‘People who like Celine Dion are people, too,’ has to be the best tweet of the last couple of weeks. It was referring to a New Yorker article about Carl Wilson’s Let’s Talk About Love, which has just been reissued by Bloomsbury. Wilson delves into his own snobbery and ultimately takes an open, inclusive approach to artistic tastes and values.

Of course, it is easy to understand why we shouldn’t judge others, but it doesn’t stop some of us… Natasha was invited to join a canal boat trip by a group of expats last weekend. ‘They were geeky but a really nice, friendly bunch,’ Natasha said. ‘As welcoming as a church group, but slightly cooler than an InterNations crowd. You should join the boat next time.’
‘No thanks. I saw the pic of them that you were tagged in on Facebook,’ I said, rather unkindly. Even more childishly, it has become a running joke between Hot Danish and me (‘shall we invite Natasha’s new buddies?’).

At a Dutch wedding last year, I spotted three late-30-somethings giggling over a sneaky pic that one of them had taken of a guest’s hobbit-like sandal-clad feet planted firmly in long grass. It reminded me of my teens with two of my oldest friends.

Now that we enter more sophisticated environments than our childhood school cliques (one hopes), we’re more sensitive to our own and others’ insecurities. So when we share our own childish snobbery with friends, we’re also sharing a secret – that our meanness won’t be revealed to those whom we’re making fun of. And if word does get out, it might be wise to quote Marilyn Monroe, ‘Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than boring.’