16 signs you’re more ‘common’ than you think, according to an etiquette expert

Hot tubs are considered a ‘bit naff’ by etiquette expert William Hanson. Photo / 123RF
Etiquette expert William Hanson clears up the meaning of “common”.
The verdict is in: Lady Glenconner has declared fish knives are dreadfully common. Speaking at the Cheltenham Literature Festival earlier this week, the former lady-in-waiting to Princess Margaret declared the offending cutlery item is a telltale sign of one dreadful thing: being, ahem, middle-class. And that, dear reader, is common.
William Hanson, the author of a newly released book, Just Good Manners, explains: “Fish knives were introduced in the late Victorian period, when the middle classes expanded with people who had disposable income, but weren’t from an aristocratic background. The Victorians invented stainless steel and the fish knife. The school of thought was that if you owned a set, you had bought your own cutlery rather than inheriting it.”
“Common,” he adds, “can be defined in different ways, but it really means being overly mainstream or a bit naff.” And unfortunately, fish knives are just the tip of the iceberg.
Here, the Telegraph speaks to Hanson about other signs a person is “common”.
“A tie clip itself is not common,” explains Hanson, “but it’s all about where you position it. If we look at what the King does, and what the Duke of Edinburgh did, they often use a nappy pin to hold their tie to their shirt. They had it positioned where the jacket fastened, so you can’t see it. What you now see, particularly on Good Morning Britain, is presenters wearing a tie clip so far up it’s almost like a bit of jewellery.” And it was, of course, David Cameron who, in 2012, declared: “Gentlemen don’t wear jewellery.” Thus the tie clip is “suspect”, depending on where you position it, says Hanson.
Liquid soap, says Hanson, has its own class system: “I think within the three strands of middle-class, there’s a liquid soap scale. Baylis & Harding, which is the knock-off Molton Brown, is considered quite lower middle-class, whereas Molton Brown is middle-class. And then Cowshed or Christian Dior or Hermes are upper middle-class. I wouldn’t say any liquid soap is upper-class, though.”
“It signifies poor time management and personal standards,” declares Hanson. “It’s American; what used to be the subway culture or McDonald’s culture. And sadly, so much of our behaviour is copied from America. When eating, you sit down at a table.”
“There is this concept of ‘hold the knife like a pen’, where someone is not holding their knife with the finger going down the knife. That is still considered common,” Hanson explains. “I would also just say it’s just common sense to hold it like a knife as you actually have more security on what you are doing.”
Anything bigger than a 46-inch television is “suspect”, Hanson advises, especially “massive 100-inch televisions”. Even worse if it is wall-mounted, he adds. “There’s a lovely picture of the Princess Royal’s sitting room during the pandemic. Her television is antiquated, like no television you ever see now, but in many ways terribly smart. It shows that you’re not really that interested in television. Which itself is quite chic, though we all watch television.”
“The exception would perhaps be lipstick, because Queen Elizabeth would apply lipstick sometimes,” says Hanson, “though not on important occasions. She wouldn’t be at a state banquet doing it.” But applying mascara on the tube is, Hanson says, “quite down-market. Any grooming in public is not good because grooming is a private thing.”
In recent years, the drink has moved into the ranks of the blatantly middle-class. “Such a shame, because it’s such a lovely drink when done properly,” says Hanson. “There are too many variations: [such as] rhubarb and blackcurrant-flavoured gin, which is disgusting. Just good-standard London gin is all you need. With a good ice cube, a decent glass, a slice of lemon and tonic water.”
“Gin balloons, which are now very popular in pubs and restaurants, defeat the point. The shape of the glass doesn’t hold the bubbles of the tonic and all the ice comes rushing towards you like an icy smack in the face. You just need a heavy bottom, delicate rim, and a good, decent glass for gin and tonic.”
“If you’re doing an Italian-themed menu, then it’s fine to serve prosecco, because that’s Italian champagne,” explains Hanson. “But if you really want champagne but you either can’t afford it or there isn’t any, that’s when choosing prosecco becomes common.”
“Common and very unhygienic,” declares Hanson. “I wouldn’t eat anything bigger than a breath mint.”
“It’s okay if you are the King or the prime minister, but if you are Mr and Mrs Smith from number 42, you just look provincial,” says Hanson. “In America, they call them vanity plates. I think that’s a better description for them.”
“Going to someone’s house for dinner, having a nice time and then using Zoopla or Rightmove (the NZ equivalent would be OneRoof) to see how much they bought the house for is common because it’s to do with manners, and to do with money,” states Hanson.
“There are few accusations worse one can level at someone than that they own, or that they aspire to own, a hot tub. You’re just getting into a Petri dish of filth whilst microscopic chunks of their epidermis flow past,” explains Hanson. “I’ve never got in a hot tub,” he adds.
“Victoria sponge, lemon drizzle, fruit loaf, chocolate cake, carrot cake and Battenberg are socially acceptable cakes,” explains Hanson. “But not weird creations like tray bakes, which is really something that you might expect to do at school in home economics.” Showstoppers are also “so common”. And the word “bake” when used as a noun.
Trainers are common, says Hanson. And bad news for those who wear Adidas Sambas: you are, according to Hanson, a “wannabe chav”. “The trouble is, when something is adopted by everybody, you’re following a crowd,” he says. “It’s unimaginative and there’s absolutely no effort. A nice-quality leather sole shoe is a lot more comfortable because leather moulds to your foot.”
Though family portraits are fine, problems arise if you buy a random portrait to put in your house, explains Hanson. “If someone asks who your ancestor is in the painting, and you say, ‘I have absolutely no idea. I just bought it from an antique shop’,” that is, according to Hanson, blatantly middle-class.
Avoid in all possible instances.
– Additional reporting by NZ Herald.