Two return tickets to 'Buy-Sester' please...
Erm, 'Biss-Ester?'...
It's all right, Bob's got this... 'Bitch-Ester?'

Well, that's saved you a few bob because the driver's just kicked you off his bus. Three strikes and you're out in this part of Oxfordshire.

It's pronounced 'Bister' as in rhymes with sister who's been kicked off the bus with you since she didn't know that, neither.

The Saturday traffic through Bicester, itself, is trailed back to the M40 so Bicester Village will have to do, an idyllic example of rural England in what's just about the Cotswolds.

Hardly. Here's an outlet shopping centre that's home to more than 160 fashion and lifestyle boutiques, each offering savings of up to 60%, all year round, alright.

Sure, everybody has heard of the Cotswolds but nobody really knows where they are. If you find yourself in Bicester Village, however, that means you're just about in them.

It's a posher version of Dalton Park in County Durham and by posher it's meant Gucci™ and Prada™ posher.

There's not much chance of a cheap pair of end-of-season chinos from M&S™ or an Edinburgh Woolie Mill™ with a reduced range in checky shirts here.

Still, at least the parking's free and there's plenty of it.

These high-end brands are an attraction for new money from the east and no, it's not meant Milton Keynes.

Here is second only to Buck. Pal. in terms of numbers of visitors to the UK from China, you see, and three-quarters of them will follow the signs in Mandarin from Marylebone to get here.

That's a far safer bet than that bus driver who would only have to kick them off, definitely.

Cupcakes are of the 'handcrafted' variety, obviously, the information assistants all wear formal livery and there are bouncers at the bigger brands to keep the queues under control.

The devil definitely does wear Prada™ and he's doing it right here in this version of hell.

The only thing that caught SlyBob's eye was what was thought to be an off-licence but turned out to be a very different kind of Stella™ altogether.

There's even a multi-faith contemplation room that's not just there for you to ponder how much for that Vivienne Westwood, RIP, dress but why you're wasting half a weekend?

An indicator, perhaps, of the type of clientele that's attracted to here. I mean, just what kind of person parks their McLaren 570S, badly, in a disabled parking bay?

The kind that needs to join you in the contemplation room and think long and hard about their behaviour. They've let Bicester down, they've let themselves down and just like Vivienne Westwood, they've let McLaren down.

Not that it was known to be a McLaren 570S at the time, by the way, but that Google™ has really got rather clever, don't you think?