The French have a term called âLâesprit du lâescalierâ or âthe spirit of the stairsâ. It applies to the moments after a verbal confrontation, when you think of a smart answer, but far too late, usually after your walking down the stairs. Iâve spent my life being a victim to this phenomenon. Like most people, I have a simple technique to cope with the humiliation. I simply pretend later on in the pub, that I actually thought up my smart remark on the spot, and delivered it, rapier-like to my enemy. I feel that now is the time for me and my fellow ARRSERs to come clean. You know what Iâm on about. How many times have you big timed it in the pub about how you really let someone have it, with a put-down of Stephen Fry standards, whilst secretly knowing that youâd been verbally bitch slapped whilst looking at your shoes the whole time. Youâll feel better for admitting it, and your real mates need never know. For instance, my first job after leaving the army was as a âSurvey Technician Assistant.â This meant driving a land-rover at 30 miles an hour all over the country, a massive departure from my previous career. After a couple of weeks, I showed up 15 minutes late for work, and was given a bollocking by my new boss, a munchkin, who looked like Reg Holdsworth but with none of the Corrie character's lighthearted idiocy. When heâd finished telling me how lucky I was to be in a job at all, I looked him straight in the eye, âIâm sorry, it wonât happen again.â I was as mad as a lorry for the afternoon, ashamed at my complete capitulation. It was only later that it occurred to me that I should have said. âYou can stick your fcuking job up your ARRSE you fat little cu-nt. Iâve a good mind to keep hitting you till I get bored.â This cheered me up no end, and by the time I arrived in the pub that evening, Iâd embellished the incident to such a point, that my boss had actually begged not to leave. Anyone else??