The Etiquette Police

I rarely comment on news items, but I’m sure those of you not dwelling beneath stones can’t have failed to spot this story in the media this week:

Now the “mother-in-law from hell” aspect has been dissected to death, and by more eloquent scribes than moi, so I won’t dwell on it.  Save to comment that I personally have a wonderful mum-in-law and thankfully no similar firsthand experience to report.

Expanding away from the story slightly, what struck me was the entrenched, utterly British obsession with class and etiquette.  Not wishing to bashBritain, but what other country in the world has such screwed-up priorities when it comes to so-called wrongdoing?  You can commit all manner of despicable crimes, but put your elbows on the table, or take a second helping of dessert (or “pudding,” or “sweet” – I am clearly common as I am not sure of the correct terminology), and World War Three erupts.

Now I despise rudeness as much as any right-thinking bod.  I have manners and morals – attributes not always shared by the so-called “upper” classes, who have been getting away for centuries with behaviour far more heinous than holding a knife and fork incorrectly. 

Message to Heidi: run, girl!  Run for the hills.


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