Is it just ME?

Or is small talk underrated?

APPARENTLY smalltalk, passing the time of day, is at risk of dying out. A recent YouGov poll confirmed that the 16 to 34-year-old generation — millennials if you like — are far less likely than their elders to talk to people serving them in shops, cabs, or hairdressers; many don’t talk casually with neighbours or at parties.

Perhaps the ceaseless, long-distance chatter of social media feels easier.

Things like supermarket self-checkout desks and online shopping are partly to blame, but some young people actively despise inconsequential chat, saying conversation should be important: political or ethical questions.

They despise talking about the weather, the late train, or even their weekends.

What a shame! Small-talk really is an art. It’s simply good manners. It sends the message: ‘I am happy to be in your company and share thoughts.’ Even if the thoughts don’t grow deep because the queue moves on or you’re in a theatre interval. Standing to one side and tapping at your phone is a cop-out.

There is no snobbery more intimidating than aloof, superior silence.

I was once marooned in the corner of a party with the late politician Enoch Powell. He fixed me with a blue glare and said in his high, strange voice: ‘I have no small talk. I speak only of great matters.’

I swallowed. ‘What shall we start on?’ ‘Ah, that is the question.’ We fell into miserable silence. But a couple of minutes on frivolities and we might have got to the great matters.

Small-talk is the oil in the conversational machine — without it, everything grinds to a halt.

So — with that thought firmly in mind — how was your weekend?

The young despise talking about the weather, the late train or the weekend. What a shame!