I’m not hip. I live in jeans, riding boots and whatever top needs least ironing when I get dressed. This is a by-product of parenthood and nothing to do with disinterest; I know what the cool kids are wearing, I just don’t think any of it would look good draped over a ketone-swilling, stretch mark-ridden 33 year-old.

Living on the doorstep of a secondary school, I see more than my fair share of teenage girls. School uniforms haven’t changed much - except we wore platforms and they seem to favour brogues, and their skirts flare out more at the hips (although are no less short!). The sixth formers however have swapped the late 90s garb for something far more radical. Whereas we lived in whatever River Island spun out that year, internet retailers have transformed the way our children style themselves.

Most of it passes me by easily enough - some of it I even make a mental note of (if I could find a non-lycra version in size 16… ) - but these super short loose-cuff hotpants really grind my gears.

I don’t mind short - I rolled up my school skirt like every other kid at school - and I’m not fazed by the odd flash of bum cheek either. When I had a killer body in the 90s, I slipped on the odd outfit that made my mum cringe. Bums, tums and boobs are one thing, flashing your labia is another entirely.

On a routine trip to Sainsbury’s last week, I saw something that scared the living hell out of me. It made my ovaries clench even tighter than Hilary Clinton’s dental work. I saw a young girl, no older than 16, with shorts that even Jodie Marsh back in her hey-day would have passed up. I’m assuming they were worn backwards or stretched to hell, as these flashed parts of this girl that only her gynaecologist should see. The absence of knickers was even more frightening.

The worst part? Her own mother appeared to be shopping with her. I mean, what the actual hell?? If a teenage Heidi trudged down the stairs in something that indecent, I’d be up in her wardrobe faster than a tramp on chips.

This girl was literally floating past the fruit and veg aisle, fingering wares and chatting ostensibly with her mum, whilst showing teenage lads, dads and grannies her bits. This wasn’t a wardrobe malfunction, her mother seriously needs a head wobble and a social worker.

I could go on all day about this, but to what end?

In all seriousness, I just urge parents everywhere to give even the most cursory glance at your teen before they stage-left your home. I’m all for freedom of expression, even sexual expression, and I don’t shock easily - but this… this was something else.