No news today

"Is this all we have to worry about?", FMOAK asks with regard to yet another embarrassing grand moment of British politics, aka Jaquigate.

Now, the home secretary's private porn collection really leaves me stone dead unaroused ("Jaqui Smith on a cold day" is just as effective as "Margaret Thatcher on a cold day" in toning down the effects of erotic excitation); however, I had a similar sense of flabbergastedness (flabbergastion?) as Peter Ryley when I read this here fashion jeremiad in today's Guardian.

The private quandary of disturbing dimensions around which the article revolves:

Wearing hijab is about more than throwing on a headscarf. It means committing to a broader dress code - for me clothing needs to cover everything but the hands and face, and be loose enough to hide my body shape. Since I like to shop on the high street, that's a bit of a tall order. Few among Topshop, H&M, Dorothy Perkins, Zara and Miss Selfridge can meet my needs in one or two garments. Fashions come and go, but I am committed to a life of layering.

I guess you can reproach Western high street fashion for a lot of things: collective tastelessness, non-sustainability, exploitation. But not catering to an individual shopper's personal religious convictions?

I mean let's face it: you don't order hosts in McDonald's, do you, and then complain when all they offer you is a McMuffin?