Wednesday, 14 August 2013


There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is embarrassment.

Here, in no particular order, are three instances of me being a fucking idiot:

3. Last week I was at the Edinburgh Fringe which was excellent as ever, except for one exchange that took place when I was trying to buy some tickets. The woman at the desk asked me for my postcode.

"AL4..." I began. She looked at me confused, then started to type and said: "A... L... F... O...?" She was spelling out the number 4. In a postcode. I assumed postcodes must work differently in Scotland and explained that I meant the number 4.

"The number 4?" she asked. "In a first name?"

I contemplated whether to go along with the idea that I had a number in my name in order to save face, but decided it would be best to just admit that I'd misheard her. It really did sound like she said postcode though, which makes me wonder if they just do that to mess with people. Oh and please don't try to work out my address. 

2. This incident gave me a flashback to a similar ordeal that happened years ago. I was in a shop with a friend and the guy asked if I'd like a bag, to which I said: "No thanks." Upon leaving the shop, my friend told me that he'd actually said: "Have a nice day." I have no idea how I misheard that, but he must have thought I was the world's rudest prick. He was only trying to be friendly and I threw it back in his face, albeit inadvertently. Maybe it was the final straw in his increasingly resentful view of humanity and he went home and killed himself. But that's nothing compared to the small amount of embarrassment I felt. 

1. A girl I liked once asked me what I thought of her new jeans and all I could nervously stutter at her was: "They're blue." Nice one, James Bond.

So what have I learnt? That I'm pathetic, and quite possibly deaf. Here's Madness: