SOMETIMES, I despair.

The last occasion was on Friday morning when I opened a Welsh newspaper to find a 500-word epic about an Assembly Member's anger that Wales has been 'snubbed' in the latest Volkswagen adverts.

This is the basis of the anger. VW has an ad which is based on the old Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman joke which starts: "An Englishman gets a Beetle with £1,000 off the deposit..."

You can guess where it goes, and then ends up with the words: "This is not a joke".

The newspaper article then said: "There is no mention of a Welshman."

I didn't know whether to throw up my hands or burst out laughing.

This is all based on statements by the Assembly Member for Llanelli Keith Davies who said: "While I'm sure there was no insult intended, this is a bit of a snub to Welsh drivers and Volkswagen should clarify its position.

"We do need to have a sense of humour about these things, but I'd expect better of Volkswagen than to blatantly ignore Wales in one of their prime advertising campaigns.

"It's not quite up there with that startling blunder when the Eurostat Statistial Compendium left Wales off a map, but it's not far off."

Given the fact local councils are cutting services, people are struggling to pay their bills and none of us know how long this recession will last, would I like my AM to be fighting the economic corner of locals rather than moaning on about a VW ad ? As Rhodri Morgan once said: "Does a one-legged duck swim in circles?"

Then there is the 'little country' attitude hang-over from which some of our public figures still suffer.

Why on earth should we care whether or not some advertiser chooses to feature the Welsh? Let's be honest, there was not just "no mention of a Welshman", there was also no mention of a Welsh woman.

Or any other nationality of woman, in fact.

Should women, as 51 per cent of the world's population, rise up and take on VW completely ignoring us?

Oh Lord, should I feel doubly-snubbed? To be Welsh and a woman and not to be mentioned in a cliched advert based on jokes told by comedians who strode the stages of workingmen's clubs in the 1970s, complete with ruffled shirt and velvet jacket.

Perhaps I should take to my bed, Yoko Ono-style, until VW tears down all these posters which snub my Welshness and oestrogen level. Maybe I should stage a Beetle bed-in.

Or perhaps what we should all do here in these lovely little country which makes my heart gladden when I cross the Severn Bridge is not give a monkey's.

The attitude we should be defining ourselves by our neighbours smacks of teenagers who are doing the exact opposite of what their parents tell them, without the self-awareness to understand that just means what our parents say is still governing our lives.

Let's all just grow up.

WALES, it's not me, it's you.
There's no point denying it, this just isn't working.
It used to be fun, we used to have a good time. But now, it's all anxiety followed by drama, drama, drama.  And every time you make a massive effort and things almost change, all I can think is that it really shouldn't be this much hard work.
What's that you say, France away, a little trip to Paris?
Oh well, maybe we'll give it just one more try...