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I'm not sure how you’re meant to go about challenging bigots in public.

Which means I’m not sure if I did right or wrong when I had a go at it the other day.

The thing is, if I hadn’t done what I’d done, I’d have probably felt a bit of self-loathing, and no little regret.

So here’s the story. Through my eyes at least...

Here I am, walking into a local charity shop (which will remain anonymous), with a bag full of books ready to drop off just before Christmas. I overhear a conversation as I enter. It’s an earnest conversation, so it’s difficult not to tune in as I wait in the queue at the counter.

As I tune in, I realise a horrible, incontrovertible truth about the situation.

They’re being racist.

These two women are being openly racist and islamophobic. In this quiet little charity shop – a charity which stands for kindness and humanity – near my house.

One has particular has forthright views.

“Enoch Powell was right about rivers of blood,” she’s saying.

Unfounded panic

I’m feeling my face get heated and my body twinging in discomfort.

“They’re going to overrun us... Where will it all stop?... We shouldn’t let the dinghies in....”

Hang on, I’m listening and realising that this woman is saying we should let dinghies full of desperate people – children and babies among them – drift in dangerous seas, presumably to their deaths, because they’re not “our” problem.

The conversation goes on and I drop my books off and walk out.

I give the women a stare, but they ignore me – they’re stuck in a conversation whipped up by unfounded panic. I walk out of the shop and past the window, still staring at the two, still being ignored.

No doubt their fear is fuelled by the recent mass murders in Paris – but not backed by the complexity of facts or logic or knowledge of how and why the awful tragedy of November 13 happened, less the context of events in the greater tragedies of Syria, Iraq and Libya.

More from Aled: The islamophobic phone caller and my misspelled tweet about Gandhi that went around the world

So desperate people, whose only difference is their language and religion, are demonised and hated by people who think they themselves are nice. A few moments later and I walk past the shop again, peer in to see if the bigots are still there.

At first I think they’re gone... before, shock – sickened shock – one of them (the loudest one) is standing behind the counter.

I spend some seconds contemplating what to do, then take a deep breath and walk in.

I spot my books still on the counter, breathe a little sigh of relief, march up and pick them up.

She’s serving someone – ironically after that talk about Enoch Powell and rivers of blood, a black customer – but I interrupt. This is no time for the usual politeness.

“Excuse me, I’m taking my books back,” I say. “I’d have never dropped them off had I known you worked here. I heard your racist conversation, I heard what you were saying about Syrian refugees. About people in need. About Enoch Powell being right. I am disgusted.”

She replies: “You’ll have to speak to the manager.”

I ignore.

“I’m taking my books. I don’t want to donate them here any more.”

She says: “I’m a volunteer, I’ve just started. You’ll have to speak to the manager.”

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, working for [this charity], which is supposed to be here to help everyone, no matter who they are or where they’re from.”

poll loading Would you confront someone using racist language? 0+ VOTES SO FAR Yes, definitely I hope I'd be brave enough I know I should but I wouldn't No, everyone is entitled to their opinions

Rotten view

I get a cocked ear I perceive as arrogance and the same line about speaking to the manager.

I can almost feel the discomfort the poor customer is feeling and the shop is silent as others listen in.

I’m trying to be brave and eloquent, but I’m shaking with fury. My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton wool. My brow is sweaty.

So I take my books and walking out, I look back.

The manager is running after me, pleading for me to wait.

But I shout one parting shot as I step out of the door.

“ASHAMED. YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED.”

I’ve done something totally against my nature. I’ve challenged someone publicly, a stranger with a rotten view of the world and of desperate people in need of the help of strangers better off than them.

Since the incident I’ve emailed the charity (a long, angry email – full of personal detail about why I’d previously always given generously to it) and they say they’re investigating.

I’m not sure if anything will happen, or what could or should be done. Or if my word is stronger, or worth more, than the bigot’s.

I could have done better, been more eloquent.

And I’m still not sure if this is how you challenge bigots in public.

But I feel better.

I hope I’ve made at least one intolerant person at least think before spouting their abhorrent opinions in earshot of the rest of us.