THE SKIRT

I have been minding my own business all morning and up until now it has been going well. I've undertaken various minor chores on the high street, and ticked them off my list of things to do with pleasure and aplomb. The sun is shining, the bees are buzzing, and all is well with the world.

Until I see her.

Just there, up ahead - a larger lady maybe thirty feet ahead of me, carrying a plastic bag, and mopping her brow as the sun beats down. Perhaps she too has been undertaking minor chores on the high street and ticking them off her own list of things to do. Perhaps she too has gleaned a certain self-satisfaction from minding her own business all morning, as the sun shone, and the bees buzzed, and all seemed well with the world.

But she does not know. She cannot see what I can see. And I have seen too much.

I panic, and start to look around to see if anyone else has noticed ... perhaps if they have, we can share this burden and divide this responsibility.

But no one has. Only I have noticed. Only I have seen that this larger lady up ahead of me - this larger lady with her plastic bag and her sweaty brow - is exposing parts of her she really can't have realised she's exposing.

Her skirt's all hitched up! I think, breaking into a sweat of my own. Someone has to tell her that her skirt's all hitched up!

I do not know what has led to this lady's tricky predicament - there is no wind and I can't imagine this is now the fashion for larger ladies - and I remain the only person who seems to have noticed. But what can I do? Is a man allowed to comment on something like this? What if she thinks me a pervert? What if she thinks I somehow hitched her skirt up from a distance of thirty feet?

There is only one thing to do. I dial my wife.

'Quick, you have to help me!' I say. 'There is a lady up ahead of me whose skirt's all hitched up!'

There is a moment's silence and I wonder if I'm about to get told off for noticing a lady's hitched-up skirt.

'Remain calm,' says my wife, finally. 'How hitched up is it?'

'It's fairly hitched up,' I say. 'I'm not sure about the percentages.'

'OK,' she says. 'You're going to have to say something.'

'What? No! Can't you say something?'

'I'm not there,' she says.

I look around and she is right. She is miles away.

'Can't I just ignore it?' I say. 'I mean, I've told you - maybe that's enough?'

'Has anyone else noticed?' she says.