Behaving Ourselves: Mitchell on Manners, review: Politeness costs nothing? Not from where I'm standing

Whatever happened to British manners? Exactly when did we rule-abiding Brits give up worrying about what cutlery to use and start texting at the dinner table?

I remember, when I was a seething teen, railing against my parents' instructions to leave my knife and fork straight on my plate. "They should be at half past six," I was told. "But whyyy?" I would wail. I never got a straight answer.

Now, in the throes of middle age, I'll happily mutter sarcastically after people who remain mute when I open a door for them ("No, thank you"), and practise my death-stare on queue-jumpers – although, on occasion, I'll leave my knife and fork in disarray on my plate because, y'know, I can.

At the start of Behaving Ourselves: Mitchell on Manners, the presenter, actor and comedian David Mitchell, briefly wondered if civilisation was falling apart. (It had to be Mitchell – surely a man who can spot a soup spoon at 50 paces.) Thankfully, he brought with him a healthy dose of scepticism, not to say a sizeable dollop of neurosis.

It turns out Mitchell ties himself in knots about how to greet people if he's met them a few times already. Should he shake hands, give them a manly clap on the back or kiss them on the cheek? He never found out for sure.

What he did discover was that there are different types of manners. There's the courtesy kind, which are all about empathy and show care for the feelings of others. Then there's the other type that was invented to make the upper classes feel important and keep them insulated from the lower orders. It might involve a dress code, or different types of cutlery or the use of language (it's a napkin not a serviette, you oik). These are about etiquette rather than manners and are, as one contributor called them, "tripwires for the unwary".

I loved hearing other people agonising over their own social conduct but also raining fury on those who had unconsciously crossed them. I loved hearing about how people were just as rude and stupid 500 years ago as they are now.

Mitchell also looked into civilising rituals, the ones that begin from early childhood. These are learned practices such as not weeing in front of others when it could be done privately, or not stabbing someone in the heart because they dared to interrupt you.

He met a primary school teacher, a women with heroic patience who related the slow process of explaining to tiny people that they are not the only ones the room, and also a bunch of 10-year-olds with whom he puzzled over the no-elbows-on-the-table rule.

My favourite contributor, was the Reverend Kate Bottley, the vicar on Channel 4's Gogglebox, a woman apparently at the epicentre of British politesse. She bemoaned having to be nice all the time. "I eat a lot of cake I don't like that I have to pretend is delicious," she said. She also recalled having her backside pinched by assorted jokers, because what could be funnier and more rebellious than pinching a vicar's bum? Her biggest bugbear, however, was people eating crisps on a train. "I actually want to punch them in the face," she remarked.

It may be terribly impolite to ask but please, Kate, will you be my best friend?

Twitter: @FionaSturges