Soft & Gentle

The Big Ulsterwoman bounded in through the front door a few weeks back with a glint in her eye that I'd seen before. Like just before I had to take up landscape painting. And the time I was dragged into town for an image makeover to rescue me from 1985.

"I've been to the chemist's", says she, lobbing a blue box in my direction. I opened it with dread and ran my eyes over the plastic tube inside. "Facial moisturiser for men".

"Everyone's using it", she enthused, "David Beckham, for example". "Oh", says I, "would that be the David Beckham who has both ears pierced?". "And Zinedine Zidane", she added breathlessly.

"If I want moisturising," says I, "I'll use water. After all, it's 100% moisture". But I didn't stand a chance. I knew all resistance was useless, so I closed the curtains, entered the bathroom and, within minutes, became a closet male moisturiser.

Oh gay abandon! Innocence evaporated. I had eaten from the tree of knowledge. And do you know what? It didn't feel that bad at all. No woofy smell, no pink haze, just a face that didn't feel it was about to crack like the Grand Canyon every time I think of Reg Empey's hairdo. And three weeks later - I swear it's true - I have less wrinkles, and my skin feels as tight as Michelle Gildernew's cardy.

My point? It's not which Northern Ireland politicians could do with a good moisturising, although one or two spring to mind. It's that sometimes your prejudices can surprise you. Sometimes things aren't as bad as you think - if you step outside your preconceived ideas. Sometimes you discover other people had a point you were intent on missing.

So, politicians (and bloggers), do the Big Thing: Next time the "other side" says something, resist the stock answer. Step back, understand why they're saying it and show them you take them seriously.