One perceptive Dutch tourist, after listening attentively to my explanation of this procedure, commented: 'Oh, I see. It is like Alice Through the Looking Glass: you do everything the wrong way round.' I had not thought of recommending Alice as a guide to English etiquette, but on reflection it seems like quite a good idea.
The 'Pleased to Meet You' Problem
In a small social gathering such as a dinner party, the host may solve the name problem by introducing guests to each other by name, but these are still awkward moments, as the decline of 'How do you do?' means that no-one is quite sure what to say to each other when introduced in this manner. 'How are you?', despite having much the same meaning, and being equally recognised as a non-question (the correct response is 'Very well, thank you' or 'Fine, thanks' whatever your state of health or mind), will not do in initial introductions, as custom dictates that it may only be used as a greeting between people who already know each other. Even though it does not require an honest answer, 'How are you?' is far too personal and intimate a question for first-time introductions.
The most common solution, nowadays, is 'Pleased to meet you' (or 'Nice to meet you' or something similar). But in some social circles - mainly upper-middle class and above, although some at the higher end of middle-middle are affected - the problem with this common response is that it is just that: 'common', meaning a lower-class thing to say. The people who hold this view may not put it quite like this - they are more likely to say that 'Pleased to meet you' is 'incorrect', and you will indeed still find etiquette books that confirm this. The explanation offered by some etiquette books is that one should not say 'Pleased to meet you' as it is an obvious lie: one cannot possibly be sure at that point whether one is pleased to meet the person or not. Given the usual irrationalities, dishonesties and hypocrisies of English etiquette, this seems unnecessarily and quite uncharacteristically scrupulous.
Whatever its origins or dubious logic, the prejudice against 'Pleased to meet you' is still quite widespread, often among people who do not know why it is that they feel uneasy about using the phrase. They just have a vague sense that there is something not quite right about it. But even among those with no class prejudice about 'Pleased to meet you', who believe it is the correct and polite thing to say, this greeting is rarely delivered with ringing confidence: it is usually mumbled rather awkwardly, and as quickly as possible - 'Plstmtye'. This awkwardness may, perversely, occur precisely because people believe they are saying the 'correct' thing. Formality is embarrassing. But then, informality is embarrassing. Everything is embarrassing.
The Embarrassment Rule
In fact, the only rule one can identify with any certainty in all this confusion over introductions and greetings is that, to be impeccably English, one must perform these rituals badly. One must appear self-conscious, ill-at-ease, stiff, awkward and, above all, embarrassed. Smoothness, glibness and confidence are inappropriate and un-English. Hesitation, dithering and ineptness are, surprising as it may seem, correct behaviour. Introductions should be performed as hurriedly as possible, but also with maximum inefficiency. If disclosed at all, names must be mumbled; hands should be tentatively half-proffered and then clumsily withdrawn; the approved greeting is something like 'Er, how, um, plstm-, er, hello?'
If you are socially skilled, or come from a country where these matters are handled in a more reasonable, straightforward manner (such as anywhere else on the planet), you may need a bit of practice to achieve the required degree of embarrassed, stilted incompetence.
THE RULES OF ENGLISH GOSSIP
Following the customary awkward introductions and uncomfortable greetings, and a bit of ice-breaking weather-speak, we move on to other forms of grooming-talk. ('One must speak a little, you know,' as Elizabeth said to Darcy, 'It would look odd to be entirely silent.')
Strangers may stick to The Weather and other relatively neutral topics almost indefinitely (although actually The Weather is the only topic that is entirely safe - all other subjects are potentially 'dangerous', at least in some situations, and all carry at least some restrictions as to when, where and with whom they may be raised). But the most common form of grooming-talk among friends, in England as elsewhere, is gossip. The English are certainly a nation of gossips. Recent studies in this country have shown that about two-thirds of our conversation time is entirely devoted to social topics such as who is doing what with whom; who is 'in', who is 'out' and why; how to deal with difficult social situations; the behaviour and relationships of friends, family and celebrities; our own problems with family, friends, lovers, colleagues and neighbours; the minutiae of everyday social life - in a word: gossip.14
If you want a more formal definition of gossip, the best I have come across is Noon amp; Delbridge (1993): 'The process of informally communicating value-laden information about members of a social setting.' This does not quite cover all aspects of gossip - it excludes gossip about celebrities, for example, unless the concept of 'members of a social setting' is intended to include film stars, pop stars, royals and politicians, which seems unlikely. But, to be fair, there is a sense in which our gossip about celebrities does involve treating them as though they were members of our own social group - our conversations about the conflicts between characters in soap operas, the relationship problems of supermodels and the marriages, careers and babies of film stars are often indistinguishable from our gossip about family, friends and neighbours - so I'll give Noon amp; Delbridge the benefit of the doubt on this point.
In fact, one of the reasons I like this definition is that it gives some indication of the range of people about whom gossipy information may be communicated, including the gossipers themselves. Researchers have found that about half of 'gossip time' is taken up with discussion of the activities of the speaker or the immediate audience, rather than the doings of other people. This definition also helpfully conveys the evaluative nature of gossip. Although it has been shown that criticism and negative evaluations account for only about five per cent of gossip time, gossip does generally involve the expression of opinions or feelings. Among the English, you will find that these opinions or feelings may often be implied, rather than directly stated, or conveyed more subtly in the tone of voice, but we rarely share details about 'who is doing what with whom' without providing some indication of our views on the matter.
Privacy Rules
In quoting the research findings on the pervasiveness of English gossip above, I am not suggesting that the English gossip any more than people in other cultures. I am sure that studies elsewhere would also find about two-thirds of conversation time dedicated to much the same social matters. The researcher responsible for the English findings (the psychologist Robin Dunbar) is convinced that this is a universal human trait, and indeed maintains that language evolved to allow humans to gossip15 - as a substitute for the physical 'social grooming' of our primate ancestors, which became impractical among the much wider human social networks.
What I am suggesting is that gossip may be particularly important to the English, because of our obsession with privacy. When I conducted interviews and focus-group discussions on gossip with English people of different ages and social backgrounds, it became clear that their enjoyment of gossip had much to do with the element of 'risk' involved. Although most of our gossip is fairly innocuous (criticism and negative evaluations of others account for only five per cent of gossip time), it is still talk about people's 'private' lives, and as such involves a sense of doing something naughty or forbidden.