damian McBride, who has appeased his conscience for being a weasel not by going to confession or doing good works amongst the poor but by selling his soul, sorry, story, to The Daily Mail for publication just before the Labour Party Conference. WTF would like to stick his 30 pieces of silver where the sun don’t shine. But there is someone yet more terrifying – Red Ed aka Ed Miliband, Leader of Her Majesty’s Opposition.

You know that a Labour Leader has made a half-decent speech when the Tory press goes stark staring mad and starts raving on about socialism, the decline of capitalism and the end of civilisation as we know it. Read The Daily Mail or The Express (Does anyone still read The Express? Is there an international shortage of loo paper?) and you would think that Ed had announced plans to nationalise The Royal Family and turn Buckingham Palace into a refuge for Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Somali Asylum Seekers. Add in the disapprobation of Tony Blair, Peter Mandelson, Boris Johnson, Paul Dacre, Richard Littlejohn, the energy supply companies, Tories various and Toby Young and you cannot but feel that Ed must be onto something.

WTF cannot lie – Ed does not really seem Prime Ministerial material. It is not just that he looks like Wallace from Wallace and Grommit. It is not just the adenoidal voice although listening to him is like having your eardrums stuffed full of tissues. It is the perception of a lack of gravitas. But if Tuesday’s speech showed anything, Ed does not lack principle and he understands that people are fed up with being squeezed dry in trying to pay for things that they used to own like electricity and gas and train fares and watching the NHS disintegrate and being forced to pay a bedroom tax when there are no smaller properties for them to move into whilst land is unused for tax purposes. Meanwhile the Government which opposes caps on bankers’ bonuses because it would be “bad for business” and although there is no legal aid for people who cannot afford a lawyer is now stuffing £50 notes – OUR £50 notes – into the pockets of M’Learned Friends to take on Europe on behalf of people earning £3,000,000 a year. Ed at least sounded like he was willing to do something about it.

There were notable omissions like more detail on the economy and foreign policy. WTF would have been more impressed with his claims to have restrained the invasion of Syria if he had opposed it outright from the off rather than trot out his wait and see policy once his backbenchers had told him to stuff military action. He did not tell us what would happen after the freeze on energy prices and how he would prevent them bouncing back higher than an England penalty kick. He name checked his wife and demanded a round of applause for her whilst failing to mention any of his shadow cabinet. He also came up with the bonkers idea of giving the vote to post-pubescent 16 and 17 year olds because unless the whole thing is on smartphone, they won’t give a shit.  But WTF is reluctant to condemn anyone for expressing a few convictions and some principled policies.

So will Ed end up as PM? Probably not. Having slammed him for having no policies, the Press is now slamming him for the ones he has enumerated. He is attacked for being namby-pamby whilst criticised for standing against his own brother, the Cain to David’s Abel. And sad to say, the British Public will doubtless baulk at the prospect of electing someone with a funny face whilst simultaneously complaining that all the party leaders look and sound the same. But there is a bright side – because if Ed’s funny face stops him from being elected, at least Michael Gove’s chances are buggered as well.

Let us turn to another significant question which Ed failed to address in his speech. What is the point of Pippa Middleton? She has a nice bottom and she is Kate’s sister. Otherwise, she is orange, talentless and ubiquitous. Here she is wearing Matthew Williamson.

After pictures of this feathered monstrosity (yours for only £2,450), appeared in print, zookeepers everywhere were carrying out frantic headcounts in their aviaries. Pippa  could have stepped out of the new series of Downton Abbey (set in the 1920′s): “I say, Lady I-Speak-Your-Weight-Machine-Mary, do cheer up! Let me read you my latest column in Waitrose magazine about how to boil water”.  The dress is too tight over the bust, the fabric looks like the watered-silk wallpaper you get in ladies’ toilets at posh hotels  and the clunky accessories are ill-chosen, particularly the shit-coloured clutch.

To the Emmys 2013 where there were some real shockers on view. Step forward, Paula Abdul.

It is pleated gold tinfoil. And you know what gets wrapped in tinfoil, don’t you? Turkeys. WTF’s researches have failed to find the designer of this  excrescence and can only guess that s/he is running all over Hollywood paying top dollar not to be named….which, it must be said, is money well spent.

This is dancer Julianne Hough off Dancing with the Stars wearing Jenny Packham.

Where is the lining? Tits and crotch = tacky.  The End.

Our next fashion victim is Mad Men actress Jessica Paré wearing Oscar de la Renta.

WTF is going on with that bodice? It looks as if a couple of gutters have been sewn together. Is this in case Jessica’s cups runneth over? Horrid. Oh, and the dress is creased….

You can always count on Lena Dunham and Zosia Mamet to look shocking and they did. First we have Lena wearing Prada.

There is a boudoir somewhere missing its drapes and Lena looks like a rose-strewn barrage balloon, only braless. And it is also too long because it was designed for someone taller than 5′ 3″. Nor does it  improve from the rear…

What is the point of wearing a couture frock with houses tattooed on your back?  It is baffling. WTF is baffled.

Zosia was no better, wearing a dress by New York designer Honor.

Again, the dress is too long but it would have been pretty were it not for the leather stick-on tits. @mrwestie58 remarked that they looked like a blindfold on someone facing a firing squad whilst @1st_of_Seven enquired why nipples need sunglasses. WTF respectfully agrees with both comments and notes that Blues Brothers tits are not flattering whether on or off an evening gown.

And here is a horror from the HBO After-Party, featuring Entourage actress Emmanuelle Chriqui in leather and lace.

I mean, why? Meanwhile that swirly set is a health hazard.

WTF has been a TOWIE-nonentities-free-zone for ages and now they have been featured in consecutive weeks. Last week it was Dannii Park-Dempsey and Lauren Pope and this week it is one of its former “stars” Amy Childs promoting her new tanning range.

 Sigh. Amy has dressed up as The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy from Company B. What it has to do with tanning, WTF cannot say but she can say that this is definitely Minge Moment of the Week. EEK. And thrice EEK.

Oh no, it’s Miley Cyrus. Again.

As WTF tweeted last weekend (@WTF_EEK) Miley is dressed as a sheep in tarts’ clothing. The poor girl must be awfully tired with her tongue always hanging out and her incessant winking and her constant crotch-grabbing, not to mention all that twisting and twerking and dwarf-molestation. She seems to be in the grip of a particularly virulent strain of St Vitus’ Dance. WTF is no fan of Kelly Osbourne  but could not agree more with her recent advice to her friend – “put your fucking tongue back in your mouth”. Well said, that woman….

OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good and keep the comments flowing x