There are some women who possess the kind of effortless elegance and air of accomplishment that makes the rest of us feel undone, untidy and, well, inadequate.

I met one such creature recently after being seated beside her at a ritzy business event. Here was a woman whose dazzling CV was matched only by her appearance: expertly highlighted hair, immaculate make-up and a razor-sharp designer suit. All accessorised with self-assured tales of her own professional triumph.

By comparison, I felt like a frump.

Until, that is, later that afternoon, when I nipped to the ladies’ and spotted her there. Touching up my mascara in the mirror, I saw her emerge from a cubicle, eyes glued to the phone in her hands.

And, just like that, the illusion of superiority splintered into a thousand pieces. What I saw instead was someone who indulged in the one habit I find more repulsive than any other – scrolling on the loo.

Admittedly, I gave a secret cheer; suddenly her aura of intimidation had disappeared as she tumbled down my mental pecking order. Still, I couldn’t help but be surprised that someone so polished could think taking your phone into the toilet is acceptable.

Digital addiction is so profound these days that 60 per cent of Britons admit to using their phones while sitting on the loo, according to a recent survey (picture posed by model)

Yet, concerningly, she’s far from alone in this repulsive habit. It seems we live in an age where digital addiction is so profound that 60 per cent of Brits admit to using their phones while sitting on the loo, according to a recent survey.

But are we really so incapable of performing basic bodily functions with only our thoughts for company that we must indulge in this revolting behaviour? It’s something I would never do. Why would I?

Putting hygiene to one side, I don’t want – or need – to be glued to my screen at all times. If anything, I want a break from it. It’s the same reason I bristle when phones are placed on the table at the start of a meal like an extra piece of cutlery.

I can’t stand the dismal idea that sitting down to share a meal with real people isn’t absorbing enough – that somehow, the phone promises something more rewarding, interesting and diverting (even when it hasn’t buzzed or bleeped).

As for the specific hygiene issues of taking your phone into the toilet, studies have repeatedly shown that mobile devices taken into bathrooms are teeming with bacteria.

So that mobile phone you press to your cheek or, in the case of this woman, later put down on the table next to my – my! – dinner plate, may well be harbouring E.coli and other nasties. (Who can say they ever clean their phone?)

We wouldn’t eat food off the bathroom floor, or wash our faces with toilet water. So why is there this collective blind spot when it comes to phone-toilet etiquette?

One reason could be that phone addiction is now so widespread that it’s destroyed any sense of taboo.

Indeed, some people may even see it – consciously or otherwise – as a kind of badge of honour; a signal that they’re so busy, so indispensable, that they can’t afford to be separated from their phone for even a minute, lest the world collapses in their absence.

Angela Epstein was horrified when she spotted a woman she met at a ritzy business event – who seemed to exude elegance – coming out of a toilet cubicle with her phone in her hand

Or, at the other end of the spectrum, perhaps it’s driven by anxiety – a fear of missing out.

But these are explanations –not excuses. Ultimately, what underpins such lousy behaviour is the rising acceptance of bad manners.

What happened to the days when we washed our hands before sitting down at the table or didn’t talk with our mouths full? For that matter, what happened to the days when a trip to the toilet was announced by gentle euphemisms like ‘spending a penny’, or ‘powdering one’s nose’?

I’m sure there will be those who claim I’m needlessly squeamish, and that research has shown there are far filthier places than the loo (kitchen sponges, shopping trolleys, remote controls and more).

But this isn’t just about the lack of cleanliness. It’s about what disappearing into that cubicle should represent –namely one of the most private moments of our daily lives. And how even this is now invaded by the outside world in the form of scrolling social media. What’s next? Video calls from the cubicle?

So can we please go back to a time when the toilet was used solely for its intended purpose – and the only call being answered there was the call of nature.