A new in-your-face food phenomenon has got me feeling all nostalgic for how things used to be.

It's made me appreciate that not so long ago - certainly in my generation's lifetime - to eat in public was strictly taboo. Letting strangers see you chow down food in public was rightly considered vulgar and demeaning. Far more acceptable was the shared consumption of thrice-daily meals behind closed doors, around a table, in convivial company. So to engage in this most fundamental human activity at all hours of the day was as unnecessary as it was demeaning, for it reduced us to the same level as scavengers and wild animals.

Then came fast-food, the crumbling of accepted social mores and the rise of food anarchy. The cult of the individual grew fat on the freedom to eat when and where one wanted. Now, in our towns and cities, nobody bats an eyelid at the sight (and sound and smell) of fellow commuters noisily eating stinky takeaway burgers on trains; munching squidgy pizza as they walk around the shops; or slurping soup from a cardboard cup as they stand the queue at the bank. It's each to his own, and to hell if others are affronted by having to watch them perform.

Fast forward to February 2015, and news of further food narcissism. It's called performance eating and emanates from South Korea, but it has already gone viral so it's sure to hit our shores any time now. The idea is that people videocam themselves preparing and eating their dinner at home, allow viewers to watch and ask them to pay if they like what they see. According to a live report from an apartment in Seoul, a staggering 10,000 people per day watch one guy eating dishes such as raw squid and crab with noodles. They can message him as he eats, some asking him to turn up the sound of him eating, and offer ongoing commentary. It's reckoned he can earn seven hundred dollars in just one two-hour session.

Which is all very well for him. The big question is what viewers get out of it. According to the performance diner himself, they like the sense of companionship they get from knowing they're part of an online community. He says they like to see him eat, but they also pitch in questions about their own lives so he becomes a sort of agony uncle (and sometimes he'll dance or sing).

It sounds to me like a deeply depressing virtual dinner party where nobody actually gets to meet each other, far less taste the food in question. It's like a faux return to the conviviality of the old-fashioned dining table, though in a parallel universe where technological advances mean food is punted as mere entertainment, and only exacerbate our fundamental disconnection with it.

In Rome, Venice, Florence and Bologna eating in public within spitting distance of historic monuments is prohibited as city fathers attempt to restore a sense of respect for them while educating people in how to behave in public.

Will this noble attempt at bringing some decorum back to eating in front of strangers take hold? With the potential for performance dining to spin off into the street, I'd say fat chance.