There are many ways to see London at its finest. Sunrise over the Thames. A quiet stroll through Hyde Park. Champagne at The Ritz. And then there is the alternative: emerging from a Mayfair hotel at 8.17am wearing last night's shirt, desperately searching for coffee and trying to remember exactly how your evening with one of London's more glamorous London escorts became breakfast time.

Welcome to the London Walk of Shame.

Except we're not calling it that anymore. Shame implies regret, and you had an excellent evening. This is the Stride of Questionable Decisions, and like everything else in London, there is a right and a wrong way to do it.

Rule One: Never Look Like You're Sneaking Out

The biggest mistake is attempting to become invisible.

You know the walk. Head down. Phone out. Suspiciously fast pace. The expression of a man who definitely wasn't wearing that shirt twelve hours ago.

Stop it.

Walk through that hotel lobby like you own a small but profitable chain of dental practices. Nod politely at reception. Hold the door for somebody. If there's a newspaper available, take one. Nobody carrying the Financial Times at 8am has ever made a bad decision.

Hotel staff have seen everything anyway. You are not even making their top 20.

The Sunglasses Question

Sunglasses can rescue the situation, but timing is crucial.

July? Absolutely.

Bright April morning? Fine.

Grey November Tuesday with rain bouncing off the pavement? You now look considerably more suspicious than you did before.

The objective is discreetly handsome man returning from an interesting evening, not minor celebrity being escorted from court.

Find Coffee Before Attempting Major Decisions

Do not immediately start analysing the previous night.

First, caffeine.

London is wonderfully forgiving in this respect. Whether you've emerged in Mayfair, Marylebone, Chelsea or Kensington, there will usually be somewhere nearby capable of supplying coffee and something involving eggs.

Order breakfast. Sit down. Charge your phone.

Only then should you address the difficult questions, such as why there is a cocktail receipt for £146 in your pocket and whether ordering tequila at 1.30am was really necessary. Perhaps the evening started innocently enough with one civilised drink somewhere like The Connaught Bar. London has a remarkable ability to turn that sort of plan into something considerably less civilised.

As for the tequila?

It wasn't necessary.

It never is.

Check Yourself Before Entering Public Transport

Before approaching the Tube, find a mirror.

Hair: acceptable?

Shirt: approximately where it should be?

Any nightclub stamps still glowing on your wrist like evidence from a police procedural?

Most importantly, check your face.

A gentleman who has spent an evening drinking in Soho or enjoying the company of Escorts in London should aim for pleasantly tired, not recently rescued from a hedge.

Know When the Tube Is Not Your Friend

The Underground at 8.30am is one of Britain's great social levellers.

On one side of you is an accountant heading to Canary Wharf. On the other, a woman answering emails with terrifying efficiency. Between them stands you, smelling faintly of somebody else's expensive perfume and wondering where your belt went.

This is where money should occasionally be allowed to solve problems.

Get a cab.

Yes, it's £31.70. Yes, the Central line costs a fraction of that. But the Central line also contains approximately 900 people who showered this morning.

Never Send the 8am Essay

Your phone is now charged. Dangerous.

Do not start sending enormous messages about what a brilliant evening it was. Nobody wants six paragraphs beginning, "I don't normally do this, but..." before breakfast.

If you spent the night with someone you met socially, a simple message later is enough. If your evening involved an London escorts agency, then the beauty of the arrangement is that nobody needs a relationship summit over WhatsApp while you're standing outside Pret.

Keep your dignity. Keep it brief. Get home.

Accept That London Has Already Seen Worse

This is perhaps the most important lesson.

London doesn't care.

At 9am, this city contains people coming home from night shifts, people going to work, tourists who have already photographed Big Ben 47 times, gym fanatics carrying suspicious green liquids, bankers, builders, students and at least one man in Soho who apparently hasn't been home since Thursday.

Your slightly crumpled shirt is not an event.

Even if you've spent the night drinking champagne with glamorous busty escorts, dancing until an irresponsible hour or simply discovering that "one quick drink" is London's most persistent lie, the morning after follows roughly the same formula.

Water. Coffee. Sunglasses if meteorologically defensible. Taxi if necessary.

The Golden Rule of the London Walk of Shame

There is only one truly unforgivable mistake.

Going directly to work.

Don't convince yourself you can pull it off. You cannot.

Your colleagues will know. Karen from accounts will know before you've even taken your coat off. By 10.15am she will have reconstructed approximately 80% of your evening from your shoes, your coffee order and the fact that you've suddenly become very interested in avoiding eye contact.

Go home. Shower. Change. Drink some water. Invent a dentist appointment if circumstances require creativity.

Then step back into London looking respectable, refreshed and completely innocent.

After all, a gentleman never explains where he's been.

He just remembers to charge his phone before he goes there.