Panem Capitol’s Big Night Out

Of all society events on the calendar, the gatherings of the worthy and the parades of our betters, the Met Gala is the bestest. Why, you may ask?

Well, simply put, it allows us to identify the biggest hoofwanking spunk trumpets in existence so we can point at them and laugh once a year. Above even the Oscars, this is the ultimate collection of meat puppets and twats who are as much use to society as a drum kit was to Anne Frank.

Once a year, they gather for the self-described “fashion’s biggest night” to raise funds for the benefit of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute in Manhattan, New York. Now known as The Anna Wintour Costume Center, in a shiny new wing of the museum opened by First Lady Michelle Obama in 2014, it is not even open to the public.

What the actual fuck is a “La La Anthony”?

The center is named after Anna Wintour, the longtime editor-in-chief of Vogue, Chief Content Officer of Condé Nast, and chair of the Met Gala whose purpose on this planet is hard to ascertain.

Individual tickets cost $75,000, while entire tables cost $350,000. The price of a small family home to be surrounded by peacocking fucktards. Every year, this event throws up some belters, and if you have been an Outposter for a while, you will know that every year we come together to take much amusement from the absolute state of them.

This year’s red carpet was bought to you by eBay and Porsche, which is so terribly vulgar but also amusing that they don’t realize it. The theme was “Sleeping Beauties, Reawakening Fashion” which means absolutely fuck all.

So let’s take a look at the prick parade’s greatest hits this year, fresh from the exhibition of idiots.