Imagine this for a moment. Go on. Close your eyes and imagine it's Friday night. You've had a mammoth work-week; you've only just managed to get out of the office at 8pm and you're finally on your way home.

The Northern Line rattles down to Tooting Bec, you trudge off the train and up the stairs to street level, feet aching from a day in four inch heels.
Ok, so enough about you, this next part is all me.
I tottered across the busy intersection to the bus stop on the opposite side of the road, and found that my bus, the 249, was already coming to a halt at the bus stop, 100 metres from where I was standing.
Clutching my handbag tightly to my side, I jogged awkwardly along the footpath, pleading eyes focussed on the back of the bus, and the lucky bastards already seated inside.
This was a bad idea.
My stiletto heel lodged between two of those lovely London cobblestones, stripping my left foot of its shoe, leaving it naked in my descent.
Hands wrapped around the straps of my handbag, my knees made first contact with concrete, and my chest followed, with a slow hand getting involved a little late.
With legs lifted high in the air through momentum, my chin had nowhere to go but down. And so, it was with my newly disfigured face that I limped onto the bus and off to Her Majesty's Theatre to see, quite ironically, the Phantom of the Opera.
What everyone's talking about in London this week
The dodgy MP expenses leaked online for everyone to see – one guy claimed 39p for a paperclip. I didn't realise they were so pricey!
Transformers ll and Bruno premiered in the capital this week, followed by photos of Megan Fox's thighs and Sacha Baron Cohen's butt-cheeks all over the papers.