Aw c'mon, we've all done it!… We've all opened our mouth when the best and wisest option was to have kept the gob firmly shut. Been a smart arse only for us to wish that the ground to would open up directly beneath our feet and swallow us without leaving a trace. Those God awful embarrassing moments that we create and only become aware of when the bomb explodes in our faces.

Yes, this is a confession and I undertake it purely as a means of catharsis. I want to share it (there were enough bloody witnesses anyway). It is also not particularly Politically Correct, so those of a sensitive disposition, please look away now and I shall begin…

It would be about 25 years ago and I had left my native Scotland and moved to a new development in a small village outside Cambridge, England. The community had a sizeable chunk of inhabitants who were much like myself: fist-time home buyers, young, aspiring and pretty sociable. We used to go to pubs together, meet in each others' houses for coffee, have parties, etc, etc.. It was during one of these socials that one of my neighbours, a Welsh guy, announced that his brother was coming "from the valleys” to visit the next week.

The following week I, and about 8 others, dutifully assembled in the appointed house for the evening coffee. As I entered the room I spotted a figure, wearing dark tinted glasses, who was sitting back in his seat, his legs stretched out in front of him and wearing the most outrageous platform shoes I have ever seen. The soles were at least 3 inches and 10 years out of date. I had spied the brother! Tinted specs? Platforms?… Ha! I can have some fun here. Fodder!

Mid-sentence, I suddenly shouted "Uggy! Uggy! Uggy!” (A Welsh thing â€" explanations on request). The response was immediate, the brother leant forward and shouted the customary retort "Oi! Oi! Oi!”… He's on the hook! He's mine!

"Ah,” I replied, "I take it from that outburst that you must be the younger brother, Simon?” (name changed â€" big family!)
"I am indeed, Boyo”
"Well I think we need to have a word with your brother as he didn't quite prepare us for what to expect on your arrival. I'm very pleased to meet you, Simon, but I can sense that there is some tension here and I think we need to get things into the open so that everyone can relax. It's obvious you are different from us, does that make you feel any less human?”

There was a deafening silence. I gazed into the tinted lenses but couldn't make out any expression. I glanced at my neighbours and I saw the abject horror in their eyes and mouths agape.

Aw.. C'mon guys… You know I'm joking… You know my sense of humour…
Hmmm, I'll try again..

"Look, Simon, I'm not trying to be disagreeable, but it's obviously on everyone's mind and I think it better to get it out so that it's not an issue anymore. All I'm asking is if you feel any different from the rest of us?”
The response was calm and measured… "Do you want to waken up seeing Jesus Christ?”

I looked at the neighbours again… they hadn't moved. They were frozen in time, but I swear I could hear the collective beating of hearts "Dudump! Dudump! Dudump!”

What's going on? This isn't working, I thought… Time to bail out. "Simon, I wouldn't want you to think I was being confrontational, after all it's not your fault that you have two club feet”.

Simon looked at me, then his shoes and laughed. There was a collective sigh of relief from the neighbours and the audible twang of muscles suddenly being relaxed. But I was puzzled.

During the course of the remainder of the evening there were many topics of conversation and lively discussions. At one point, the topic of height came up and someone mentioned that I was 6'2”. "That's tall,” Simon said, "I'm only 5'” and with that stood up to reveal…. a hump on his back.

Oh dear God.. Let me leave now! My nuts tightened, my sphincter gave a twitch and the blood in my head went straight to the soles of my feet. It was an "Oh Fuck!” moment of such magnitude that the Richter Scale could never hope to measure. I left as early as I could.

The following morning I was in my garden and Simon came over. "I just came over to tell you not to worry about last night, I know you didn't know”.
I apologised profusely anyway.
"Don't worry about it… It was quite funny… You nearly made your neighbours shit”.

Simon's visit was extended from 2 weeks to 4 years… (Bloody Welsh!.. You can't get rid of them!!) and he did become a good friend and neighbour.

Ah!… That's it… Do I feel better… Not really, but I can at least laugh about it now…