Where are your manners?

One can always tell when one has begun to grow older. Birthdays stop being days of fun and happiness and gradually take on a pervading sense of creeping doom. Christmas becomes the one day of the year you’re not allowed to sleep off your hangover. You start to have to CHOOSE between Friday or Saturday for your big night out. And ones unguarded thoughts and reactions begin to resemble the front page of the Daily Mail.

Take, for example, take my reaction yesterday to a couple of students with no comprehension of “personal space”, “manners” or “blimey, that bloke is starting to look really really pissed off”. I was sat with my wife at a concert hall (and just the beginning of that sentence alone makes me feel like my dad…), and the 4 gentlemen sat in front of me recognised the one sat behind me. So the first one in front leaned across me to shake the hand of the one behind. A little irritating of course, but nothing too troubling. His friend chose to go one step further. The little shit leant across me and offered a very urban hand slap to his friend. Right next to my fucking ear. It sounded like a fleshy gunshot, and my brain immediately clicked into the “young people today, no manners, no manners at all” gear that one seems to get issued with upon hitting 30.

Anyway, after a couple of minutes of silent fuming (another feature of the over 30s, particularly the English I think), I caught myself and realised that my thoughts were churning over in exactly the same way as the blue-rinsed cockwasps that I despise. The main focus of my ire centred around manners. And it does seem these days that we’re subjected to an endless litany of complaints that the manners of people in general today are not nearly as good as the manners of those in the past. And that got me thinking, is this true? Or is it rose-tinted nostalgia? And if it is true, why is this?

I suppose that if we look at things like doffing ones cap to a lady, opening doors for someone, calling a man “sir” as a mode of address, and simple things like “please”, “thank you”, and “excuse me” then our manners compared to, say, 100 years ago are sorely lacking. But on the other hand, when it comes to mortality rates, life expectancy, and instances of repressed men visiting child brothels, we’re somewhat in advance of our forebears.

So whilst the bigger things (lifespan, general health, standard of living) have improved in the UK, it would seem that the smaller things, manners, have taken a hammering. Is there a reason for this? I would say that there is. I think that the use of what we understand as manners has began to decay in this country for a couple of reasons, and the most obvious one of these is fear.

Fear always, always, re-enforced the use of manners. It used to start at school with the liberal use of corporal punishment. Didn’t call your elders “sir” at school? Then you can win, free of charge, a beating from your teacher. Displayed insolence to one of your peers? Then it’s an all-expenses paid beating for you! Didn’t stand whenever a lady (be a teacher, a nurse, or one of the teachers wives) entered the room? Then allow us to present you with the free gift of a beating.

It continued in ones working and social environment (which, being as many children didn’t even get to school, meant that the same social conditioning to good manners occurred no matter where one grew up). Complaining about poor working conditions and wages? Say goodbye to your job and HELLO to destitution and even more abject poverty. Posterity abounds with tales of the lower classes being treated appallingly by the growing middle classes. And if one goes back further, and we look to times when a Lord literally had the power of life and death over his serfs...well, one is much less likely to be singled out for rough treatment if one is unfailingly polite to the Lord and his representatives.

Even if we look at the societies today that are praised for their excellent manners, they are as well mannered due to fear. Singapore and Malaysia are two nations that are routinely praised by tiresome and reactionary old fucks for having beautifully polite young men and women who don’t spit, don’t chew gum, and don’t listen to loud music in public whilst wearing hoodies. And this is true; they don’t. Mainly because of the Draconian laws that fine, imprison, and generally threaten everyone who deviates from these standards of good manners.

(I should interject on my own behalf here; I’m not trying to say that they people should be free to act and behave like Junior Clockwork Oranges. I feel very strongly that manners have a place in society, and an important place at that. However, when I hear all these reedy-voiced horsefuckers saying that we “need to instil some manners into people!”, I can’t help thinking “what, so you want to make people afraid of you? Wow…how very grown up of you.”)

I guess that a big part of the reason that we don’t feel the sense of fear that gave us our manners is the class system, or lack thereof. We no longer feel that we automatically have to show manners to someone for no reason other than they come from a higher social class than us. The class structure of Britain informed a huge part of British life, and whilst I’m not naïve enough to think that it’s died altogether, its stranglehold has gone and with it have gone the good manners and fear so beloved of wrinkled moaners.

(Another brief interjection; I’m inclined to think that the Internet has also contributed to the death of manners. It would be hypocritical in the extreme of me to lament poor manners without acknowledging that I regularly get involved in the kind of petty, vicious, pointless, and hugely satisfying arguments over the internet that would make polite society shit it’s collective nappy in horror. I’m not sure whether the bitchiness that the anonymity of the net has brought about is also affecting the rest of society, but I know that the Internet is no respecter of status or class, and that this equality tends to mean that everyone is fair game in an argument. Despite the efforts of those few laughable brain donors who try to threaten physical violence to the writer of words on a screen.)

So where does that leave us? Well, I do want to see a better mannered society, but I don’t want it to be done by means of keeping the masses afraid of the few. It strikes me that manners should be about mutual respect. Having enough respect for ones fellow man that one automatically treats them with good manners unless one is given reason not to. What’s more, a society where people respect one another would mean that we’d see less crime, fewer headlines claiming that immigrants are going to ruin the country, and a greater sense of personal happiness and sense of security.

As to how this sense of mutual respect can be created…well, I don’t claim to know exactly how that can be done. All I do know is that as long as we have media headlines encouraging us to fear whichever group in society currently have pariah status, and as long as Governments keep trying to maintain their own personal position at the expense of any genuine advances, and as long as war is waged and then justified using religion, and as long as we all remain totally unwilling to take any responsibility for our own lives and actually try to make a difference, then this society will be either scared or ill-mannered or both.

An etiquette guide

For some time now, I have been pressed by a number of my correspondents to put the definitive guide to slinging shit around the dinner table. It was only after the dinner party hosted by Lord Dangleberry last April that I saw the need for such a document. The party ended somewhat shambolically after Miss Rowena Trackmark indulged in rectal digging before the soup course had been finished, and Sir Timothy Lilyjuice continued hurling his (somewhat sloppy) faeces at guests long after the meal was over.

So then, I am faced with the task of trawling through the various regional variations of shit throwing to put together a unified British etiquette to this much loved and ancient practice. I am indebted to my two young researchers, a Miss Louise Ankelspunk and a Miss Hilary Zeitguest for their efforts in tracking down and collating the various references to shit throwing that are left with us from antiquity.

Before I go further, I should point out that I have decided not to make reference to any of the continental variations of shit throwing. Whilst I have the greatest of respect for the customs of our foreign cousins, I can see no value in their inclusion. It would be impossible, for example, to reconcile the Italian tradition of an after dessert free for all with the more staid (and dare I say it, more proper) Russian stance, whereby only the four most senior guests along with the host are permitted to throw shit, and then only after the final course.

So then, onwards we must go. Firstly, I shall address the point of who may sling their shit. The correct approach is to wait for the host to throw a log before indulging. However, should the host not have flung a turd by the end of dessert, it is acceptable for the gentleman to the right of the host to throw a shit at whoever is sitting to the left of the host.
As to the remainder of the guests, one must of course deal with the thorny subject of female throwing. A number of counties do not allow the fairer sex to enjoy throwing shit, whilst others set a part of the meal aside specifically for the women guests. In order to try and achieve some sort of compromise between all viewpoints, I would suggest that women be allowed to start throwing shit only after their escort flings one of his own. Unescorted ladies (should one be the sort of chap to invite such ladies to a party) must wait until all other ladies and gentlemen present have let loose.

So then, the order of play is to be host, followed by gentlemen, followed by their good ladies, and finally unescorted “ladies”. I must stress that children should not be permitted under any circumstances to join in the flinging. I find that the children (especially the younger boys) produce quite the most horrific stench from their shit and this simply will not do.

We must next address the problem of when in the proceedings the first mud can be thrown. If one divides a party into the arrival and imbibing of a light drink, the soup course, the starter, a refilling of ones drink, the first main course, another refill, the second main course, dessert, coffees, and finally brandy and cigars, then we can have an agreed structure in which to work with. Should ones party not follow such a course, then I hope that this guide is flexible enough for one to make the necessary adjustments.

I would say that it is not proper to throw shit at all until at least the end of the soup course. I realise that in saying this I will cause consternation the length and breadth of Cornwall, but picking shit out of ones soup really is a most unpleasant experience. So the first flinging should most properly be done after the soup. Should the host be serving a fruit starter, then the initial throwing should wait until after the course has been finished by all (not, as is the practice in Norfolk, once the host has finished) and before the plates are cleared away. If a non-fruit starter is chosen, shit may be thrown at any time after grace is said. At this early stage however, the throwing should be restrained to a single log per guest, and the throw should be light and playful rather than with ones full force.

I must interject once more at this point in order to clarify the procedure when drinks are being refilled. One must not under any circumstances throw shit at this point. It really is very bad form to do so as it may unnecessarily cover the butler in waste. As it is universally agreed that this is the one person who should remain untouched by shit, one can see why one must not indulge during refills.

We now move on to the main courses. By this time, I would expect a dinner party to be in full swing and ones guests should have relaxed completely. One should be on ones guard at letting matters degenerate at this point! I recently attended a party in Lanarkshire where the first shit was flung before I had taken a mouthful of my (quite delicious) Venison Foristier, with guests throwing their faeces at each other continually until the second course was cleared away. Whilst I make no direct criticism of this (everyone involved had a marvellous time) such wild abandon is not to everyone’s tastes.

I would therefore propose the following; Flinging should recommence after the host has finished his first course and is satisfied that everyone present is aware of this fact. At this point the main body of shit throwing should commence, but must only last until the last guest has finished eating! At this point everyone should be seated until the second course is served whereupon the shit throwing should resume. Upon finishing the second course, guests should once again be seated until the end of dessert.

I must be very firm about the following point; absolutely no shit should be thrown during dessert. This is a tradition that dates back to the time of William of Orange, when the Catholic populace expressed their silent hopes of rebellion by throwing shit during a dessert in which the Orange fruit featured heavily.

After dessert in concluded, I would suggest a short recess during which guests can use the bowls of warm water provided by the host in conjunction with their napkins to remove the thickest of the shit from their hands. Finally we have the brandy and cigars. By this point, all ladies present will have adjourned to the lounge, leaving the gentlemen to scrape their colons clean of the last of their waste product. This should be smeared in the face of the gentleman to the left (in deference to George II) and upon concluding, the evenings shit throwing is complete.

In finishing, I would like to say that I hope that this guide will be of use for all those thinking of hosting a dinner party and thank you all for your gentle encouragement.