I flicked through a list of quirky gadgets on my tablet, the latest novelty item catching my eye. My girlfriend lounged beside me, her phone aglow with images of vibrant dresses and sleek sneakers, a pile of returns waiting by the door. "When I'm in government, returns will stop, and if not, there’ll at least be a returns fee!" "If you made that your election pledge, you'd never get elected!" We both burst into laughter, the playful debate becoming a running joke in our household.

A government spokesperson stands at the podium, reciting grim statistics about clothing waste—mountains of discarded fabric, polluted rivers, and underpaid workers in faraway lands. Government Spokesperson (stern, committed): "In the UK alone, 350,000 tonnes of clothing waste pour into landfills annually. That’s £140 million in resources, squandered. Our returns culture fuels this—garments bought on a whim, returned, and then condemned to rags." The room hums with murmurs, some MPs glancing at their phones, others listening intently.

My girlfriend sits upright, her eyes fixed on the screen, her latest shoe purchase perched precariously on her lap. "See? I told you—returns aren’t free for the planet or the retailer." "But what if I get the wrong size? It’s not like I can always tell from a picture!" We exchange glances, our usual banter edged with uncertainty.

Speaker of the House (authoritative, measured): "All in favor of a fee on returned items—say 'Yay.' All those not in favor—'Nay.'" A chorus of overlapping voices erupts—some sharp, some reluctant, each echoing through the gilded chamber. Before the result is revealed, I click the TV remote, plunging the room into sudden silence.

"Turn it back on! I need to know if they passed it!" "Does it matter? The debate's bigger than one vote. Maybe we should both think twice before hitting 'Buy Now,' especially on sneakers two sizes too small." Frustration battles with reflection in her eyes, the gravity of waste and responsibility settling between us.

My girlfriend hovers over her next purchase, hesitating before confirming her size, her fingers poised above the 'Order' button. I watch, a smile tugging at my lips, knowing our playful argument now carries a new weight. The debate on returns, it seems, will never be truly settled—not in Parliament, and not in our home.