Handbags at dawn...

I don't often swear, but I did today on the telephone to an individual temporarily at the helm of a n other media organisation which dared to vilify the Birmingham Mail for no good reason.
The trigger came after he tried to excuse the ill-considered tone as the 'cut and thrust' of the industry when I called to challenge him.
"If that's your attitude, the *!%£*&! gloves will come off," I raged (this was to a chap I've known for 14 years, you'll understand).
The recipient hung up, which was arguably a sensible tactic (although I reckon he lost his ability to speak).
The annoying thing is that his boss and I have an gentleman's agreement not to lower our organisations into such mud-slinging.
I guess acting up in his boss' absence may have gone to the wannabe's head. It's a big chair to fill at times, and certain types just find it irresistible to play the big 'I am' for a week, especially if it's a rare indulgence.
I've since written to the cheeky monkey's organ-grinder and hope that he settles things on his return rather than tempting me into a tit-for-tat.
He'd better, or else I'll make Clifford's day and start naming names (see Clifford's comments on the recent 'Spy' blog).
Blimey, us journos. We do get very (too?) passionate