Ignore those veiled threats – and wear what you like
Regular readers will know I'm not one to name-drop (See Weekend passim), but I was chatting to the Prime Minister the other day, in Downing Street no less.
Me, from the boggest of bogstandard comprehensives, exchanging pleasantries with Eton toff Dave over the best mini cottage pies the taxpayer can buy.
True, we didn't see eye-to-eye over one or two issues, and a casual observer would have probably detected this despite our mutual politeness and parting handshakes.
I was in a French Connection suit off the peg, the PM in something more expensive, off the scale.
I only mention this because, unlike my whistle and flute, what you wear is in vogue this week.
And apparently, it's important.
The next evening, I found myself slouching around the house in a Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine 30-Something tour shirt, some 10-year-old jeans and official Preston North End slippers, from t' club shop.
An ensemble which would qualify as 'vintage' if this were a posher paper. The reality is it's all old, comfy and with just enough stitching left so as not to scare the neighbours.
Who knows what Dave had retired in at that very moment, 24 hours on? An ironic Lord Snooty sweatshirt? A Tom Ford robe? Maggie Thatcher jim-jams?
Who cares? We were both off-duty so it's up to us.
Stand on any street corner for 10 minutes and just see the clothes people have on. If you can avoid being arrested for voyeurism/slapped for staring, I confidently predict no two will walk past wearing the same.
Even in mass gatherings like football crowds, you'll be pushed to find fans in exactly the same gear (there's your retro shirt crowd, the latest kit mob and the bargain basement 'last-season-look' gang).
None of it offends me; you pays your money and takes your choice. There are styles I don't like; crop tops on larger ladies, snap-back caps, vests, anything with a 'comedy' slogan on it, girls with dragon tattoos.
But that's just me.
When I was a kid, I often wore a full-face balaclava and combat jacket on my freezing morning paper round. I looked like a little bank robber armed with a Daily Mail, but no-one batted an eyelid.
And so to the veil.
A judge has said a defendant must remove her veil when giving evidence in court. Quite right too.
Common sense says airports and places you need to be identified should also be able to temporarily ask people to show their faces, including driving tests and college exams.
But Nick Clegg says it is not 'appropriate' for students to wear a full veil in the day-to-day classes.
Really? No sniggering at the back, but when was the last time he looked into a college lecture?
Imagine a world where students have to have their clothing approved by politicians. Especially Lib Dem politicians; Arran sweaters a must, Regatta rainwear de rigeur, slacks and sandals essential.
Offended by that generalisation? Then take comfort that you share something with Muslim women.
Why should different rules apply to them?
If they want to wear the niqab in class, they've got just as much right as the girl with the dragon tattoo.
Or the boy in the Beatles T-shirt. Or the muffin-and-crop-topped lady in the high street. Security issues apart, what business is it of mine, yours or anyone else's what people choose to wear in their daily lives?
Answers on a postcard.
So if you want to wear a robe and cover your face for religious reasons then go ahead sisters.
What liberal could argue with that?
I suppose we'll only find out if the Ku Klux Klan ever hit town.