"THE editor will see you now," the editor's secretary announced.

I walked into the office. "Sit down, Russell," the boss said, indicating a rather shabby armchair.

He cleared his throat nervously. The office clock ticked loudly in the background. He poured himself some water. "The thing is ..." he said. His voice trailed away.

I seized the moment. "Am I here because you want to talk about my dress code?"

He brightened. "Actually, yes, I do. The question is, do you think a skirt is really appropriate for a man in your position?"

Dammit. It was a good question. The weather has been unseasonably warm, the office unbearably stuffy. A suit jacket and trousers, and shirt, were too – well, overdressed. Shorts were clearly not the answer. Then I read about those Stockholm commuter-train drivers who had taken to wearing skirts to circumvent a ban on wearing shorts in a heatwave.

I pointed this out to the editor, as gently as I could.

He looked uncomfortable, and it wasn't just because the office air-conditioning had broken down again.

"The thing is ..." he said, again. He paused. "Look, I know there's nothing in our regulations about men wearing skirts, but that's just because no-one ever thought that would actually happen."

I had come prepared. I reached over and laid a newspaper cutting on his desk. It was about the Stockholm train drivers.

I'd highlighted a quote from their employers' spokesman. The editor read it out loud: "Our policy is that you have to look well-dressed and proper, and that means trousers if you're a man and a skirt if you're a woman."

He nodded, as if in triumph.

"There's more," I said.

He looked back at the cutting. Slowly, he read aloud, "But if there's a man who is keen to wear women's clothing, such as a skirt, we have said that's OK." He sat back, crestfallen.

"Look," I said, suddenly conciliatory. "If you have a better idea about what men can wear in the office in a hot summer, I'll go along with it."

He glanced up, sensing a way out of this impasse.

"What do you wear in this weather?" I asked.

Smiling, he stood up, and I caught sight, for the first time, of his shocking-pink, eye-wateringly-tight Speedos.

It was at that moment that I woke up, drenched in sweat.