AN INSPECTOR CALLS

His mission: To test hotel hospitality to the limit

WE’RE sitting in the gorgeous art deco-style America bar of t he newly opened Beaumont hotel when John Cleese and what appears to be his daughter come through the swing doors. ‘That’s his wife, not his daughter,’ says my wife.

Then Stephen Fry arrives. No one bothers Cleese or Fry. No ghastly here-I-amwith-a-celeb selfies. Her Maj Angelina could walk in without causing a stir. It’s not that sort of place.

What we have is gilt-edged glamour, superb service, outrageously comfortable beds, terrific food, wines that start at less than £20 a bottle — and a doorman called Darvin who represented St Lucia in the high jump at the London Olympics.

‘I didn’t make it to the final, though,’ he says, after kindly pointing out a single yellow line where we can park.

The Beaumont used to be a car park. Then along came Chris Corbin and Jeremy King (The Wolsey, The Delaunay et al) and now it’s a 75-room hotel and probably the hottest ticket in town.

The genius of The Beaumont is that you feel it’s been here for ever. It’s grand but not stuffy, with a distinctly Twenties Anglo-American vibe. No one can walk in here and not feel better about themselves, , indeed, about life in general. We are booked into a classic room, which is the cheapest, but still expensive — £395 with continental breakfast.

It exudes quality, albeit of a masculine variety. Marble and chrome bathroom, fabulous lighting with proper switches, mirrors and black and white photographs from the Twenties and Thirties.

One t hi ng is missing, especially at these prices — a bath. But everything else soon assuages this grievance.

The restaurant is called The Colony. It features a New York hot dog (£9.50), a chicken pot pie (£15.50) and a veal chop for a whopping £38. We order judiciously and manage to keep the bill to just over £100, a bo bottle eo of wine e included.cu e ‘I could do with three nights here,’ says my wife.

Me, too, ideally in a room called Room, which is the suite created by artist Antony Gormley. That will be £2,250 a night to you, Sir.

The frill-free, but impeccable, attention to detail continues at breakfast.

My croissant is the puffiest and loveliest ever, the jam sublime.

A young man at a nearby table looks as if he’s being interviewed for some job or other. He’ll get it for sure, because The Beaumont says ‘yes’.

The Beaumont Brown Hart Gardens, London W1K 6TF Tel: 020 7499 1001; thebeaumont.com Doubles £395 (with continental breakfast)