Last weekend was a unique two days in my life. I got to wear a distressed denim kilt on the Saturday and a grey wool kilt on the Sunday. And do you know what? I absolutely love wearing kilts. I love it so much I think I may single-handedly attempt to launch them in urban London as next season's must-have fashion item. Obviously the kilt carries with it great history and tradition, a unique sense of Scottishness and a reminder that we were historically once an oppressed people who never buckled under the yoke of subjugation but rose up and fought against it: they could take our lives but they could never match our dress sense. That's all well and good, but I have to say, a man of my stature looks great when eight yards of wool are wrapped round his ample waist. Not only do I think men look great in a kilt, I feel great wearing one. They are very comfortable. I've been wearing kilts for nearly five years now; mostly for weddings and functions and the like. I never quite had the balls (if you'll excuse the reference) to wear a kilt in open play. For instance, down the olive-oil aisle in Waitrose; picking the kids up from school; nipping out for a pint of milk and bogroll on a Sunday morning. But now I intend to grasp the nettle and express my kilt-based love in an everyday context. Why not join me?