The Things My Brain Thinks in Tesco… Honestly, I Shouldn't Be Allowed Out Alone!

I was standing in the supermarket yesterday, completely minding my own business, when I spotted a woman with immaculate hair, perfect nails and a handbag that probably costs more than my washing machine, and my brain immediately wondered whether she’d ever had to peel a sanitary towel off her own bum because the wings had somehow attached themselves to the wrong bit. I mean, surely she has? Surely even the most sophisticated women occasionally sneeze while having a wee, inspect their knickers like a forensic scientist or discover that one boob has escaped its bra halfway round Tesco? And then I started wondering whether the Queen consort ever had to deal with a rogue pubic hair poking through her swimming costume, which is an absolutely outrageous thought to have beside the frozen peas, but now I’m imagining royal ladies-in-waiting discreetly conducting bikini-line inspections before state occasions, and I’m trying so hard not to laugh that the woman thinks I’m smiling at her. So naturally I smile even harder, like a complete lunatic, while internally screaming, Madam, I have just mentally undressed the entire British aristocracy and nobody must ever know.