Blokes, no wonder you’re confused. To be honest, I’m a tad perplexed myself.
When I was young, and chivalrous dinosaurs roamed the Earth, the rules of politeness were pretty straightforward. Hold a door open. Give a lady a seat. Walk on the road side of the pavement. Help a woman on with her coat.
Apparently, over the last few decades, someone has shifted the gallantry goalposts.
Seven months’ pregnant Jo Swinson, our current equalities minister, put unisexknickers in a twist on both sides of the PC divide last week when she had to stand for twenty minutes during Prime Minister’s Questions as no-one offered her a seat.
One of her team later suggested that to vacate a chair for a pregnant woman would be sexist – although Jo later retracted the sentiment. The sheer nonsense of this just compelled me to pause and sigh like a Jane Austen heroine in front of a large puddle.
Navigating the rules of equality is now more challenging than rewiring a plug with one hand.
In our post-millennium society, where does courtesy end and sexism start? And how is the next generation of men supposed to understand the nuances of gender politics?
I’m bringing up two boys who are about to hit the teenage years.
When they were small, basic manners were a priority: say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’; don’t interrupt when adults are speaking; ask to be excused from the table after eating dinner.
Not that it was always easy. When Low the Younger was a toddler, he developed a liking for the word okay, leading to a daily exchange of:
Me: ‘Say “please”.’ Him: ‘Okay.’
Me: ‘No, not “OK”, “please”. You have to say “please” if you want something.’
Him: ‘OK.’
Me: ‘No, “please”. Not “OK”. Say “please”.’
At which point I’d sigh wearily and pass over all my worldly goods to make it stop.
As they grew up, I added a few more requirements under the heading of Consideration For Others.
They’ve been taught that they should hold open a door for anyone coming behind them, and always offer their seat to a woman (pregnant or not) or an elderly person of either gender.
Incidentally, when it comes to a mother-to-be or anyone born before me, I do the same. In the case of the former, it’s empathy, in the case of the latter, it’s the ghost of my meticulous granny ordering me to give up my seat or there’ll be no 5p packet of Refreshers from the shops on the way home.
My sons also open the car door for me if they’re there first, help me with heavy bags, and occasionally hold my Primark parka while I slide into it. Their dad has always done the same and I do appreciate it. It’s nice. Kind. Thoughtful.
So, gents, be assured that some of us do still welcome common courtesy.
To those MPs who let a seven months’ pregnant woman stand while they hogged the benches? Next time, get on your feet and have some manners.
And if that offends either side of the PC brigade, please feel free to report me.
I’d suggest a stern letter to the equalities minister. Hopefully, she’ll be sitting down when she reads it.