What's wrong with plainspokenness? Why don't people -- especially those in positions of authority, responsible to their constituencies -- stop all that fancy obfuscating and say what they really mean?

Apparently, some of these folks have come around to that point of view. During one short midsummer heat wave, Miss Manners noticed the following news reports:

-- On the international scene, the Italian prime minister, speaking as president of the European Union, told the German chancellor that he was well suited to play a Nazi concentration camp leader. Then the Italian undersecretary responsible for tourism said German tourists in general were arrogant blonds, and that a particular German deputy in the European Parliament "probably grew up taking part in noisy burping contests after drinking gigantic amounts of beer and gorging himself on fried potatoes."

-- On the national scene, one member of the House of Representatives' Ways and Means Committee told another one to shut up, to which that congressman replied, "Come on over here and make me. I dare you -- you little fruitcake. I said you are a fruitcake." This followed a staged walkout, after which the chairman called the police, who set an isolated example of restraint by withdrawing.

-- On a local scene, a priest speaking at the funeral Mass for a former town councilman adapted some text from the book of Revelation and told the assembled mourners, "The Lord vomited people like (name of the deceased) out of his mouth to hell."

Miss Manners does not quite see how any of this plainspokenness made the world go around faster, unless you count its sending everyone involved into a tailspin. What followed were recrimination, retaliation and a lawsuit.

She would like to believe that these instances represented merely a seasonal meltdown. Heat does make people irritable, as we know from the number of midsummer national holidays, including our own, that commemorate successfully rash acts of defiance.

But she fears that this summer's less heroic outbursts are only examples of the trickle-up effect of the general degradation of speech. When discourse was conducted at a politer level, it was chiefly rebels and comedians who broke the rules to seem refreshingly frank and funny. However, the novelty of rudeness has long since worn off, and it no longer produces shock or laughter. Lacing argument with insult and commemoration with criticism is simply commonplace.

But dignitaries took a while to catch up, or rather down. Miss Manners considered that they might be inhibited by the notion that a dignitary should be dignified, but told herself not to be silly. There were the practical considerations: When you are in a position of authority, you need the respect, goodwill and cooperation of both your constituents and your colleagues.

Political campaigns began to get rude when the participants figured that they could impress voters with their indignation but not have to deal with their targets if they won. And, although there is considerable posturing of the kind by those in office, a cooperative form of government, nationally or internationally, requires that they not antagonize peers whose votes they may need.

But if anyone concluded that it was only safe to speak ill of the dead -- no, it isn't. Their survivors are suing.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: At a formal afternoon tea, does the server stand to the right or the left of the person he is serving? The teacup was on the right of me, but, being left-handed, I moved the teacup to the left.

GENTLE READER: Well, then, it would have been kind of messy if the server had continued to pour from the right, wouldn't it?

At private teas, the guest hands the teacup to the hostess, who is seated, so Miss Manners presumes you are speaking of service in a tearoom. In a commercial establishment, it would be considerate, not to mention safer, to move the cup to the right, where the server expects to find it, when receiving a refill.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: When referring to the relationship between two men who have undergone a marriage or commitment ceremony, is it most proper to call them "husbands," "spouses" or "partners"?

It seems as if the word "partner" is popular in referring to people who have a relationship, but have not necessarily formalized it with a ceremony. The greater level of commitment signified by the service seems to necessitate the use of a different term, much as after a traditional marriage ceremony those who were formerly "boyfriend/girlfriend" or "fiances" become "husband/wife."

GENTLE READER: Oh, no, here we go again. Even aside from the fact that everybody keeps referring to the affianced as "fiances," the terminology of couple-hood has been driving Miss Manners crazy for years.

It is true that we seem finally to have settled on "partner" to describe the parties to an unmarried living arrangement, but not without years and years of trying out icky alternatives such as "significant other" and POSSLQ (the government's idea of a catchy way of saying People of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters). "Partner" is not a great choice, as one might have law partners, business partners and dance partners with whom one wouldn't dream of going home, but at least it is pronounceable.

So use "spouse," "husband" or "wife" for both -- but no new words, please.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I make a trip to visit my grandparents once or twice a year, and this year my grandmother had gone through heart surgery. She was well upon the way to recovery in rehab when I arrived.

I was greeted at the house by Berna, my grandparents' housekeeper and an old family friend. It being a dreadfully hot summer, Berna told me that my grandmother had said I was to stay in her (my grandmother's) air-conditioned bedroom while she was away.

Miss Manners, I couldn't accept that offer. It seemed innately disrespectful for me to sleep in my hostess's bed, and I would feel ashamed and somewhat embarrassed to do so. Berna was persistent, and I managed to refuse through a combination of timeworn banter and outright pleading that I be allowed to stay in one of the guestrooms. I also refused Berna's offer to move the fan from her own room to mine.

Was I in the wrong to refuse the hospitality offered? As it turns out, the empty guestroom in which I usually stay already had a fan, so I spent my nights comfortably regardless. Please, what was the proper way to deal with the situation? Was there anything else I could have done?

GENTLE READER: Although Miss Manners is as touched by your reverential reticence as she is sure your grandmother and her housekeeper were, there is something else you could have done: You could have done what you were told.

Your idea was to avoid seeming to supplant your grandmother while she is still alive. Miss Manners' idea goes slightly beyond that to indicate that she is not only alive, but in charge of making arrangements in her own home.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: On a recent evening flight, the rows were mostly empty. I busied myself with work, and kept my nose in my laptop for most of the flight.

Once my battery had died, I looked up and around me. I could not help noticing a rather telltale set of not-very-discreet-at-all motions coming from a couple barely six feet away from me, the only other occupants of my row.

While I am hardly prudish, I was truly shocked and disgusted. Even after several pass-bys of the flight attendants, even after a few clearings of my suddenly itchy throat, the "frolicking" continued (to be a little clearer: this was far beyond the enthusiastic affections one might expect of honeymooners, for instance).

I avoided any kind of contact with them in those uncomfortable moments between landing and deplaning, and gladly went my own way after that. However, their rudeness left quite a sour pall over the rest of my evening, and I found myself really wishing I'd found something cleverly tart to say (actually, the click of a camera might have been perfect, as it seemed that exposure was their goal after all).

Usually, I prefer to answer rudeness with silence, but for such extraordinary circumstances, I still wish I'd said something on behalf of the flight crew, other passengers and myself. What is your opinion? What might you have said or done?

GENTLE READER: Miss Manners always brings a book, and never looks up. Perhaps this is just as well.

What did you have in mind? Tapping them on the shoulder -- whosever shoulder happened to appear within reach -- and asking to borrow their in-flight magazine? Expressing the hope that they were having a pleasant flight?

Miss Manners doesn't make citizen's arrests, even for indecency in transit. The only people with some authority over air passenger etiquette are the flight attendants. You might have suggested that one of them approach the couple and order them to fasten their seatbelts.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: When I went to our local indoor pool with my two young sons, a friend and her son, my friend pointed out a lady who had just arrived whose swimsuit was rather transparent when wet.

Would it have been appropriate for me to point out this reaction to water? If so, how would I go about it?

I am, of course, assuming that she was quite oblivious to the condition. However, the way she would climb onto the floating animal in the pool did not support this idea. I was not in the pool myself and she never left it. We left shortly after spotting the condition without saying a word to her.

GENTLE READER: Miss Manners is worried about the words that were said. She sincerely hopes that your friend did not point out the Totally Visible Lady within earshot of the young boys.

Whether the lady was oblivious or showing off, there was nothing she could have done about it in the middle of the pool. In the natural course of events, she will discover this herself in the dressing room and cherish the hope that nobody noticed -- or, if your suspicion is correct, that everybody did. Miss Manners considers it tactful to allow her that choice.

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