Are Brits a bit mucky and too careless or carefree when compared with their sparkling, skin-cleansed, bacterial-bashing German cousins?

I ask because a friend of mine, at a meeting near Frankfurt for a German school trip to the English sea-side town of Hastings, described scenes of hysteria among parents fearing their children were going to be exposed to countless dangers stalking the British bathroom.

Some parents took the view that little Ella, Claudia or Joachim were being dispatched to the equivalent of the African bush without basic washing and sanitation services.

The teacher resorted to showing a picture of a British bathroom to calm panic-stricken parental nerves.

Not so smart, with the British loo and bath seen as akin to a toxic waste tip, full of unknown biological weapons perhaps worse than those of mass destruction allegedly held by Iraq’s Saddam Hussein in 2003.

Okay, so let me put my hands up, washed or otherwise, and say I have no idea if bathroom hygiene is higher in Deutschland than the British Isles.

But I do know there seems to be greater attention to cleanliness and avoiding mystery microbes here in the Vaterland.

Even in mid-Winter, snug and dreamy-warm in bed, I have been exposed to the girlfriend’s first act on awaking: namely to open all the bedrooms windows to air the room and avoid the build-up of mold, an organism I have never thought of since my school-days of petri dishes and chemistry classes.

I have no idea how the mold — assuming mold actually contemplates such matters — feels about winter windows being opened and a Siberian wind howling around the skirting board.

But I am invariably left teeth chattering, duvet dragged over my head, kicking off the odd imaginary penguin and trying to avoid life threatening flu or worse.

I have often been recommended by German friends to wash my face and hands at night, because of the potential dangers of a build-up of bacteria and other filthy things during the day — and sometimes I actually do it out of politeness.

And yes, some friends here have recommended (initially to my astonishment, and that of friends back in ol’ Blighty) that I should not pee standing up because I might miss and increase the risks of (yes, you guessed it) mold-formation in the bathroom.

Even though, as I say so myself with all humility and humbleness, I have an accuracy rate of ‘The Englishman’ sniper, played by the suave, steely-eyed Edward Fox in the 1973 film The Day of the Jackal.

And even though, as most research shows, it is the fridge that houses the most bacteria and mold in an average home whether people stand, sit or swing from the chandeliers to pee!

Before I move on from the toilet, another quaint habit in Germany which I have never encountered in the UK is the obsession by some to keep the lid firmly shut when not in use.

Here again, I have had my occasional tussle with German friends demanding I slam the thing down after availing myself of the services, and dirty, feral looks like I am a caveman if I don’t!

Perhaps it’s mold again, free-floating in the air, ready to manically and sinisterly chuckle and giggle as it colonizes the basin — I have no idea!

For some British parents, dispatching their little ones to Germany, it is apparently not fear of mold that tops their concerns but fear of food, or to be more precise, lack of food.

An English headmistress recently urged parents and their offspring to be more assertive when offered seconds at dinner or a slice of cake in a German home.

Apparently British schoolchildren have been returning from two-week school trips in a semi-starved state.

Why? Because of British over-politeness or cultural nuances. If Brits are offered food, moldy or not, there is a tendency to pretend we don’t really want it.

‘No thank you, I couldn’t possibly….I am absolutely stuffed’ or ‘ but perhaps someone else would like it’—none of which is true, its just a cultural norm, a game if you will.

But a big mistake in Germany — this millisecond of delay, this hint of ‚oh, I couldn’t possibly’ is construed by the host Mutter as ‘nein’.

The food is whipped away in a second leaving the visiting pupil aghast, tummy still rumbling, and eventually returning home like an Oxfam poster.

More mold anyone, fancy another slice of fungi?