First thought: pink meringue explosion. Second thought: Jordan wore a frock more tasteful when she married Whatshisface. Third thought: I cannot go out in this monstrosity, it’ll end my career.

‘Put it on. Or else.’

‘Or else what?’

Why would Tasha want me to be seen in this dress-shaped catastrophe?

‘Or else you call Marc to tell him the wedding’s off.’

Take that, Little Ms Hotshot Designer, Tasha smirks at me.

She thinks she’s got me. I tear the frills off the eyesore and wear it inside out.

Reputation rescued.

Tasha’s eyes flare up. I’ve ruined her night.

Added bonus.