How not to be common

Serve plonk in decanters, don’t sing Happy Birthday — and NEVER EVER send Christmas cards like Elton’s. Sparklingly witty etiquette tips from David Tang, the legendary society host who died this week

FUN. Mischievous. Kind. Wise. Tycoon Sir David Tang was mourned by high society this week after his death from cancer aged 63. A friend called him ‘one of those rare people who cheers the world up’. Apart from business interests, he was the Financial Times’s agony uncle, dispensing advice on style and etiquette. He adored dogs, hated flip-flops and said there was ‘nothing more irritating than mediocrity or stupidity’. Here, MATTHEW BELL compiles a selection of Sir David’s peerless advice . . .

GRUESOME CARDS & GHASTLY SPOUSES How to write a thank-you letter

I HAVE a very simple rule about writing any thank-you letter: never use the words ‘thank you’. Or at least not until the very end. This simple rule will force the writer to think a bit about what to write . . . On the whole, you will find that avoiding those two hackneyed words will make the letter much more interesting, or at least less pedestrian, because the writer is then diverted to mentioning observations and experiences.

On sending and receiving Christmas cards

MY WIFE and I long ago became too lazy to send Christmas cards, in the hope of receiving fewer. But it hasn’t happened. We get loads . . . There are always the common few who do not write anything in their cards and send them with stamped signatures, like Elton John (just as one thought of showing it off on one’s grand piano).

On the whole, it is simply not worth keeping any card without one’s name inside. Otherwise, I keep all the funny ones and mostly the ones with photographs of ugly children or ageing parents or, thankfully, dogs . . . But at Epiphany [January 6], the whole lot is tipped into the waste paper basket.

What to do when your friend marries someone you loathe

I HAVE several friends who are married to ghastly spouses. It’s easier when your friends are male because at least you can then contrive to have business lunches and meetings and games of poker with them, and avoid their wives.

But it is trickier if your friends are female, because the ghastly husbands may think you are trying to have an affair with their wives (which might even be the case).

Then the cunning thing to do is to pretend by ingratiating yourself to the husband, so that he grows to like and trust you, and won’t mind that you see his wife. This approach is based on the inscrutable tactic that ‘if you can’t beat them, then beat them just as they think you are going to join them’!

NO PYJAMA PARTIES When to arrive

IT’S inconsiderate of guests to arrive late, especially for sit-down dinners, which really require being served together ab initio [from the start] without any empty chairs.

But we also know that on arrival there is always a lot of chit- chat and milling around. So if asked for 8pm, it is not too bad to arrive at 8.10pm or 8.15pm. I would often do that . . . because I find chit- chat tiresome before sitting down…

In India, the Middle East or Spain, sit-down dinners don’t really occur until 10.30pm or 11pm and I never formally accept them, or I ask if I could attend in my pyjamas.

What wine to drink

OF COURSE one drinks what one serves as host. Generally no decantering except in two circumstances: first, if your dining room is sufficiently grand and there is a fair bit of silver on the table, and everyone is being served; or, second, if one is serving plonk, in which case decanters could be used as decoys for the plonkiness of the vino.

Never drink what is brought. This is because using a bottle of wine from one guest, or different bottles of wine from several guests, would mean guests drinking different wines, which would not only be confusing but also unfair if there is a qualitative differential . . .

Young people, who are more used to ‘bring-a-bottle’ parties, should just drink whatever they can lay their hands on.

Choice of guests

THE secret of a successful dinner is not to let it drag on. And make sure you always have one surprising guest: someone amusing such as Nigel Farage, Monica Lewinsky or Diane Abbott.

And when to leave

I ALWAYS warn my dinner guests that by 10pm I will be ready for bed and therefore I announce in advance that I don’t like a lingering dinner party. And if I go to others for dinner, I also ask if I can leave by 10pm. It’s much easier to be brutally blunt upfront so hosts and guests know one’s practices . . .

I asked three couples for dinner at 7.30pm and told them we would promptly sit down at 8pm and leave by 10pm. Exactly that timing occurred, and because we knew we had limited time, we wasted no time in having the most animated of conversations . . . We should all concentrate more on timing for dinner parties, rather than dresses and table settings.

A BASH WITH CLASS How to give one on the cheap

ALWAYS go for ‘ bring a bottle’. That’s fair for everyone and you can top it up with whatever extra bottles you can buy. The main attention should be on providing a space with tables and chairs and not an empty space just for dancing. Seating on small round tables creates a cabaret atmosphere.

Get some loud and familiar music going. I like DJs who are not too clever: the standard Beatles and even the Carpenters or ABBA are always good. All the old hot tracks like I Will Survive or YMCA guarantee a flowing group of dancers.

And no overhead lighting. All lights must come from sconces, uplights or table lamps. Bring in sausage rolls at about 10pm . . . when people begin to feel famished.

Why men should learn to dance

THERE is no man on earth who is more elegant than Fred Astaire (right) when he dances. His bones seem to bend with the music, his limbs meandering effortlessly in and out of the staves. For this reason, I think all men should try to learn ballroom dancing, or at least master the basic steps of the waltz, cha-cha-cha and the jive.

After all, dancing is very much a tribal activity and good exercise to boot. Perhaps at school, children ought to be taught to dance as part of the syllabus — better than social studies or graphic design.

And we would then appreciate all the more Billy Elliot and the ballet, as well as the maddeningly enjoyable Strictly . . .

Deal with drunk guests

THE sooner you get them out of your house, the better. It is so tiring talking to people who are tight because they keep repeating themselves and never pay attention to your questions.

DINE, DON’T WHINE On annoying waiters

WHEN waiters lay napkins over customers’ thighs, they are doing something offensive to me. Or when they interrupt my conversation to ask if I want ‘still or sparkling’ water, which is the most annoying question one could be asked.

On singing Happy Birthday

IT POLLUTES the sound of the restaurant and lessens the enjoyment of other diners. Besides, the tune is excruciatingly mediocre and far too effeminate for men . . .

It’s crass, especially when done in a chorus with everybody pretending to be excited . . . and cheering around a cake with weeny candles. The whole charade, played out day in and day out for years on end, is deeply depressing.

On dividing the bill

THIS IS a question about ‘ going Dutch’, whose origin comes from the Netherlands where farmhouse doors are always split in half. Hence the assumption of equal proportion. But the rule does not disallow any individual of the group to spend more than the average.

Indeed, the rule might even suggest one would be stupid to be abstemious. So you cannot blame the person who ends up ordering more extravagantly than others because you could have done so yourself.

You must either put up with the final bill and admire the cunning member for getting more than her ‘fair’ share, or shut up.

IT’S COOL TO BE SHADY When to wear sunglasses

LORD LAMBTON [ the Tory minister forced to resign from the Heath government over a sex and drugs scandal] never removed his sunglasses and, as he was someone with a supreme sense of style, I’d follow him.

Mind you, there was a medical reason why he always wore dark glasses, yet he never explained it to anyone. It would be even better

if others were to think the reason you don’t take off your shades is a medical one and not bad manners.

I notice that the Queen never takes off her shades — and I am sure she wouldn’t expect one to either.

The protocol for matching a tie to a jacket’s pocket kerchief

THERE is nothing smart and everything unimaginative about matching a tie with the pocket handkerchief. It’s a con by the tie maker to make you spend more by buying matching items. Mix and match is always the moral high ground in sartorial elegance.

Learn from the Prince of Wales. Show your wife his immaculate sense of a good tie and pocket handkerchief, which never match.

IN TUNE WITH STYLE What to hang over a fireplace

IT IS exceedingly common to hang a flat screen television over a fireplace, and doubly naff if it were to be a working fireplace. Imagine a roaring fire — one of the most warming and comforting aspects to enhance a room — being distracted immediately above by vulgar advertisements in between mindless games and soaps or violent movies.

A flat screen above a fireplace also anchors it as the centre of gravity of the room, which says a great deal about the wanton relegation of books and conversations that are still the very linchpin of modern civilisation.

Is a white grand piano ever OK?

I CANNOT think of anything more unacceptable . . .

You can only have a white piano if you were Liberace or John Lennon, because they were both over the top — Liberace with air-conditioning in his garden through which he walked in his sequinned white tie, and Lennon going around naked with his Yoko Ono and hanging a Dali above his lavatory.

Otherwise, pianos should be black, preferably a 9ft Steinway.

BOXING CLEVER Havana cigar heaven

A CHINESE billionaire once asked me what was the best box of cigars I’d ever had. I boasted that I was the proud owner of an exceedingly rare box of 25 ‘Flying Pigs’ by H Upmann.

He immediately said he would like to buy them off me. I said they were not for sale. He said everything was for sale. I protested that this box was not for sale.

He insisted and asked me how much I wanted. But still I resisted and said that no amount would induce me to part with them.

He then offered me $100,000 for them. Without the blink of an eyelid, I seized his right hand by force and said ‘ Done!’ He paid me straight away with a cheque and I reluctantly handed over the box, which he had not even seen.

He opened it, took two out and snipped off the ends of both with a cutter . . . We lit up and smoked them there and then.

It was the most extravagant thing I had ever done.

Sir David’s ‘perfect day’

I’D WAKE with Julie Christie in Doctor Zhivago. No, I’m kidding! I’d wake up with my wife and our Jack Russell and Westie between us.

I would put on some virtual goggles and see myself jogging briskly for three miles, either in Tokyo at dawn or around Alnwick Castle in northern England.

Then a robot shower, which would involve getting into an enclosed space and having everything else done for me.

I would have breakfast with steamed kidneys in congee [an Asian rice porridge], served with oil sticks [breadsticks] and hot soy milk, while attempting The Times crossword.

I’d then go for a high pheasant drive ( Larches at The Lakes, Somerset) and a fast partridge drive ( The Bowl at Linhope, Northumberland). I’d have elevenses on the cliff atMulgrave, overlooking Whitby where Dracula was famously washed ashore.

Then I would sit and read in the reading room of the London Library, or watch some Strictly Come Dancing.

For lunch, I would choose the rooftop at the Danieli in Venice. My guests would be Marco Polo, Michelangelo, Pope Alexander VI and Caravaggio.

Afterwards, I would smoke a Punch Double Corona at the Cuban National Ballet School in Havana, while watching an exercise class and drinking a double espresso.

In the afternoon I would walk around the grounds and inside the Temple of Heaven in Beijing, perhaps the world’s most perfectly built building.

Tea would be in a Pullman train from the good old days, when a sumptuous afternoon treat was served on a proper tablecloth and teas were brewed with builders’ strength.

Then I’d watch the sunset on Malibu beach with Taylor Swift humming and dancing nearby.

At twilight, I’d have a chilled and spicy Clamato juice from London’s Harry’s Bar, remembering my dear friend Mark Birley, its founder.

I would then have dinner at the Kronenhalle in Zurich with Beethoven, Albert Einstein and Mia Farrow. Before bedtime, I would sit through Brahms’ Op. 118, played live by Hélène Grimaud.

And so to bed.