Hallo Readers,
To everyone’s amazement, Engerland made it through a penalty shootout to the Quarter Finals of the World Cup, and will face Sweden tomorrow afternoon. We are all very excited, apart, that is, from the Scots, the Irish and the Welsh, nearly all of whom seem to hate us consumedly, and who, as WTF’s late (Russian) granny was wont to remark, would happily drown us in a thimbleful of water. Those who voted Leave, for reasons WTF has trouble grasping, consider that anyone who wants to Remain is a hypocrite and cannot simultaneously be patriotic and pro-European. Or something. Mind you, these are the same people who referred to dissident Tory MPs and Judges administering the law of the land as ‘enemies of the people’ and who believed that our path to Brexit would be strewn with roses and desperate Europeans offering us whatever terms we demanded, so what do they know?
No one would want to praise Putin for anything, unless named Donald J Trump, but this World Cup has been stonking. A country ruled by a autocrat with a penchant for punishing perceived transgressors means that riotous behaviour is frowned upon and almost all of our knuckle-dragging, one-braincell, supporters realised that a chair through a café window or a punchup would be a bad idea. In Russia, such conduct would not be a matter of being expelled and arriving back in Blighty with a blanket over your head, shouting incomprehensibly about wrongful arrest, but more a case of having the shit beaten out of you by large gentlemen with gimlet expressions and bulging biceps, before being shipped off to Siberia for a penalty spot of forced labour. Some pillock whose father was an equerry to the Queen Mother got thrown out for defacing a statue but otherwise it has been relatively peaceful, allowing us to concentrate upon the football and, more importantly, the shocking hairstyles and amateur dramatics of the players. So here are the WTF Footie Awards 2018:
Worst hair – Domagoj Vida of Croatia. I mean, look at him. Shaven at the sides and a rat’s tail waving at the top of his head. There was some hot competition for this award, not least from the Japanese who had overdone it with the ginger highlights, and most South Americans who had picked up a bottle of toilet bleach and poured it over their heads with no consideration of the consequences.
Best suburban bank manager imitation – it is of course our own Gareth Southgate, who, despite boiling temperatures, insists upon dressing in a three piece Marks and Spencer suit as if he were off to work on the 8 05 from Surbiton, although he does remove the jacket at the dugout. He is a nice man, bless him, but he needs to take a size up.
Worst-dressed WAG – Annie Kilner (in the red, 2nd from the right). Annie, mother of three and girlfriend of Kyle Walker, absolutely nailed it in this clinging red jumpsuit with full cameltoe, a peekaboo midriff and hair like Morticia Adams. Klassy.
Most up-her-own-arse award – Rebekah Vardy (above, far left). Becky, married to Leicester striker Jamie Vardy, let it be known that she feels the term ‘WAG’ is inappropriate, explaining ‘WAG is a dated term because we’re not defined by what our husbands do. We’re individuals.’ Becky was of course an international superstar before she married Jamie. Oh hang on……
Best actor – There was of course, only one winner, Brazilian superstar Neymar. He is a sublime player, but he also behaves like a Grade A prick, rolling across the field as if shot from a cannon, writhing in agony and twisting into shapes that would not be attempted by an acrobatic dolphin and generally simulating injury in a way that makes you wish that someone would tread on his goolies just to teach him a lesson. Stand up, man, and get on with the game.
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Let us now turn to the fashion feculence of the week, starting with Karen Pence, Second Lady of the US, seen with horrible husband Mike.
More women in the US look like Karen than like Melania, whose face and body are more plastic than a stockroom of Barbies. However, Karen is small, short-limbed and big-busted, and so it was inadvisable to squeeze her embonpoint into a pink bandage, like a 1920s flapper trying – and failing – to flatten her breasts.
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Those supposed slimming black panels down the side are betrayed by the belt. Memo to Karen. Belts accentuate a waist. They do not give you a waist if you do not have a waist to start with. And even if you do, it is not located two inches underneath your bosom.
Three from the Logie TV Awards on Australia’s Gold Coast. First, TV journalist Leila McKinnon wearing Constantina Danis.
Leila is dressed as a human disco ball and the hair is worthy of any Brazilian player.
Next, we have Australian Ninja warrior and TV personality Jack Wilson, wearing not nearly enough.
Jack is more than entitled to celebrate his Aboriginal and Torres Island heritage, but walking the Red Carpet in budgie-smugglers, socks and sneakers is not the necessarily best way to do it. The whole point of smuggling is that people are not suppose to spot what it is you are smuggling. In Jack’s case, this is not so much a case of budgie-smuggling as budgie-liberating and the birdie is about to soar up and away.
And third, we have English singer Jess Glynne wearing ridiculous trewsies.
Jess is wearing leather trousers with a denim codpiece, doubtless inspired by Henry VIII.
To New York and actress Amy Adams wearing Stella McCartney at the premiere of her new movie Sharp Objects.
WTF has long held the view that Stella McCartney is taking the piss and here is further proof, not that proof were needed. The jacket does not fit, the trousers are an accident waiting to happen, and the bra, which is hideous, is (a) on show and (b) costs $160.
Next, model and presenter Heidi Klum out and about in New York, wearing something silly.
Ever one for multi-tasking, Heidi’s leggings perform the dual function of giving you thrush and an embolism, with the added bonus of leaving a lovely criss-cross pattern on your limbs, like the scoring on a joint of pork.
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Finally, celebritee Kim Kardashian, wearing husband Kanye West’s line Yeezy.
Credit to Kim for her loyalty to her spouse, but this is just crotch couture, Pussy in Boots. Why does she have a fanny-pack slung across her chest? And much worse awaits. Ready? You won’t be…..
Lycra cycling shorts worn with Musketeer suede boots.. Has she stuffed a couple of footballs down there? Yurgle.
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF from Islington who is spitting feathers about horrendous professional Scouser, Esther McVey, still Secretary of State for Work and Pensions despite telling a blatant lie to the House of Commons.
McScouse told Parliament that a damning report from the National Audit Office about her flagship policy, Universal Credit, was based on out of date figures, despite her own department having signed off the very figures in the report. She refused to meet the NAO to discuss this porky, and so its splendidly named chief, Sir Amyas Morse, published his highly critical letter to her for all to see. Once upon a time, the lie would have ended her career, but this is 2018 and Ministers can now lie with impunity, as long as they sneak an insincere apology onto the record as soon as the shit hits the fan. The death of shame continues. She’s Got to Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Keep sending in your top comments and your excellent suggestions for It’s Got To Go. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x