What a rude bunch we’ve become. So rude that restaurateurs and pub landlords are calling last orders on customers who fail to honour their bookings.

Last-minute apologies and no-shows are becoming so widespread across the hospitality industry that upfront deposits, cancellation fees and blacklists are set to become the norm.

Not just a shame, but a damn expensive shame for small businesses that can’t afford to take the hit of losing half-a-dozen covers at short notice because your slacker friends decide they would rather stay in for a Deliveroo in PJs.

Whether I’m in for acres of white napery and cutlery heavier than a shot put or cheerful gingham cloths with freesias in a dinky vase, I love the anticipation, the getting ready, the not-eating-all-day-because-I’m-at-that-age-where-lunch-fills-me-up excitement of eating out.

During our repeated lockdowns, I dreamed of wearing proper shoes and click-clacking beyond the high street to somewhere – anywhere – serving up just about anything I hadn’t had to cook myself.

As it was, I ended up in the Faroe Islands (what can I say, it was green-lit first and I really wanted to escape my family on a girls’ weekend) at Koks, a two-Michelin-starred establishment with a turf roof and a sunny-at-3am, Brigadoon vibe.

There we ate fermented lamb, barnacle scrapings and sea cucumber that had been boiled in wine for a decade or so. It was a foraged feast for the senses, utterly memorable and so much more than the sum of its parts

Ambience is all; it’s a rare meal that can rise above – never mind eclipse – the dreary impact of a grumpy waiter (unless it’s Paris, in which case a veneer of contempt is mandatory) or lacklustre company.

Now that Britain has no shortage of good restaurants, we must learn to value them and that means respecting those who strive hard to serve great food. If a modest, non-refundable deposit is what it takes to concentrate minds then so be it, although it doesn’t make up the shortfall or the doleful sight of empty chairs.

Far better to charge for the whole shebang upfront, and then if the diners don’t turn up have glamorous seat-fillers on speed-dial who can come along and make up numbers just like they do at the Oscars.

Gordon, Heston, Jamie: get in touch. I’m free every night, I hold my knife properly and I always pay my compliments to the chef.