Good manners make men out of boys

Do you chew with your mouth open? Then you’re not an invite.

Do you burp loudly after shovelling the nosh down your throat, leaving gravy stains dribbling down the chin? Unless you’re part of a species adhering to this unsavoury habit and believe it’s good manners, rather stay at home and belch, even chew the cud like cows, to your heart’s content.

Speaking with your mouth full turned my normally placid dad into a monster spewing fire and when chowing curried mince, the flames enveloped the whole table.

My abhorrence of these habits stems from my upbringing in a home where good manners ruled, despite having to scrape and save to have mince, wors and pap on the tomato box table. And bread dipped in gravy made from Bisto borrowed from the neighbour was a luxury. See, impecuniousness was no excuse for emulating porkers and beasts of burden.

Table manners had their own vocabulary. Words like “please”, “thank you”, were inviolate, and if not used in the right places, triggered a klap around the earhole.

“Pardon me” got you off the hook if you belched or passed wind accidentally. Okay, the latter sent you to the loo whether or not you cleaned your plate.

Sadly, those words have become redundant. The new generation is unaware of their existence.

Piggish behaviour has become the norm. Diners are so busy on their phones (had my dad been alive, he’d probably fling them down the long drop).

Admittedly, there were some ridiculous rules brutally enforced. Like leaning your elbows on the table while using a fork for picking.

Like a pugilist coming at you from his corner, my dad rushes up, sideswiping your winged arms in one movement.

Still cannot understand why it’s infra dig to relax your arms on the table. They’re out of harm’s way – unless I’m missing something.

The silence rule was another foisted on us kids. Supper was served around seven – just in time for WWII news coming from an antiquated valve radio. If we as much as whispered while my dad had his good ear glued to the set, a thunderous “Shut up, and get out!” had us running for cover.

But, the good still outweighs the bad. Hey?

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