A rare carouse in a louche Glasgow wine bar one night last week was enchanted briefly by a nervous proposition. The stranger had approached me gingerly from the side and asked if I was gay, straight or bi. He was young, beautiful, immaculately groomed and thin as a packet of condoms. “I’m straight, as a matter of fact,” I answered in what I felt was my deepest Glaswegian timbre.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” he added politely. “Absolutely not; you’ve made my night,” I replied. “May I ask you a question in return?” I asked. “Go right ahead,” he replied.

“What was it that sparked your interest?” “Well,” he said. “It’s just that you’re wearing a pink shirt; you’re sipping a French martini and your legs are crossed.”

This is not the first time an encounter like this has occurred in recent years. After each one, I have fretted over what ought to have been the most appropriate response in such situations. Some people are blessed with an instinctive liberalism that allows them to glide through the ever-changing landscape of modern manners without giving offence. Others, perhaps a little older and usually white and male, can experience difficulty in adjusting their footing to keep up with these intricate manoeuvres.

It’s not that they are ignorant or lazy – on the contrary; they aspire desperately to say and do the right things – it’s just that they can, on occasion, be a little clumsy and maladroit at finding the appropriate words in unfamiliar situations. I fall into the latter category.

For most of our adult lives we lived a monochrome existence in which morals and social mores were well signposted and came colour-coded in either black or white.

Raised awareness of issues around feminism, sexual identity, the environment, ethnicity and multiculturalism have given a voice to many who had previously been denied one. The response by many on the right is to group these under the collective heading Political Correctness Gone Mad.

A more human approach might simply be Live and Let Live.

We possess good intentions, yet find we are let down in unorthodox situations by a form of social dyslexia

There is no user’s manual available for those of us who aspire to be liberal and possess good intentions yet find we are let down in unorthodox situations by a form of social dyslexia.

Nevertheless, in a spirit of shared humanity rooted in sympathy for my fellow aspiring but clumsy liberals, I offer the following short extract from my Good Liberals’ Guide to Modern Etiquette.

It is based on my own experience and the shared testimony of others who have reached uncertainly for the right words and yet found themselves shunned and resented.

Transgender journeys



You may have found that an increasing number of people are embarking on a transgender journey. This is a good thing as the misery of feeling trapped in the wrong body must be almost unbearable. Please avoid asking “So how’s your journey been so far?” or “Are you near the end?” as if it were a day-trip to Girvan.

Instead, show interest and don’t interrupt. Do not say: “One of my friends is on a similar journey” because you’ll probably be lying.

The vegan daughter



The young folks’ increasing knowledge of where we source our food has led to many of them embracing veganism in disgust at the vile practices and unhygienic methods that are often involved in getting farm animals on to our plates. When your daughter announces that she is a vegan, please, under no circumstances, make Spock’s famous split-fingers sign from Star Trek. Instead, listen politely; make a mental note to Google vegan restaurants, and say you’ve heard that a lot of tasty curry recipes are vegan.

The c-word



Look, let’s be mature about this: everybody likes a good swear now and then, and as Moses is reputed to have said to Aaron in one of the as-yet-undiscovered Dead Sea Scrolls, an elegantly deployed profanity is a blessing to us all. Now some enterprising feminists have reclaimed the c-word. And, indeed, in some west of Scotland taverns the term is often used to express admiration. “Tam’s a good...”

There is, though, a risk of becoming desensitised to all this bold new use of the word. I would advise caution and stick to old standards such as bastard, bawbag, dickhead and tosser.

The racist taxi driver



Admit it – we’ve all encountered these wretched characters. There you are merrily WhatsApping away in the back of the cab when your driver insists on having a debate about Brexit. “I don’t know about you but I voted Leave,” he says. “We’re letting too many immigrants in, and they’ve declared sharia law in Pollokshields.”

As an aspiring liberal, you know what you want to do. You want to tell the racist bawbag where to go. Instead, you try to give him a meaningful stare and pretend to have a conversation on your mobile. I’d suggest waiting until you are within walking distance of your destination and tell him to stop, then disembark while studiously refusing to give him a tip. He’ll get the message.

Heavy rock



One of the most challenging dilemmas for the aspiring-but-not-quite-there-yet-liberal male is reconciling a love of AC/DC, Black Sabbath and Ted Nugent with a desire to be empathetic and sensitive to feminism. Songs such as Whole Lotta Rosie and Cat Scratch Fever can cause embarrassment when they crop up on your car’s iTunes as you’re giving your daughter and her pals a lift into town.

I tried telling them once that Bring Your Daughter to the Slaughter was a thoughtful warning about what can happen if a father fails to play a significant role in his daughter’s life. They weren’t buying it. Have a playlist handy for these occasions with fey acts like Sohn or the Chemical Brothers or that George Ezra.

I know these are just baby steps, but it’s a minefield out there.