Dear Miss Manners:
I recently had a bit of a dilemma. It was a rather unnerving experience and I'd like some advice on whether I took the right path. Forgive me if I ramble on a bit.
I'm...how can I put this...a well-upholstered man of 37. I hold down a responsible job. People sometimes look to me for advice. In short, I am the modicum of respectability.
Picture the scene: it is lunchtime and I'm walking my typical circuit. I'm listening to something typically dystopian on my iPod, but that's OK as I'm alone. I have successfully negotiated the Binley Mega Chippy without falling to its many crispy yet artery-hardening temptations.
Turning the corner, I step across the entrance to a cul-de-sac. An attractive young lady catches my eye - she beckons me to her. I take my earphones out and walk over.
Don't worry. It's not going to be one of those sort of stories.
She is at the wheel of a brand new Peugeot hatchback. The sun glints off the spotless metallic gold paintwork. She is very attractive - did I mention that? And she is hopelessly lost. She needs to find her way to the local branch of B&Q. And it hits me - I actually know where this is!
I smile. Avuncular. Reassuring. Helpful and non-threatening. I open my mouth and start to speak.
And at the same time, a small and previously undetected gob of moisture comes flying out of my avuncular mouth and lands messily on her gold paintwork. Actually, it's not that small. I've seen it. She's seen it. There is no denying it's there. There is a pause, shot through with meaning. I have, essentially, just spat at a stranger.
Do I laugh and wipe it off? Do I apologise profusely? Or was I right to do what I did?
Pretend it's not happened. Gabble out some directions whilst turning purple. Then scamper away, leaving her somewhat bemused at her spitting Samaritan.
There appears to be no guidance on this anywhere - can you help?