Do We All Suffer From Foot-in-Mouth Disease?

Is it just me or has everyone got a really big fat mouth?

I remember interviewing one of my favourite people, Big Brother host Gretel Killeen, and it felt a little like a train wreck.

The conversation went something like, “So Gretel, you’re probably not that happy with the people dressing you this year? I mean, you’re not looking as good as you used to. What’s going on with that?”

It might not have been quite that brutal but trust me, it was the general gist of what I said.

Gretel replied, “Well, actually Caroline I can’t really be unhappy because I choose all my own clothes for the show”.

Now, a sane person with an ounce of tact would have got the hell out of the wardrobe conversation immediately. Posthaste. Gone. Outta there.

Apparently I’m not as sane as I thought because I ploughed on, trying to fix my horrible, clumsy gaff. In the meantime, digging myself to Siberia.

Obviously I blame TV Week. Or New Weekly. Or Women’s Weekly or some other magazine because I swear I read somewhere that she was being dressed by someone else.

My children have disowned me. My husband made me write Gretel a note thanking her for her time. Could be a little late for sucking up you think?

My foot-in-mouth disease shouldn’t be too shocking for John because he’s certainly no better.

On two separate occasions he has said to friends of mine, “Congratulations, I didn’t know you were expecting” when they weren’t.

And earlier this year when he was dropping our daughter Millie to her friend Lizzie’s party, he met a parent at the door and whispered conspiratorially, “Hi mate. Um, just before I go in, what’s Lizzie’s mum’s name?”

The parent whispered back, “It’s Robyn. Nice to see you again John. I’m Barry, Lizzie’s dad.” Sensational!

When I told mum about the Killeen incident she reminded me of when I was six years old and saw a man’s car keys on a shop counter. His key ring was the school photo variety, with his daughter’s face beaming out.

I picked it up and said, “Oh yuck! Why have you got her on your key ring?”

Desperately, mum cut in, “Don’t be silly Caroline. You don’t even know who it is!” to which I replied, “Yes I do. That’s Linda Holland. She’s the meanest girl in the school.” Excellent.

And don’t worry. I know what you’re thinking. Sometimes it really is just me.