I take this opportunity to inform Alistair Darling that, sadly, my VAT payment at the end of this month will be lost in the post. And regrettably the disc on which I keep my tax records has gone missing so I shall skip the January payment.

Mr Darling may think that, even when a mega-blunder occurs, a Chancellor of the Exchequer need not consider his position, but Times columnists take our responsibilities more seriously. Were anyone bitten by a bat to die of rabies on account of reading this column last week and taking my advice not to bother seeing a doctor, I would feel honour-bound to resign. So I had better cover myself.

“I really would urge you,” writes kindly Alison Rasey from the admirable Bat Conservation Trust, “to visit your GP to discuss post-exposure treatment for rabies.” This she recommends “firstly with regards to your personal wellbeing, and secondly that of the public”.

Ms Rasey writes from (honestly) Battersea. She thinks I should not have given readers the impression that it is anything but folly not to have washed my bat punctures with soap and water, nor to have discussed with my doctor the possibility of inoculation. Emphasising that the incidence of rabies in British bats is very rare, she reminds me that it remains possible to contract rabies from a bat bite, and that a bat worker in Scotland died from this five years ago.

Should you, reader, be bitten by a bat, Ms Rasey wants you to know that further information can be obtained from the National Bat Helpline (0845 1300 228) or www.bats.org.uk. I simply pass this on. I have not the least intention of whiling away a morning in an NHS surgery but wouldn't dream of advising you likewise.

Times readers, do as Ms Rasey says, not as I do.

PS: The bite-marks have faded. I miss them. I was briefly privileged.

So it was too late when the former head of MI5 asked to see my bat punctures on Saturday. Dame Stella Rimington was with Michael Winner and me to discuss her BBC documentary about Russia (and my anthology of political brick-dropping) on Loose Ends on Radio 4, with Clive Anderson. She accompanied us to a pub after the recording.

Or, rather, she set out with us, but was soon besieged by autograph-seekers waiting on the pavement. I'm not sure anyone recognised any of the other guests. So the HM Secret Service boss did a public walkabout, signing books and cards, while the rest of us walked on, incognito.

The following night I appeared on the West End stage, tackling that most challenging of roles: the part of an anti-Blairite Times columnist. A charity performance of the satirical musical Blair on Broadway (its regular current venue the Hen & Chickens in Islington) had been staged at the Arts Theatre near Leicester Square. My cameo role involved walking on and saying a very rude word about Alastair Campbell, always a pleasure.

Stage fright! I haven't acted since 1967 when with spectacular lack of success I played the romantic male lead, Ferdinand, in a production of Shakespeare's The Tempest in Kingston, Jamaica. I was truly awful. My nemesis was a car crash of a French kiss with the 37-year-old divorcee playing Miranda. I was only 17 and doubt I'd ever kissed a girl before, except some of my aunts. I still wince at the thought of it.

And now, 40 years later, another on-stage kiss: with the handsome and talented young star of the show, Joshua Martin (playing Mr Blair). So this time the nightmare was his. But he took it with great fortitude. The show's huge fun. If anyone else would like me to kiss anyone on stage, would they get in touch?

Introducing my book of gaffes on Loose Ends, I got the name of my co-editor, Phil Mason, wrong. I know Phil well and do not know why I called him Paul — put it down to nerves. Mortified, as Clive Anderson reminded me of my own collaborator's name, I was kind of hoping for a retake. No such luck. Stern Mr Anderson ploughed on. Quite right too.

Phil's and my book mocks statesmen who forgot the names of people and places, with no chance for a retake; so fair cop — hoist with my own petard.

— Mission Accomplished: Things Politicians Wish They Hadn't Said is published by JR Books

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