Dear Skanky Girl I Saw In Holborn On Saturday Night,
Oh, sweet mother of god. That's it. You've done it. You've won the prize.
You are, without a doubt, the owner of the skankiest outfit I've ever seen. And that's saying an awful lot.
I'm trying to find the good points, so that I can give you a vague, halfhearted compliment before insulting you, but I can't. Okay, your t-shirt was fine. Plain white t-shirt. That's okay.
But the short shorts?
With knee high boots?
Are you kidding me?
Maybe you just saw "Dukes of Hazzard". Maybe you're all inspired by Jessica Simpson and decided that fake tanning yourself to a frightening orange hue wasn't the way forward for you. But the Daisy Dukes with knee high boots?
Are you a hooker?
If you are, then that's okay. I can see that working. Because it's skanky and hookers are supposed to be skanky. That's okay.
Dear lord, it was just awful. I'm very sad for you right now.
I don't even have words of advice. Just stop. That's all. Just stop.