I love those moments when the mouth moves independantly of the brain. When the speaker's trap just seems two steps ahead. A rational person would just want to grab onto the strands of the errant words as they fly out of the mouth and stuff them back in there.
But more than often it's the drink that's to blame, and they couldn't give a toss what they've said. And probably won't remember in about five minutes anyway.
That's what I found myself thinking on Saturday night. It was Shandies and PB's joint birthday party at our new favourite place, El Rincón de Andy.
It's a small 'old man' style tavern that does really basic Mexican food. But the real charm of the place is The owner, Andy.
A shock of white hair and a mustache to match, which fully means he could do a great santa claus impression. He was born and raised in Madrid, but hear him speak English and you'll be shocked by his accent. Close your eyes and you've got Colin Firth in 'The King's Speech' (minus the stammer that is).
He atrended British boarding school and also us fluent in French. "I fell in love with a Parisienne, and followed her there," he explains.
Over his striped shirt he wears pink braces, to hold up his trousers. And if he isn't wearing a bow tie then he really should be.
"A real gentleman", noted the bloke, impressed by the way he served the girls of the group their after dinner chupitos before the boys. It never ceases to amaze me that he notices things like that.
Anyway, the inappropriate comment of the evening doesn't come from Andy, it's from a rowdy group of New Yorkers- all of them members of the flight crew of intercontinental airways.
And the recipient is my mate Shandies. The guy in question obviously thinks he's smooth.
"You're really pretty," he says.
"i think you're really handsome," she replies.
They stand and smile shyly at each other for a while, then Shandies starts to walk back to her seat.
"Can I have sex with you tonight?" he shouts after her.
Shandies kept walking.
Does that kind of crap actually work? I guess it must or else men wouldn't bother. But really, how flippin cheeky. The stupid fool might have been in there - after all she did say he was handsome. He messed it royally up- bout as subtle as Freddy Mercury. Gave us all a good laugh though at least.
The other example comes from Christmas in Durham. One of those evenings where everyone gets a bit over excited and drinks more than they're used to.
Dad was telling his old army jokes and we were all mixing drinks up hurricane style. Even my uncle, who doesn't usually drink, was getting stuck into the red wine.
And it was him who put his arms around the bloke and my neck and happily said to him: "I like yer, but if you cross my niece then I'll kill yer and bury yer."
I think it was the most serious talking to the bloke's ever had from my family. Don't think he really knew what to say to that one.
One thing's for sure, he'd better treat me right, or uncle Mike will be waiting with a shovel.