There's an ominously dark place in my head which is responsible for some unpleasant thoughts and outbursts, somewhere I used to visit a lot in my teens, but not so much nowadays. However, very occasionally events get the better of me.

Leaving a Cardiff multi-storey car park on Thursday afternoon, the last thing Mum and I expected to encounter was a man driving up the steep, twisting exit ramp, putting him on a collision course with us. Not reversing, mind, but actually driving up the down slope. To get there he must have passed at least three signs informing him that this was not the direction in which he wanted to go, any one of which he or his wife could be expected to have spotted.

I had a headache at the time, so perhaps unsuprisingly the fact that this imbecile forced Mum to back into the car behind her (itself not holding its distance, but hardly at fault), prompted a torrent of abuse that might shock even those who know me best or are used to my encounters with dodgy computers. This tirade was, of course, expressed from the safety of a passenger seat and towards the man's boot as he neglected to make any kind of apology and carried on looking for a place to park.

But quite where I dredged up the suggestion some minutes later that Mum might want to have the halfwit shot and then piss in his wife's mouth, I don't know. Maybe I should learn to let go.