I was getting ready for bed the other night and I commented to Liz, that my fine masculine leg hair felt really peculiar in two stripes across the rear of my thighs. She looks at me over the top of her book and says, “Oh.” I stare at her with a querulous look on my face and she says, “I might know something about that.”

Turns out she’s been getting annoyed by the state of ‘the boys’ toilet upstairs, which is used pretty much exclusively by me and Jack. So one morning she put raw bleach on the toilet seat - and forgot to wash it off. So when I paid that loo a visit for a read of my new copy of Empire, I sat right on the raw bleach, which killed the hair in a bog-seat shaped swathe across the rear of my legs.

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