A few weeks ago, I did the perfectly normal and equally perfectly annoying thing of leaving a tissue in my trousers pocket when I put them in the washing machine.
I swear I checked every pocket in advance, but a tissue managed to escape by hiding somewhere and only emerging when the water started squiring into the drum of the machine.
Four pairs of smart work trousers (that's all of them) covered in little white dots.
I had a moan on social media and someone recommended vinegar, so I did a vinegar rinse.
Alas, no difference; so I hung them all up and hoped the pesky white fluff would drop off.
Eventually last night I gave in, and with a combination of sellotape, lint rollers and an unusual (for me) amount of patience, I managed to make three pairs of trousers relatively presentable.
Alas, the fourth pair was impossible to clean.
I tried an old ruse of putting them in the drier, but they came out even worse, seemingly managing to retrieve two entire quarter-tissue shreds during the process, plus a provocatively even spread of even more white tissue dots.
I resorted to the hoover.
Flat on the floor, I sucked up one trouser leg after the other and managed to cover a smart pair of black trousers with streaks of grey dust to add to the little white dots of fluffy tissue that clung to their fibres with admirable persistence.
Now I have flung them over the back of a chair in disgrace.
Tomorrow, I'll wear them in understanding company as a gesture of defiance against smartness, having learned the lesson that it's Simply Not Worth It.