Unless he’s on a beach or lounging by a pool, is it ever acceptable for a man to walk around in public with no top on?

As far as I’m concerned, the answer would be no. The flabby, shirtless middle-aged bloke I saw traipsing around a DIY store on Saturday afternoon was particularly unacceptable.

Even in the city centre, a sunny day often means a parade of sweaty male torsos. In some countries they would be told to put a shirt on, so why not here?

There’s nothing like a bit of sunshine to get the great British public exposing rolls of flesh and scoffing burgers al fresco. Just as we go to pieces when it snows, closing schools and panic buying salt, we lose our grip in the sun, too. Because we don’t see it very often in this country, people tend to go ga-ga at the first sight of it. It’s like there’s an unspoken agreement that, if the sun is shining, everyone has to dress as if they were an extra on Benidorm and spend every waking hour trying to get a tan.

As well as several shirtless blokes wandering the streets at the weekend – and we’re talking either pale, puny pigeon chests or chubby man-breasts covered in pink sunburn and turquoise tattoos – I also spotted flip-flops, shorts, strappy dresses and the particularly stylish combination of vests with leggings.

And since it’s practically the law that on a sunny day we have to crank up the barbecue and fill the neighbourhood with clouds of smoke and the aroma of burned, battery-farmed meat, countless supermarket trolleys were piled high with burgers, baps and beer.

As the early April sunshine has shown, we’re a nation of predictable sun-worshippers. If the sun is out, we insist on unpeeling layers of clothing and sitting out in it all day, even when it becomes uncomfortable, sweat is dripping, and our shoulders are scorched and sore.

I enjoy a walk in the sunshine, but, as someone with fair skin who has suffered agonising sunburn in the past, I can’t see the appeal of sprawling out beneath the beating sun for hours. Since orange skin has become a fashion statement, and it now seems to be socially acceptable for people to wander around the shops dressed for the beach, it’s perhaps no surprise that malignant melanoma cases have tripled in people aged 15-34 since the 1970s, as revealed by Cancer Research UK.

Noel Coward once sang that only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. I just wish those Englishmen would pull on a T-shirt first.