Matt Heath: Having good manners reflection of parenting

Sometimes I feel jealous of people or children with no manners, writes Matt Heath. Photo / Thinkstock

Teaching my children to be polite is a priority for me.

I went to see Interstellar at the movies last week and loved it. It's 2001: A Space Odyssey but not boring. The only downside was the 14-year-old sitting beside me. He wrongly thought he was smarter than the film-makers and chatted smugly through the opening 10 minutes.

I raised an eyebrow and stared at him. He kept commenting. I elbowed his arm off the arm rest. He kept commenting. I told him to "shut the f*** up" and he stopped.

Boys will be boys. I was a dick at his age. My friends and I used to go to the movies and throw Snifters at bald men's heads. But this kid was there with his dad.

What kind of father lets his son talk in a movie?

I'm a pretty easy-going parent. I don't care if my two young boys play video games all day, watch scary movies or drink litres of sugar for breakfast. What I care about is politeness. In my house if you don't say "please" you don't get fed.

It's the way I was brought up.

My parents loved manners. We weren't allowed to speak at dinner unless spoken to, no food was consumed until Mum picked up her utensils, and things got nasty if your elbows touched the table.

Etiquette is burnt into my brain.

As a result I get angry when friends don't place their knives and forks with the handles at 5 o'clock pointing toward 11 o'clock, blade inward, fork tines down at the end of a meal.

People who talk with their mouths full, clench their knives or point with food on their forks, piss me off.

Thanks to my fine upbringing I consider most of my friends disgusting animals.

Admittedly some table manners don't make sense. As my 5-year-old cleverly pointed out "a fork is a shovel so why do I have to balance peas on its back?". Good question. One I didn't have to answer because Buzz had spoken at the table without being spoken to. So I sent him to the naughty cupboard.

It's a cycle of domestic politeness.

Sometimes I feel jealous of people with no manners. If I didn't know that reaching past someone to get the salt is wrong, it wouldn't annoy me.

I blame his dad. By allowing rudeness he's setting his son up for a horrible fall. Logically speaking, collecting your condiments for yourself should be considered polite. You're not troubling a co-dinner for your own gain.

I've been taught it's rude so I hate people who do it. This can make life complex.

However, strict table manners can also be fun. My siblings and I weren't allowed to tell tales at dinner which meant I could throw peas at my sister Imogen when Dad wasn't looking. In return she would secretly pour salt in my milk. I would fight back by dumping mashed potato on her lap. She'd punch me in the face and get sent to the kitchen. Good times.

Etiquette is complex but it will give your child the upper hand in life. Employers never say "Hire that guy -- I like the way he talks with mince dribbling down his filthy face".

That's why I make my boys chant rules on the way to the movies. "Sit up, shut up and don't rustle packets in the quiet bits".

When Chip was 4 he jumped up on his seat during The Dark Knight to act out a fight scene. It was his third offence so we marched him out and went home.

I felt terrible. I still do. The poor boy couldn't believe he was missing the end of the film. He was depressed for days but he's never misbehaved in a movie since. Well, not while I've been around anyway, which is really the point.

Ultimately, I don't blame that annoying Interstellar-ruining turd. I blame his dad. By allowing rudeness he's setting his son up for a horrible fall. One day a politeness obsessed person will pour a litre of Coke over his head before shoving a chocolate dipped icecream in his smug face. When that happens it will be the father's fault, not mine.