Not many grand hotels are left. The buildings are there but inside they’re so messed about, redecorated and ludicrously updated, the magnificence and grandeur has gone.

The Dorchester replaced its old Grill Room with the worst-taste dining room in London. The revamp at Claridge’s is undistinguished. The splendid dining room carved up, reduced in size and looking like an airport lounge.

The Connaught is the worst. Millions of pounds spent changing elegant period rooms into an over-hyped French brothel.

Even the Ritz, far and away the least degraded and best hotel in London, had to change its entrance from the grand, pillared frontage on Piccadilly to a side door in Arlington Street. It still has the best doormen, while the ones at the Connaught are dreadful beyond belief.

The only untouched, rampantly opulent, marble-pillared, carved stonework exterior edifice to days of wealth and largesse is the stunning Hôtel de Paris in Monte Carlo. The lobby is gargantuan, set with turn-of-the-century tables. And occasionally naughty ladies. On the right is the three-Michelin-starred Louis XV — Alain Ducasse restaurant. Gilt everywhere, painted ceilings, a mini Versailles.

On its terrace overlooking the main square of Monte Carlo and the casino, I lunched with Sir Roger and Lady Moore. There were gold plates, gold cutlery, impeccable service. Never mind what I had, it was all fantastic.

For my dessert rum baba they brought eight rums and asked, “Which one do you want?” A question too far for me. I left it to them.

I asked, “Can I start my rum baba?”

Geraldine said sternly, “No, wait until Kristina (Lady Moore to you) has had her strawberries served.” Then she commented to Roger, “I’m trying to teach him some manners.”

“Too late,” said Roger.

At the top of the hotel is my favourite eating place, the Grill. It boasts only one Michelin star, but the food is a delight. Its terrace, overlooking Monte Carlo and the royal palace, is a terrific place to sit.

I took the theatrical advertising agent Adam Kenwright, now seriously challenging Dewynters as number one in the field, and his fiancée Nina, daughter of my occasional employer Peter Wood of esure. I introduced the young lovers. If all else fails, this could be my new profession — matchmaker.

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