Hooray for new snob rules
Once seen as vulgar, there is now no shame in greedily embracing the sanity-saving possibility of a ready meal from time to time. Chuck in some extra veg and a salad for health and you don’t even have to hide the packaging in the (recycling) bin. Stick with the classics though, such as moussaka, lasagne and fish pie. Avoid anything that’s too conspicuously gone through a focus group – “pulled” meat or “fusion” anything is not for you. There is a much-quoted saying that suggests a man who finds himself travelling by bus at the age of 30 should consider himself a failure. Paaah. It’s positively smart these days to eschew the limo (how naff) for the bus, bike or train. Frankly, we have entered an age when an Oyster card carries more social cachet than a black Amex. When British aristocrats married wealthy American heiresses in the early 20th century, it wasn’t just their healthy, outdoorsy genes these fine fillies brought with them, but newfangled ideas about plumbing and the expectation of warmth while indoors. Some British people still view with nostalgia the days of “characterbuilding” houses heated only by slightly damp fires and a burning sense of superiority. My own father maintains to this day that central heating in bedrooms is terribly wrong and can only lead to acts of gross moral turpitude. (Here’s hoping.) But baaah, humbug, to that. Turn up the thermostat, cast off the extra five sweaters and embrace the lifeenhancing possibilities of being able to feel your toes. Do it. It really is fine. Obviously choose your audience: probably not evensong, unless you attend one of the terribly try-hard modern churches, and possibly not your work appraisal, unless you’re at some new-media startup where they probably have a quota for that kind of thing. But otherwise…
The most important thing is that the swearing should be entered into sparingly, deliberately and energetically. Nothing too grotesquely anatomical, but the right word at the right time in the right place is an absolute f---ing joy. There is nothing more mimsy than a swear followed by: “Pardon my French.” Commit. Spare us from the armchair sanctimony of those who claim never to have watched a single moment of
or It doesn’t imbue you with special holy powers or give you smart cred. It certainly does not make you a fellow of All Souls. When life is tough, the lure of is strong. And that, thank goodness, is absolutely fine these days.