With the success she’d enjoyed in local government - almost eliminating violence against women - Rachel Simmons’ ambitions grew and grew. When the next general election came around she stood for election as an independent, representing her ‘True Equality’ party. Again, she won with a landslide, inflicting the heaviest defeat on an incumbent party ever recorded.

Once inside the government she set about increasing support for her party, targeting other female MPs first, and then men too. The first defection drew a limited amount of press attention, but by the time she’d signed up half a dozen, she started to be taken much more seriously.

She also targeted by-elections, winning each one with a comfortable majority. Before long she had 20 MPs, a number that demanded attention from the major parties.

She was invited to sit on committees discussing women’s safety issues, and slowly her ideas started to become mainstream policy.

Inevitably at the next election she attracted candidates to stand in almost every constituency. To no-one’s great surprise she won a majority – the first time ever that a government had been formed by a party other than the so-called big three.

She wasted no time in implementing her more radical policies.

Firstly, a law was passed that men were no longer allowed to wear trousers. She cited the success that had been achieved in reducing violence against women since she’d encouraged us to wear skirts. The statistics were undeniable, and the law was passed easily.

There wasn’t much of a reaction. After all, most of us had by then got used to wearing skirts or dresses, so it wasn’t much of a change.

But the changes kept coming. Subtle changes, not enough in isolation to provoke a response, but changes nonetheless.

The next change was that men were not permitted to wear tights. The rationale was that men needed to understand what it was like to only have underwear on under a skirt or dress. Again, it met almost no resistance. Although some of us had started to wear tights, it was no great loss. With Peggy’s help and encouragement I started to shave my legs, and eventually my other areas where body hair grew.

Then came the introduction of what Ms Simmons described as “unisex underwear”. On the surface it sounded innocuous. But she’d invited the CEOs of the major retailers into Downing Street and presented her proposal to them. With threats of differential tax breaks for those who did or did not comply, they all readily agreed.

Six months later it became law that only “unisex underwear” was available for sale. The problem was that “unisex underwear” meant what had previously been known as women’s underwear. It simply meant that male underpants were no longer available, and if men wanted to buy new underwear, it had to be knickers.

At first this had limited impact. We all had underpants, and continued to wear them. But when we had to buy new ones, the only choice was knickers.

I still remember the first time I had to buy some. I was shopping with Peggy, and she found it hilarious that I should have to choose some girly knickers.

The stores had introduced a new pricing policy which meant that regular knickers were priced double what those with masses of frills or lace were priced at. But female customers got a 50% discount on their regular underwear, which made all knickers the same price for them.

What that meant was that for men, though, was that frilly knickers were much cheaper. For those of us on limited incomes, it essentially forced us to buy frillies.

I can still remember my first knickers. I went shopping with Peggy to buy them, and she seemed to be gently enjoying my squirming embarrassment. We weren’t alone – there were several women with their menfolk helping them choose. As men we exchanged embarrassed glances with each other, fully sympathising with each other at this humiliating situation.

After ten or fifteen excruciating minutes we settled on a pack of five. They were shades of pastel – pink, yellow, pale blue, peach and white. Each had contrasting frilly trim around the legs and waist, with a little lacy bow on the waistband.

In her apartment that evening Peggy at least allowed me the privacy to put my knickers on myself, while she made us a couple of G&Ts before the evening started. But I accepted her help to put my suspender belt on, and thread the straps under my knickers to connect them to my stockings.