Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not usually in the business of tutting at shoes. I’m not the keeper of the brogue, nor the patron saint of patent leather. But when a man hosts a dinner at his own three-Michelin-starred restaurant to celebrate the newly knighted Sir David Beckham, and turns up in a tuxedo paired with gleaming white trainers — well, I start to wonder if the world hasn’t finally gone mad. Now, of...










