The press went into meltdown. Gordon Brown was a mess, he should be locked up, he was the worst thing to hit politics since a certain Austrian midget grew a moustache and hypnotised a nation.
C’mon people...let he/she who is without gravel cast the first stone. Sorta.
Yes it was a mistake. And yes, he should know better, but has ANYONE, ANYWHERE in the planet, in the course of their daily lives not done something similar? That polite face we show to people we would much rather not be close enough to spray with our spittle is what lubricates society. Otherwise we’d constantly be at each other’s throats.
On the other side of the pond, Joe Biden is garnering a reputation for making the odd gaffe.
"Stand up, Chuck, let 'em see ya." –-Joe Biden, to Missouri state Sen. Chuck Graham, who is in a wheelchair, Columbia, Missouri, Sept. 12, 2008
"This is a big fucking deal!" --Joe Biden, caught on an open mic congratulating President Barack Obama during the health care signing ceremony, Washington, D.C., March 23, 2010
I myself have been guilty of it on many occasions, and on many occasions even within earshot of the person concerned. And *he blushes* often directly to them – it’s a wonder I can even speak at times what with my foot being so firmly wedged in my mouth.
One time, more than a few years ago I was at the movies with my then-wife waiting for the film to begin, when one of my friends and his brother walked past on the way to their seats. The lights were still blazing so we couldn’t not see each other.
Some backstory is required here. Said friend had just been jilted by his fiancée, a week before the wedding. This particular night, on which fate contrived to bring us all together, was supposed to be the stag. So instead of a night down the town, pickling my kidneys and humiliating the groom by stripping him and wheeling him down the high street in a cage...I was at the cinema with my good lady.
“Hey,” my friend said when he saw us, his face as long as a weekend stuck in a lift with David Cameron.
Me and the missus just stared at him. We hadn’t seen him since his intended broke his heart. There was an awkward silence that stretched out for the length of time it could have taken for the movie’s opening credits to roll past. The planets yawned and stretched. Several species of insect died out in the Amazon. I grew a five o-clock shadow. The extended version of Bohemian Rhapsody played through the cinema loudspeakers.
Eventually, thinking that somebody HAD to say something and that someone HAD to be me, I nodded towards the giant screen and with an expression that mingled sympathy, humour , gormlessness and a touch of heartburn said...
“This beats going out on a stag night, eh?”
My wife elbowed me in the ribs, the brothers walked past after shooting me the “what an asshole” look, my entire head blushed as brightly as a belisha beacon and then... only then did the fecking lights dim.
So Gordie, (and Joe) you have my sympathy.
(In the interests of having some form of dialogue with you lovely people, why don’t you fess up and tell me of a time when you put your foot in it, here in the privacy of this wee blog? You first EW. You MUST have loads of stories to tell.)