Picking up the older mini-W from school earlier today, I asked her whether she liked my new jeans, purchased in a central London Gap store a few hours earlier.
"No," she replied. "You still have the label on."
My panic was immediate and my reflexes were quick. The offending item was removed just a split second before a mother came up and started making conversation.
It was actually one of those transparent, sticky strips that reveals your waist and inside leg measurements. They'd hidden the b****rd thing just out of my line of sight round the back of my right thigh.
"No," she replied. "You still have the label on."
My panic was immediate and my reflexes were quick. The offending item was removed just a split second before a mother came up and started making conversation.
It was actually one of those transparent, sticky strips that reveals your waist and inside leg measurements. They'd hidden the b****rd thing just out of my line of sight round the back of my right thigh.
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