Tory Totty

It is a general rule that conservative female politicians are better-looking than their liberal socialist counterparts, e.g. Nikki Haley vs. Hillary Clinton, and don’t even get me started on the topic of Maxine Waters or Sheila Jackson-Lee.  (No pics;  I expect you guys will want to eat at some point today.)

Anyway:  over in Britishland, they’re going through all sorts of Brexit contortions, which I’ve been watching with an air of morbid fascination — I mean, how difficult could it be to tell a bunch of Huns, Frogs and Belgies to fuck off? — when I saw that BritPM Theresa May (or “May Not”, when it comes to Brexit, don’t ask) is getting stick from various of her more-conservative Brexiteer Cabinet members.

Specifically, from one Esther McVey, who is Minister of Something Unimportant.  Now, I have no idea of Ms. McVey’s politics (safe bet:  center-left Democrat, in U.S. terms), but she has other umm attributes which make her memorable:

Given that she’s in her early 50s, that’s not a bad look.  However, at a younger age, she was quite something:

She’s several steps up from any of the Labour Party crones, e.g. Harriet Harperson or Dianne Abbott (once again, no pics for reasons of public health).

And by the way, Our Esther has a law degree, as well as an M.Sc. and an M.A., and has an extensive resume both in the Meejah and in the corporate world, unlike the ugly Labour drones who, like our local crop of chick Socialists, have simply been community organizers and slimeball politicians all their ugly lives.

So I hereby anoint Esther McVey as Prime Tory Totty.  I trust this meets with everyone’s approval.

Fan Support: The Rest

We conclude this scholarly study of international fan support of football (soccer) teams with a quick glimpse at the world outside the Americas and Europe, starting with the Far East:

And next door:

Meanwhile in (South) Africa:

Although it should be said that in Seffrica, as in the U.S., there’s more support for the oval ball:

While the same is true Down Under:

Then there are the Turkettes:

And speaking of Muslim assholes, let’s give some special appreciation to the ladies from Iran who support their national team.  Even though they are pretty much banned from watching the matches in Iran because Islam, they can support their team in away matches:

Although it should also be known that if they wore those same outfits in Teheran, they’d be stoned to death as whores.

One wonders what the ayatollahs would think of this Muslim creature from Albania:

In Iran or Saudi Arabia, she’d be stoned to death;  here in the U.S. of A., she’d be offered a modeling contract.  Which system is better?  I report, you decide.

Fan Support: The Other Europe

Continuing with the “countries recently invaded by Germany” theme, we have the lady supporters of Eastern European football, starting (as did the Germans) with Poland:

A little south, we have Croatia:

Which is next door to Serbia:

And then there are their Slavic cousins, Russia:

To the surprise of probably no-one, it was discovered that Russia’s most-photographed female fan (above) is a porno actress in real life (not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course — anyone can support their country, and should).

And to end this segment of female fan support, we have Greece, a country nominally in Western Europe, but geographically south of Poland, so there:

We’ll wrap up this series, so to speak, next week with a look at the rest of the world.  As always, feel free to vote for your favorite(s) in Comments.

Fan Support: Over There

Last week we studied the fan support of football in the Western Hemisphere, so now we’ll cross the Atlantic, starting with mid-Atlantic Iceland:

I know these ladies are somewhat more demure than the average we’ve seen up till now, but let’s not forget that it gets kinda chilly in Iceland.  Staying with the Scandinavian types, there are the original Vikings in Denmark:

…followed by Sweden:

I know Swedes all speak English, and there’s proof.  Anyway, let’s move a little south:

And across the border:

Over the Pyrenees mountains:

While over the Channel, we have the English roses:

[insert]  Longtime Friend and Reader TrueBrit sends me the following, to highlight England’s winning spirit (and if it makes you giggle, you’re not alone):

Back over in Euroland, there are the Low Countries (Belgium and Holland respectively), who despite their diminutive size, always seem to punch well above their weight class, so to speak:

And lurking just over the Rhine, the Old Enemy (in so many ways):

…and their cousins-in-crime, Austria:

But let’s not talk about The War.  The Swiss were neutral, in any case:

Moving south, there’s the confusingly-named Azzuri (despite having national colors of green, white and red, Italy plays in sky-blue jerseys because Italy):

Okay, you can all stop panting now, and vote for your favorites in Comments.  In two weeks’ time:  Eastern Europe.

Fan Support: The Americas

Today we will study the lengths to which people will support their home team.  By “people”, of course, I mean “ladies” and by “support” I mean “showing up at a football stadium wearing your national team’s colors, more or less”.  Let’s start off with the South Americans, because one has to start somewhere:

One would imagine that Brazil does just as well in this department, and one would be right:

But those are large, populous countries so one would expect a high level of tottie-ness.  What about the smaller South American ones?  Let’s start with Ecuador:

…and then Paraguay:




And let’s not forget tiny Honduras:

I know, Honduras is technically in Central America — which brings me on to Mexico:

If I may channel Top Gear‘s Jeremy Clarkson for a moment, that does not look like yer typical Mexican housemaid as found in the U.S.A., does it?  And speaking of El Norte, we have:

…but frankly, I think we save our best for the other kind of football:

…and especially at the college level:

Next week, we’ll cross the Atlantic to resume our study.  Oh, and feel free to vote for your favorite fan(s) in Comments.


I can’t believe that Monica Bellucci is 53.  (Of course, to an old codger like me, everyone younger than I looks 15 years old, especially with my crap eyesight.)  But back to Miss Bellucci.  Here’s a recent pic:

…and a close-up:

I’m suspecting some kind of Faustian deal here.  For comparison purposes only [coff coff], here are pics of a somewhat earlier vintage:

The sands of time seem to have treated this particular hourglass extraordinarily well.