The trouble is, we've all been there. My friend the Dean
Emeritus of Guildford Fr Victor Stock once published a book of diaries from his
time as Vicar of St Mary le Bow in the City (he maintains half the hierarchy of
the Church of England lives in fear of the next volume coming out), and in it
there are several absolutely cringeworthy accounts of mis-speaking, usually in attempts
to be amusing. ‘Why did I say that?’ Fr Victor asks himself on a number of
occasions. And I can recall equally appalling instances – using appalling in
its original meaning, implying something that positively drains the blood from
one's face – of throwaway remarks I have made which are just not the right
thing to say. They have, for some reason, usually occurred in the context of
weddings when I am trying to be amusing to put people at their ease, and
instead go a bit hysterical. As Fr Victor warns, ‘too funny isn't funny at all’.
These moments of catastrophic inappropriateness are as
demonic in nature as anything is, and steal upon us when we feel just
comfortable enough in our role, whatever it is, to forget ourselves and allow
the sort of humour that helps us get through a job to leak out into the light.
At least my slip-ups will have done nothing more damaging than make people
think I'm an idiot, rather than contribute perhaps rather significantly to the
loss of a General Election. Poor man; silly bugger.
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