SPARE a thought for Dr David Bull who discovered last week that there is not a direct train from Ipswich to the EU Parliament in Strasbourg.

The Brexit Party MEP shared a rant-filled video in which he bemoaned having to criss-cross London and then Paris, catching four trains to reach his destination at France's eastern border, while bleating: "For some reason the parliament seems to be in a very inaccessible place."

Err, did you not check that out before you took the job, Dave? Perhaps look at a train timetable, or even better, a map? Even the barest semblance of planning and you could have found several faster routes rather than behaving like a gap year student with an Interrail pass.

Yet, this was merely the first in a series of vignettes I would like to title "Bull By Name, Bull By Nature" as our intrepid traveller posted on social media about his first impressions of the parliament like a giddy child on a school trip followed by some half-baked fighting talk about political ambitions.

Almost as cringeworthy was the shaky camera work that induced a level of motion sickness not experienced since the fateful day I went on the waltzers seven times in a row and then swiftly vomited on a flattened patch of grass between the dodgems and hook-a-duck stall.

I await with bated breath the next instalment when our hapless hero realises that they don't serve what the Brexit Party would no doubt call "proper British food" in the canteen.

Cue disgruntled footage as a scruffy hold-all is duly packed with a family-sized bottle of Heinz tomato ketchup, a jar of Marmite and a box of Tetley tea bags every time Dr Bull crosses the Channel.

Nylon nightmares

I CAN'T stop thinking about the fact that Gucci is hawking an £1,800 shell suit. Or as it is being peddled on the designer brand's website: "Crafted in lightweight nylon, the shell suit evolves from its late-80s and early-90s origins and is reimagined into contemporary designs."

Back in the day, you could get two for £15 from Bathgate market. Which was just as well because only minutes into my debut shell suit-clad outing circa 1988, I tripped over a trailing lace from my Reebok high-tops and put a knee out the trousers.

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My mum had to whip out her sewing kit and cover the gaping tear in the fabric with an embroidered patch depicting a lasagne-guzzling Garfield which somewhat ruined the effortless cool vibe I was going for.

Shell suits were eventually banned at my school with the explanation that the highly flammable nature of the nylon material and the Bunsen burners in the science lab were a far from an ideal combination.

At least, that's what they told us. Imagine being a teacher faced with a classroom filled with rows of gangly adolescents wearing garish shell suits? The incessant rustling of the material alone would be enough to send you stark raving mad.

Face on a case

THERE comes a moment in all our lives when we realise that we're no longer down with the kids. For me that watershed happened at a wedding a few years ago when I mentioned to one of the fellow bridesmaids – who was in her teens – that we should all "have a boogie" later.

Her pained eye roll accompanied by a grimace so hard I feared her teeth may shatter, told me everything I needed to know. Even if she hadn't said, "Can you please stop talking? You are so embarrassing", the penny had dropped: I was officially unhip.

I was reminded again in recent days just how not down with the kids I am when I saw photographs of Rio Ferdinand's face on a suitcase.

His fiancee Kate Wright, jetting off to Mykonos for her hen party, posted a photograph on Instagram – hashtag #MrsFerdyToBe – showing her perched atop customised luggage bearing a giant picture of her future husband.

There was also a matching soft toy with the former Manchester United star's face melded onto what looked like a knock off Teletubby wearing a green mankini.

Yes, it was all as discomfiting as I'm making it sound. I'm squeamish about hen night paraphernalia at the best of times (there was an outright ban on any phallic-themed accessories at my own). Yet, there is something that feels more troubling than tacky about this. It's almost like being branded.

I would take a punt on it being highly unlikely that Rio has a suitcase with Kate's face on it. Nor is he cutting about with a lookalike teddy, lovingly strapping it into plane seats.

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Although perhaps I'm being too quick to judge? In Kate's defence it does make her suitcase much easier to pick out on the baggage carousel. No-one is going to accidentally walk off with the wrong bag when you have a giant-sized, toothy-grinned Rio emblazoned on the front.

Hang on, we could be on to something here. Does anyone have a number for Dragons' Den?