Sticks and Stones, Insults and Double Standards.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.”

It is an old saying, but it contains an interesting truth: everything is relative. What one person considers an insult, another might regard as a compliment. One man's freedom fighter is another man's terrorist. One man's rubbish is another man's treasure. And, apparently, one man's insult can be another man's badge of honour.

The real question, therefore, isn't simply what someone calls you. It is whether the description is true, and perhaps even more importantly, who is doing the calling.

Consider the extraordinary difference between being called “John Williams from Skipton, a dangerous paedophile” and being called an “evil incel.” These are not remotely equivalent accusations. One is an allegation of serious criminal conduct; the other is a pejorative description based on the word incel, meaning involuntary celibate, with “evil” added for good measure.

If a statement about someone is demonstrably false, then naturally they may object to it. But there is something particularly revealing about people who appear perfectly comfortable dishing out insults while becoming extraordinarily distressed when the same treatment is directed back at them.

That is where the principle of double standards enters the picture.

Some people seem to operate according to a peculiar rule: I am entitled to mock you, ridicule you and call you names—but you are not entitled to do the same to me. They can dish it out with enthusiasm, yet apparently cannot take even a teaspoon of their own medicine.

The irony becomes even greater when somebody who routinely engages in personal attacks suddenly treats an insult directed at themselves as though it were a national emergency. Yesterday it was supposedly “just banter.” Today it is harassment. Yesterday they were exercising free expression. Today somebody else exercising precisely the same freedom has apparently crossed an invisible line.

That is not principle. It is selective outrage.

Personally, I don't take particular offence at being called something I am not. Being called an “evil incel” doesn't magically transform me into one. A stranger's description of me does not alter reality. If someone calls me a Martian, I don't suddenly develop green skin and start looking for a spaceship.

What I find more interesting is the hypocrisy of someone who seems perfectly happy throwing insults around, but becomes deeply agitated when those insults are returned.

If you believe insults are acceptable, then accept that other people may have the same opinion. If you believe mocking people is legitimate, recognise that mockery is a two-way street. If you believe you have the right to call somebody names, don't be astonished when somebody else exercises precisely the same right.

Freedom of expression cannot sensibly mean “freedom for me, but consequences for thee.”

Of course, there are limits. False allegations of serious criminal conduct are a different matter from ordinary name-calling, and nobody should confuse a childish insult with a substantiated fact. Calling somebody an “idiot” is not the same thing as falsely accusing them of a serious crime.

But that distinction is precisely the point.

Words have different meanings, different consequences and different levels of seriousness. Context matters. Truth matters. Intent matters. And so does consistency.

Ultimately, perhaps the best response to a childish insult is not to have a nervous breakdown over it, but to ask a much simpler question:

If you can't take it, why dish it out?

Because when the playground bully suddenly runs to the teacher complaining that somebody has called him a name, the hypocrisy is rather difficult to miss.

Sticks and stones may break bones.

But apparently, for some people, words only become weapons when they're pointed in their direction.