I’ve never been someone who buys into the idea of stereotypes.

Growing up in Essex, I’m used to the “amusing” banter of the Essex girl joke which I have never quite understood, been offended by or found that amusing.

Stereotyping is such a lazy way of thinking.

My wardrobe doesn’t exist entirely of white stilettos, shiny handbags and short skirts; although come to think of it, I do have a few choice specimens.

Harking from Liverpool, also makes my husband an easy target for stereotyping ridicule.

How amusing it would be if he actually did wear brightly coloured shell suits to accompany curly hair and a moustache. He didn’t grow up stealing tyres and telling everyone he met to “calm down”.

Equally I don’t have nail extensions, a fake tan and bottle blonde hair. (Actually, scratch that last one!)

One of the advantages of meeting so many different people is realising that it is rarely possible to second guess what someone is all about and virtually impossible if you’re relying on appearance only.

As a profession, us dentists are given a bad rap. Often the picture is of a middle-aged man, who is personality deficient from a career spent talking to an open mouth which springs to mind.

Days spent inflicting pain and spare time spent playing golf and partaking in expensive holidays whilst simultaneously managing to bore everyone socially with lectures on flossing and the advantages of an electric toothbrush.

I hope I don’t fit into that stereotype, at the very least because I can’t see the point of golf and am – up to this point – a female, heading slowly (but extremely elegantly) towards middle age. Chav is a stereotype that pains me the most.

A phenomenon of the past 10 years and a word used primarily as a disrespectful and derogatory way for the aspiring middle classes to look down their noses at anyone who is not on loyalty points at John Lewis or wears a baseball cap.

A friend of mine told me recently that her daughter wanted to dress up as a chav for a competition at school but wanted to know exactly what the oufit would entail. Surely the mother was missing something here.

By enforcing an image to a young child, divides are created that give the child the message that they are better than others.

What next, sending your children to a fancy dress party dressed as a fat person or someone with disabilities? There are plenty of people I know who contribute seemingly nothing to society but feel that they have the right to sneer at others based on their choice of dress; even though it would be hard to imagine a more arbitrary system for assessment.

Maybe I should have invited the “friend” to just take her pick from anything in my wardrobe and see if she registered the slightest flicker of embarrassment. I like a joke as much as the next person, political correctness is not something I am renowned for, but I don’t look down on people.

Or up for that matter.

Life is too short to feel either superior or inferior to anyone. If we must use stereotypes, let’s try to use some positive ones.

I don’t care whether you shop in Aldi or Waitrose, whether you’re a dustman or a brain surgeon and tracksuits and pin- striped suits are all the same to me.

Time to ditch the stereotypes I say.

If we treat everyone with the same amount of respect, it’s amazing what interesting people you suddenly meet.