Social Mores: Though prone to dangerous presuppositions on the subject of footwear storage - "Your shoes will, of course, already have shoe trees" - and puzzling declarations on the (to some) questionable merits of tissue paper - "one of the marvels of our age" - Robert O'Byrne, the author of this pragmatic guide to modern mores, is very sound on the sheer ghastliness of other people's children.
Being professionally well mannered, he does not state his case too bluntly, of course, but it does not require particularly close reading to get some sense of the very qualified welcome ill-behaved youngsters can expect chez O'Byrne.
"They are inclined to think that whatever subjects interest them . . . will be just as fascinating for everyone else," he says, warming to his theme. "Worst of all, they suffer from a combination of short attention span and a weak grasp of irony." I don't think I have seen it better put.
Elsewhere, O'Byrne, a respected writer on art, fashion, lifestyle and more besides, defies the frightful modern enthusiasm for "family friendly" eating establishments by suggesting that parents should not bring their offspring to restaurants. Hear, hear!
Other deserving targets include those morons (my word) who insist on blocking the aisles of aeroplanes when stowing their luggage, Visigoths who go to the cinema principally to eat saturated fat from cardboard buckets and the owners of vehicles remodelled to accommodate amplification systems more powerful than those used by Def Leppard.
He might also have mentioned families who spread themselves across escalators, thereby leaving no space for less-encumbered single people to get past. An entire chapter could have been devoted to those taxi drivers who seem to regard a combination of icy silence and non-committal grunting as an invitation to drone on about the inequities of the taxation system. And why so little about correct behaviour in queues? Is there anybody more infuriating than that fellow who, on finally reaching the cash point, appears only then to realise what it was he was queuing for and, smiling nonchalantly as if he were not really an emissary of Satan, begins searching for his card. Gosh, the modern world is dreadful.
Of course, Mind Your Manners is intended as a guide to good behaviour rather than a compendium of the various social atrocities the author has observed through the years. Within its covers you will find useful advice on what gift is appropriate for what circumstance, tips on how to behave at assorted formal events and a few examples of the extraordinarily diverse uses to which scented candles (second only to tissue paper in O'Byrne's affections) can be put.
But barely a page goes by without mention being made - usually in the form of a terse imperative urging the reader to behave otherwise - of yet another sick-making manifestation of contemporary yobbishness.
Yet somehow O'Byrne, whose temples I have not observed closely enough to report if they throb with repressed fury, maintains an equable tone throughout this amusing book. Indeed, he seems to live in a blissfully ordered world where people still post (not e-mail) thank-you notes and where the rude are to be pitied as much as abhorred.
That benign planet is perhaps best represented by his description of how the perfect guest room should be appointed. Ziggurats of towels, neat stacks of postcards, back issues of the Economist and, most delightfully, flasks of whiskey greet the weary visitor.
It is not stated, but I suspect this blissful haven should ideally be positioned some distance from the nursery.
Donald Clarke is a critic
Mind Your Manners. By Robert O'Byrne, Sitric Books, 240pp. €14.99
