Class conscious

I have made two New Year's resolutions. The first is to eat more fibre, although that's really more my doctor's resolution on my behalf. The second is to be less snobby.

Regarding this, my friends will notice a new me in 2002. For instance, I will no longer pay £15 for a Weekend First upgrade on a train if there is any seat available in Standard Class full stop. I used to impose the condition that I would sit in Standard as long as any available seat was well away from anybody talking into a mobile phone. But seeing as train travel is now synonymous with call-making - except in First, where people are momentarily distracted by free copies of the Daily Telegraph - I was forced to abandon that principle in favour of another: I would take a seat in Standard only if it was alongside somebody saying something reasonably intelligent while using a mobile phone. But this, too, proved an impossible dream. Since when has anybody said into a mobile, "Wittgenstein was following the phenomenological tradition of . . . what? I'm sorry love, but we're just going into a tunnel and you're breaking up"?

Food-wise I will never again say to anybody who happens to be blearily loading a dollop of scrambled egg on to a slice of Sunblest, "It goes a lot better with anchovies you know" (although God knows it does), and I will attempt to come to terms with Jamie Oliver. Jamie is a good cook, and a nice lad who just happens, through no fault of his own, to be the most annoying person currently alive.

Similarly, Classic FM is all right really, and I will stop acting superior when the wife tunes in. When Paul Gambaccini trails that programme on which he plays the "classic" CDs of the week that happen to have sold most (which is not at all a crass and vulgar concept) and glutinously murmurs, "Who will be top? We will find out together", I will remain silent. Why, after all, should he be assasinated just for saying that? I'm sorry: even as a reformed character I'm reverting to the snobbish, intemperate terminology that characterised my life last year.

In future, things will be different, whatever it takes.