THERE’S a knack in negotiating the canapé tray that often confounds even the well-weathered partygoer and perplexes those inexperienced in the arena of mini toad-in-the-hole grabbing.

It takes the flexibility of a circus contortionist combined with enhanced instincts and a level of mental dexterity that would out-wit Stephen Fry.

Successful canapé trappers manage to sense the imminent arrival of a platter of the tiny delicacies before it has even left the kitchen.

They have perfected the precise angle of lunge needed to snaffle a Parma ham-wrapped asparagus spear without knocking the accompanying shot glass of hollandaise sauce over the waiter.

And while managing to scrobble the equivalent of a five-course meal in handy bite-size pieces, they adopt the facial expression of a five-year-old innocent.

This gives the twin impression that: 1, They couldn’t possibly have scoffed as many miniature fish and chip cones as others think they have; and 2, They haven’t really been obsessing about tasting every item on the tray of diminutive desserts.

Inept at discrete canapé trapping, I opt for the “wait to be offered” method of party food consumption. But, when a smoked salmon-topped blini does come my way, I bite down on it with confidence because I know that it is the Appropriate Thing To Do.

Thanks to the relevant section in the recently republished Debrett’s A-Z of Modern Manners, I know that I should “always try and eat a canapé in one mouthful”.

I should also “watch my timing”, and “if a delicacy looks challenging or messy, politely decline and wait for something more manageable to appear”.

Never must I “double-dip” a king prawn in the sweet chilli sauce and I should at all times refrain from replacing a used cocktail stick or “apparatus” on a tray that is still circulating the room.

Whenever there is an etiquette minefield to negotiate, Debrett’s is there – gently guiding the wayward social traveller through situations like spitting out a cherry stone or postponing a rendezvous with friends.

With this book at hand, faux pas will become things of the past. I will never again make someone run by holding open a door before they have neared the threshold or – horror of horrors – twist my spaghetti fork in an anti-clockwise direction.

Thanks to the A-Z of Modern Manners, I know to exercise moderation in perfume spraying, eat peas by squashing them on the back of my fork, purse my lips to express subtle disapproval, avoid asking people how much they weigh, place table decorations lower or higher than eye level, choose my text alert tone with care, treat bouncers with respect and contemplate insults in tranquillity.

Debrett’s has taught me not to refer to Christmas as Xmas, fall asleep in public, recklessly change channels on the gym TV, pick individual grapes off a bunch, wag my finger at a road-rager, cough at smokers, sneeze more than once in company, post unflattering photos of friends on Facebook, maintain an air of peevish irritability or send round-robin newsletters.

I know to say loo or lavatory but never toilet, sofa not settee and sitting room instead of lounge; to wear a hat for the races, a smile for the street and to avoid beachwear for office dress down days.

Once thoroughly versed in the finer points of modern etiquette, there remain few situations that would cause a Debrett’s scholar to become unstuck.

But there’s always the danger that, if others at the party aren’t among those in the know, they may mistake the neat “one mouthful” method of canapé eating for greedily shoving the whole thing in.

IF YOU’VE enjoyed this, then you can find more of Laura Davis’s weekly columns at www.liverpooldailypost.co.uk/lauradavis

lauradavis@dailypost.co.uk