Reports are pouring in from the aftermath of the holiday season, and it's official: Ignored Invitation Syndrome is an epidemic.

Sure, we can scoff at old-school etiquette about salad forks and fish knives and mutton squeezers. Many of us are lucky to have plates that match and something inoffensive to put on them.

But fundamental manners, starting with saying "please," "thank you," "excuse me" or "I'm so sorry I've crushed your mums," exist for a reason. I learned this as a disastrously plain-spoken child who said things like, "I already have one of those," or "No, Mrs. Narwhal, I did not have a good time."

I was punished by having to read Emily Post's original 1920 tome "Etiquette," which I recommend as both a fascinating insight into a bygone culture and a powerful sleep aid.

I did get that the main purpose of polite behavior is to preserve people's comfort: To avoid hurting their feelings or causing them inconvenience or embarrassment. I also remember a talking-to my dad gave me about that indispensable social grace for avoiding injury to yourself and others: the Little White Lie.

Instead of "I already have one of those," you say, "What a lovely and thoughtful gift! One can never have too many air horns!"

Instead of, "No, Mrs. Narwhal, I did not have a good time," you say, "It was a delightful party, and I found the ritual torture very engaging!"

Instead of, "Like the side of a barn," you say, "No, it doesn't make your butt look big at all!"

It is polite to shield people from embarrassment. One pretends not to have heard bodily eruptions that set off car alarms. One avoids remarking on nasal exploration or unfortunate stains.

And it is every decent person's duty, for the good of the fabric of society and the peaceful perpetuation of every kind of event from booze-ups and pot lucks to wedding receptions and deb balls, TO FOR GOD'S SAKE TELL THE HOST(ESS) WHETHER OR NOT YOU WILL ATTEND.

This is the function of R.S.V.P., from the French "Repondez, s'il vous plait," or "Let us know so we can order the deli trays."

Unfortunately, the lack of an engraved invitation with a stamped R.S.V.P. card indicates to many people that they don't have to commit to any event, ever. The current practice is to respond with, "Hey, yeah ... I have to check on ... I might have a thing ... my brother's kids are ... I haven't been feeling ..." and then the craven "Yeah, I might drop by."

As a hostess, that would make me want to say, "Yeah, and I might have some food for you."

Responding to invitations is much easier now than in Emily Post's day. Her book is full of suggested letters for accepting and declining, and you should see the scripts she has for replying by phone -- to "the butler, the parlor-maid or whoever is on duty in the pantry."

It's so simple now. You don't have to talk to a homicidal butler. All you have to do is call or e-mail your friend and say, "I'm coming Sunday -- what can I bring?" or even "I can't make it Sunday, but let's do something next week." And do it before Sunday.

Of course, you may be holding out for a better offer. The glory of etiquette is that you can do that, as long as you don't admit it's what you're doing. But there's a limit. You can plausibly say you have to check with your parole officer, but you have to deliver a yes or no before party time.

It's rude to punish the host(ess) for inviting you by making him or her guess how much food to buy, how much booze, how many party hats. Also, your offhand reaction suggests the invitation is about as welcome as a religious tract jammed in your hand while you're running for a bus.

Finally, on party night, there is a fridge stuffed with three hams, a chocolate fountain and a case of beer -- for four people. Sure, those four are going to have a hell of a good time. But there was a lot of needless shopping, chopping and expense.

This is why I don't have parties. I had a few bad experiences with "I might drop by"s, so I save myself the aggravation by buying a chocolate fountain and a straw for myself.

But I tell my aggrieved hostess friends, who spend time making special dishes for the vegetarians, dieters and fussy eaters only to have them go directly into Tupperware, that there is a solution.

Don't invite them again. People who can't treat an invitation with respect don't deserve one.

That leaves all the more for me. And I bring my own mutton squeezer.