Temple of Doom

Tonight we took Elliot to Oxford Circus Topshop. He let us know what he thought of the four storey fashion temple through the medium of vomit and screaming. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and headed straight to the eyebrow bar in terror, while Tom tried to calm Elliot down in the cafe much to the amusement of various waifs in denim hotpants and oversized cardigans. When I returned neither of them looked like they would come out alive. Only after a pie and some boobie were we all ready to fight our way back through the lace bodysuits and leather skirts to the exit.

At least I now have two eyebrows instead of one.