Sir, you are standing far too close to a market stall selling T-shirts to be heading in the direction of Chapdom. A true Chap would steer well clear of such an establishment, especially one that sold a T-shirt bearing various styles of moustache.

Secondly, something has gone awry with the creasing in your hat and it needs urgent attention from a competent milliner. Lastly, someone seems to have crushed your horn-rimmed spectacles, rendering them a ridiculous and unappealing rectangular shape. This requires immediate attention from a competent optician.

Buying a round of drinks for the local cabbies is a noble and constructive thing to do, for you may need their services one stormy night. However, in terms of your dress code, we suggest you spend a little more time in the downstairs privy and less time in the bar.

This is more along the lines of how a count should comport himself. The built-in champagne cooler is a nice touch, the lack of headwear perfectly excusable under the circumstances.

A real count, doorbell accessory or otherwise, would not wear a cardboard topper, an ill-fitting brown jacket with the pocket flaps tucked in and no pocket square, paired with black trousers, a poorly furled umbrella, a clip-on bow tie, wellington boots and a pipe without any tobacco in it. He would also have a more interesting dog.

Mr. Raczynski-Henk, we have no idea what these paperwork days are that plague us all from time to time, but we can certainly attest to your being upon the right path towards being a chap, not least by having invested in a bespoke suit (one can tell from the floppy fabric that it is not a vintage item; well-constructed nonetheless). You might have had turn-ups put on the trousers, to co-ordinate better with your co-respondent shoes, but still, an excellent start, sir!

We would be quite happy to pass on Christopher Vincent’s kind offer of a trim and a shave at Murdock London to Master Bentley – but what would be the point? Once that piece of carpet had been removed from his face, Mr. Bentley would still have appalling, ill-fitting clothes, a plastic pipe and his trousers would still be undone.

Sir, that is extremely gracious of you and we initially wondered whether we could pass this gift on to Christopher Bentley. However, we then decided that it would be extremely unfair, and indeed ungentlemanly, to inflict him upon you.

Simplicity is the key here: you both appear to be quite simple. There is far too much beige between you for a couple under the age of 70; your shirt is three sizes too large; your trousers are clearly of a jeans cut; you appear to wearing some form of plimsoll/shoe hybrid; your hat is made of cardboard and your buttonhole belongs in a window box.

What kind of theatre were you popping out to, dressed in country tweeds? Theatre of the Absurd?

Yes, er, ‘Hi’ to you too. There seems to be some confusion here. The fellow who pinched your cap was entirely in the right, and any of us Chaps would have done the same. Can’t have you giving us a bad name, old stick.