I very rarely swear. And never in front of women and children. I'm a tad old fashioned about this - even though I understand that young women out on the town these days are much more foul-mouthed than young men. So today's occurrence was unfair in the extreme. Fate dealt me a poor hand.
For some reason, I've been feeling a bit down for a while and this morning had been a bit stressful. I'd been to the Newtown studio to do a piece for Post Cynta on our manifesto, which was to be launched at 10.30 in North Wales. Problem was that I hadn't read the final version, didn't know the lines we were going on - and it was in Welsh, which is a beautiful language but which I still find difficult. And Iolo ap Dafydd shows me no mercy these days. Anyway, I survived and was belting up to Northop for the launch, having asked my good friend, Brynle Williams for directions.
Problem was that Brynle's directions were duff. He sent me right instead of left. After a fruitless search for a promised set of crossroads, I rang BW on his mobile. No answer. Rang 4 times. No answer. Launch time approaching and now highly stressed. 5th call and Brynle answered. He hadn't even finished saying "Hello" when I .....how shall I put this......expressed my view of his directions, outlined displeasure at my predicament and suggested what he might do to help - but utilising words of variety and colour! It will not help my reputation if I record precisely what I said.
And just guess what Brynle said, and as cool as you like. "I'll come and collect you when I've dropped Cheryl Gillan and David Cameron off at the launch - and by the way my mobile is on open mike in the car." I felt a bit as the Earl of Oxford must have done when he farted in front of Queen Elisabeth 1st, and left the country for 10 years in shame. The only consolation is that David Cameron knows how desperate I was to get to support him at the launch. And Brynle will dine out for weeks on this of course.