From Fitzroy’s Private Diary (Extract 184)

A Gentleman must wear a hat. It’s a rule in polite society. It’s no more acceptable for a man to go around bare headed than it is for a woman to go around without a corset - garment I, for one, have always hated for, a) it conceals the truth, b) it inflicts a peculiar kind of torture on its wearer, and c) it’s damn well difficult to get off when one is caught in the throes of passion. They’re nothing less than assassins of amorousness.

Hats are, of course, quite different. A gentleman’s hat adds - if he chooses wisely - a dash of sportiness, a spot of mystery, or a flash of charisma. The very best hats do all three. However, being employed in the espionage business does, on occasion, making the wearing of hats a chore. I mean, when one’s officially entering a house, or going to an evening dance, one hands over one’s accoutrements to the butler or houseman to look after (its only when indoors that it’s acceptable to be hatless). A pause upon entering an establishment - to ensure everyone sees the dashing nature of one’s head apparel - should be followed by a flourish of removal. Then, one should turn to the servant, showing one’s best side if possible, and flaunting the exposed hair on one’s head. If one is follicly challenged, the hat is best removed in quieter, more private surroundings. One feels for the gentleman who plummets from dasher to dotage by the mere removal of his topper, but it’s still better than wearing a toupee.

However, as a spy, I have to run from time to time. I don’t mean flee the country, but physically run. At night I can always use a flat cap to cover my head, which won’t stand out if I need to duck into a pub. For running during daylight hours, a bowler is best, as these have a suction-like adherence to the scalp (although it’s not good for the locks). Unfortunately, the old bowler is becoming rather passe, and almost every other kind of head apparel tends to show a dislike of quick movement, ending up on the ground, or worse still, in the gutter. I can’t tell you the number of times an enemy of the state has deprived me of a fine hat.

Women, of course, have hat pins. There are no hat pins for gentleman. However, I’ve recently designed my own version in the form of a discreet clip. Were it not for the secrecy of my occupation, I believe I could market it and become even richer than I am.

It really does tickle me that, in this particular instance, I literally keep my own genius under my hat.