Ye gods! THERE’S pink! I don’t know what the hell this dame’s wearing on her head – Carpet? Futon? Concealed slave? – but she looks, if I may be so bold, like a complete tit! Ostentatious, to say the very least!

And yet, whilst reaching for the sick bucket, there’s a part of me that rather admires such blatant ostentation, such utter disregard for anyone else’s views, such total conviction that she looks a million dollars. The matching tie sported by her Undertaker/husband/gangster friend is just too too outré, Darlings! Decidedly labial, the whole revolting ensemble!

If you’ve got it, flaunt it,  they say! Whether it be tasteless images painted upon sagging boobs, or mutton parading around in designer lamb, or those repellent fascinators (which do anything but and perch on the wearer’s head like seedy parokeets), there is nothing quite like the Art of Pretentious Appearance to make the self-satisfied and obscenely wealthy person’s heart glad and head swell with specious pride!

Looking in certain glossy magazines, and seeing the ostentatious display of the Upper Class Peacocks –  those with more money than sense and the sartorial awareness of a decomposing ferret – leads us into a new and dreadful world.

Call me a spoil-sport, but why would anyone in their right mind want to emerge from a plane and walk down the steps wearing a titfer so vulgar, so garish, so reminiscent of a magic carpet shop in an Arabian souk?

No. I think talent and beauty shine through without all this mesmerisingly ghastly display of parboiled materials (in various shades of baby sick and other effluvia) draped upon the often blue-blooded (and therefore riddled with all the stains close cousin marriage brings) bodies of the elite.



21 thoughts on “Ostentatious!

  1. Ah but I think you may be mistaken here. In fact this a picture of Mr and Mrs Fantastic, entertainers to the great unwashed since 1936. Mr Fantastic’s fame came from the ability to ride a magic carpet, complete with Arabian tamed cobras wearing nothing but a pair of sequinned silver speedos and riding a unicycle, up the rear of his first wife Desdimona and into a double somersault all the while eating a fried egg sandwich and singing abide with me. The tragic event in Blackpool 1949 which led to the demise of Mrs Fantastic and landed him in the local crown court are spoken of only in hushed whispers even today. I believe he married his current wife in 1974 but due a court restraining order place upon him in 1949 he is forbidden to carry a carpet, magic or otherwise in public. Thus the current Mrs Fantastic is the bearer of the magical accessory and carries it Persian style to all public engagements (this one was Milton on the Wold village fair in May 2014). As Mr Fantastic is now 107 I believe he no longer eats the fried egg sandwich during the feat.

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