You might have seen Sean Davoren. He’s been on the telly (on ITV’s fly-on-the-wall series The Savoy), and he’s probably been in your imagination too – as the perfect butler from a bygone age. At first blush, only the rich Irish lilt differentiates Davoren from the literary archetype: he is the perfect gentleman, has impeccable manners, and is warm – incredibly so – on another bitter London day.

But Davoren is no cookie cutout. He tweaks your mind, makes you think about things you never had cause to before. “Men are much better than ladies at polishing their shoes,” he says. Are they? “Oh yes. Have you ever seen your wife polish her shoes?” Erm, no, come to think of it. “You see. Ladies have so many pairs for start. But it’s just not something that ever comes into their mind, polishing them.”

Perhaps this is the wisdom of experience. Davoren has been butlering for nearly three decades – latterly of The Lanesborough, now of The Savoy – and he is now a senior manager, albeit of the hands-on variety. He leads a team of 26, and his biggest management challenge, he says, is making them gel. “It’s a lot like putting ingredients in a stew, you put a little of that in and another bit of this and you hope it comes out well.”

Guests and requests

He likes to lead by example, he says – “I would never ask anyone to do anything I wouldn’t do myself”. And, at The Savoy, that covers rather a lot. Although Davoren refuses to entertain the suggestion that some requests are a bit odd – “nothing is strange to me, your preference is your preference” – some things are, by most measures, outlandish. He recalls one guest that asked for unpasteurised wild goats’ milk. “We sent a chauffeur to a farm in north Wales to buy it,” he says. “The milk cost £3.50. The chauffeur cost £650.”

Despite the weird requests, eccentric guests, and illicit sex found behind its elegant doors, The Savoy somehow manages to stake a strong claim to being the calmest space in London. It is astoundingly serene. “Your tea has been steeped for three minutes,” the waitress says, sotto voce, placing four miniature mince pies on my table. “Do you take milk first or tea?” I can’t remember. Tea? Is that right? Whatever, she pours and glides away. “Most hotels in London are good,” says Davoren. “We are excellent. You see, people come to hotels for the service, nobody has 50 staff like Downton Abbey anymore.”

Military operation

To see butlering as glorified room service is, says Davoren, a mistake. “Room service put food in your room; we are your personal assistants.” His butlers are in guests’ rooms at least twice a day, making sure everything is cued-up. “If a gentleman doesn’t have any work shirts left, we launder them, iron them.” And for women, it’s back to shoes. “The stiletto heels they wear – they have an awful habit of scuffing them.” Personal shopping, tour guiding – even jewellery loans for a special evening – are part of the butlering package. Is there anything they won’t do? “We will do anything as long as it’s legal,” says Davoren. My curiosity is as delicious as the mince pies, but Davoren is too discreet to satisfy it. “How do I know whether the lady you are with is Mrs Ben?” he asks. “I would soon stop anyone in my department who was talking about somebody. When someone comes to the Savoy, their room is their home.”

He is a strict man, he admits. “We run the butlering here like a military operation,” he says. “That’s not because I’m a dictator – because everyone of my team is respected and valued – but it just has to run like that. I’m not easy to work for, but I’m a fair person. I’m a bit charismatic and I have a sense of humour. I guess I’m like a father – I treat my butlers like my family.” And, crucially, this benign patriarch enjoys it. “I’m not servile to anyone,” says Davoren. “I choose to serve.”

To find out how to run a luxury hotel the Sean Davoren way, click here