Apologies for interrupting, my fellow introverts. I know how much you value your silence. How you despise small talk. How you break into a cold sweat at the prospect of engaging in everyday banter. So forgive this intrusion. I'll try to keep it short.

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I have magnificent news.

Just when you thought the world was becoming insufferably noisier, humanity is finally learning to shut up.

Hard to believe, I know. But according to American researchers, the average number of words we utter each day has fallen by almost 25 per cent over the past decade. The decline is even greater among younger people.

Fingers crossed, my constantly chattering daughter will soon adopt the trend.

Using audio recorders to eavesdrop on the conversations of thousands of test subjects between 2005 and 2019, researchers found the average number of words spoken daily by participants dropped from more than 16,000 words to 12,000.

This dramatic decrease has led to predictable hand-wringing among social scientists, who blame the digital world, particularly our smartphone obsession, for the decline in spoken words.

We text instead of talking. We message instead of mingling. Psychologists warn the fabric of "human connection" is fraying, that the so-called "art of conversation" is dying.

Introverts know the truth. This is a hard-won victory for peace and quiet.

Those missing 4000 words have not been stolen from deep and meaningful late-night philosophical conversations with soulmates. They have been trimmed and excised from the useless banal dialogue plaguing modern life; the inane babble about the weather, the dull chatter with neighbours, the awkward prattle with colleagues in the lift.

Small talk is dying, my friends. Feel free to celebrate this silent revolution by having a good lie down in a quiet room.

Let us praise, not criticise, the influence of modern technology. No longer do we need to pull over, ask a stranger for directions and endure their mind-numbing preambles. Google Maps doesn't scratch its chin, ask how you're going, lament the lack of local rainfall and then point north and tell you to go south before taking a left at the abandoned bakery six blocks away.

No longer must we establish painful eye contact with shop assistants at the checkout. Food apps and automated delivery systems don't ask how our day is going or care about our weekend plans. And more of us working from home means fewer excruciatingly painful discussions at the office coffee machine about footy scores and grandchildren we'll never meet.

Psychologists claim small talk acts as a social lubricant. It's certainly a crutch for dialogue drunks - those who, intoxicated by the sound of their own voice and terrified by the prospect of quietness, regard silence as an empty room in urgent........

© The Examiner