Emergency alerts have been issued for those in the Aintree Racecourse area of Liverpool, England.
Men, women, children, and the elderly and infirm in particular, have been warned of a potential fashion fallout occurring that may cause irreparable damage to their corneas and/or mental stability.
If you are approached by anyone wearing a taffeta shirt with an extensively frilled frou frou low plunging neckline, high waisted cream shorts with gold sailor buttons and a yakkety gag inducing camel toe, run as fast as you can possibly move with your eyes closed.
Alex Curran is on the loose, armed with an eighties bouffant hair-don’t.
Do not approach her, nor attempt conversation. Do not try to be a hero. Just call the authorities, who will promptly remove her fashion decision making privileges and confiscate her Marc Jacobs Stam handbag to give to a more worthy individual.
Side note: if you like a little irony with your morning coffee, how’s this? Alex was one of the judges (along with Sheree Murphy) for the Best Dressed Lady contest.
Sherree Murphy, Nicola Carragher, Justine Mills (owner of designer boutique Cricket), Coleen McLoughlin, Alex Curran and Abi Clancy
Justine: Listen up bitches, I don’t want any of these clothes returned to the shop with beer, lipstick or other unidentified stains on them. I’m looking at you, Clancy.
Abi: Whatever, Justine. I’m skinnier than you and fabulously happy. Look how fabulously happy I look.
Alex: I’m the fabulously happy star here. I know it. You know it. Even with my bloated carb face, I am the queen. No one else can wear an aubergine set of drapes like this.
Sheree: Stop fighting girls, this is Coleen’s night.
Alex: Oh, go back to your typist job at Manpower, Sheree. This is a party, not a gathering around the water cooler.
Sheree: I’m wearing Chloe, darling, which trumps your Philip Armstrong fabric concoction. By the way, have you seen my husband’s bottom? It’s like a peach, I promise you.
Alex: Stop touching me Abi. Stop trying to push your way into the picture.
Abi: I wouldn’t have to touch you if you’d give me a little space. Stop bogarting the pose.
Alex: I swear, if I had hands, I would scratch your eyes out.
Justine: Speaking of hands Nicola, yours are making me uncomfortable.
Coleen: I would kill for a cheeseburger. Maybe I can get Wayne to make a run to Mickey-D’s.
God, we love this kid.
At what point do you think he’ll realise it’s his mother courting the paparazzi? Here’s a clue, Brooklyn: she’s wearing insane boots and no bra. Good luck, kiddo.