The British obsession with manners

Saying "please", "thank you" and "sorry" when you bump into someone might not seem like a big deal, but forgetting to is social taboo in a country that prides itself on pleasantries.

Adapting to social etiquette in the UK isn't exactly a cultural quantum leap for an Australian. After all, we already speak the same language and have a shared history. But there are subtle differences in the way Britons and Australians behave.

In both countries, politeness is appreciated, but Britons seem to take an interest in manners to an obsessive level. In Australia, if someone walks into you at a supermarket or on a street corner, you might hear them mutter "excuse me." Or, you might not, and that's the end of it. In Britain, not only will you hear a resounding "sorry!" from the person who bumps into you, they will even apologise if it is in fact you who bumped into them! People are so in the knack of apologising, that a British friend even confided that she often finds herself apologising to inanimate objects she has bumped into.

The stereotype of the abrupt, rude Londoner might need revisiting. London Underground patrons follow a strict etiquette, immediately moving to the right of escalators to let others pass, and are very apologetic if they walk in someone else's way. The only argument I have heard on the Tube so far was a lady angry at a man who tried to push past her. She wasn't annoyed because of the man's pushiness, but was irked by the fact that he didn't say "excuse me" as he was doing so. She promptly instructed him to "improve his manners".

An obsession with manners is matched by growing fears that standards of politeness are eroding in modern British society. Australians are concerned about this too, amid newspaper reports of people not giving up their seats on buses for pregnant women. In London this problem is tackled by offering pregnant women badges that declare that they have a "baby on board" in the vain hope that someone will give up their seat.

The British are concerned about the effect of modern technology on the way people interact in public. I boarded a long-distance train lately, and had to move along a person who was occupying my (reserved) seat. When he moved, the couple opposite looked relieved, and said they were glad he'd moved as he had been talking on his mobile phone the entire journey, and how rude they found it.

Successive waves of immigration has made a discussion of standards of behaviour a touchy subject, because often different standards reflect the heady cultural blend that now defines London. But a general desire to uphold manners appears to be working, as this article in the Observer, on the myth of Rude Brittania suggests. Those interviewed in a study called Charm Offensive, said civility was the single most important contributor to their quality of life.

Interestingly, the study found high levels of civility in some disadvantaged communities, and some striking examples of incivility in more well-heeled areas. A recent blog post by the Telegraph's Damian Thompson criticising Prime Minister David Cameron's manners referred to his trick of turning his manners on and off to suit his own ends. "He exhibits the calculated rudeness of people with very nice manners," Thompson notes.

Apparently this is a common trait among upper-crust toffs, Cameron and other fellow Etonians (alumni of super-posh school Eton). And it puts paid to the theory that no matter how polite you are or mindful of your own behaviour, this on its own will not command respect or social inclusion. When you are introduced to a British person, they will undoubtedly be polite, but at the same time they are sizing you up, working out which part of the social spectrum to pigeon hole you.

Class isn't supposed to matter as much these days, but it certainly still affects how people behave towards each other. People use a series of cues - such as what school you went to, where you live, what school you send your kids to, which pub you drink in. Even the use of certain words can be an indicator of what class you belong to. For example, the use of "pardon" instead of "excuse me" or "sorry" is extremely frowned upon, and casts you a number of levels down the social hierarchy. Well-bred people say they will have "pudding" after dinner, after they have visited the "lavatory" (can you even imagine that being said with an Australian accent?) whereas the lower-classes will opt for a "sweet", after they use the "toilet."

Being Australian helps you partially avoid this crude classification, as fortunately the class system doesn't appear to apply to us. But our love of egalitarianism and upholding of the "fair go" does come at a cost. While no one will care what school you went to, etcetera, you will automatically be placed in a certain area of "unclassifiables" - you might be referred to as someone from the "New World" or "Antipodean".

Now we all know that Colonialism is hundreds of years out of fashion and the British no longer feel they are culturally superior. But remnants of this Old World attitude remain. Take this theory that attempts to explain the way in which people from the "New World" - Americans, and to a lesser extent, Australians and New Zealanders - speak. Apparently the British talk more from the backs of their mouths, leading to a more muted tone, while Americans use the front of their mouths, resulting in an effect that is quite the opposite!

Not that Brits go around acting superior, but this theory goes some way in explaining how they view their colonial offspring. In truth, many have confided they use the word Antipodean not to be derogatory but because they weren't quite sure whether my accent was Australian or New Zealand. Which is fine, considering that I can't always pick up the difference between a Geordie or a Scouser, and didn't know what these terms meant before I arrived. And its a damn sight better than the American I met that claimed I had to be "either Australian or Canadian."

I've repeatedly heard that Australians are considered very "forward". I think this has to be seen relative to the British tendency to avoid using direct terms, preferring a more awkward, dithering interchange where they dance around a topic without actually broaching it. Americans, I'm told, are even more forward, and will dash up eagerly and introduce themselves at the start of a conversation, while Britons start by discussing the weather and sometimes don't get around to an introduction. Many Britons I've chatted to travelling refer to "that intense American" they met. I'm not convinced they are saying the same things about Australians, but I think they can be struck by our directness, which they can find refreshing - and not necessarily a bad thing.