John Gibson: Mary, don’t wear these troosers!

I STAY with Mary Portas on the fashion pages, keep checking what she’s up to. Shoots from the hip and she has just opened a shop bearing her name in the Oxford Street House of Fraser.

The makings of a Channel 4 series come October we are all bound to watch.

Mary, sweet, if you do likewise in the Princes Street Frasers – and, Lord knows, it could use all the help it can get – do us a favour and promise not to wear those skin-tight leather trousers.

Tub thumper

Should mothers be allowed to drag their screaming brats into restaurants mid-evening, thereby sabotaging the scoff for civilised diners?

Shouldn’t they have their bums skelped? Not the screeching, table-thumping brats – the mothers.

There should be a law against this outrage and, as I write and reel from one such performance in a city centre eaterie, the mother oblivious to the tables around her, legislation is being considered at the latest session of the Scottish Parliament (where they are accustomed to screaming and table-thumping).

Grim with Gail

She’s back. Back where she belongs with the latest chapter of her never-ending saga. Gail Porter, Portobello High’s most-publicised former pupil, has returned to her London home from Thailand where a specialist clinic helped dilute her depression.

I’ve just been on antidepressants myself. A humiliating disaster at Kilmarnock on Sunday hasn’t silenced these wee motorbikes buzzing in my noddle.

Gail, you’re not alone. Do the tablets really work?