The TV drama series Mr Bates vs The Post Office has had such impact because it suddenly humanised a widespread miscarriage of justice which had been reported on with seemingly little public outcry for at least a decade.

Instead of dry court reports, documentaries and articles, millions of viewers could see, acted out, how the devastating and false charges of dishonesty destroyed the lives and livelihoods of the sub-postmasters and mistresses.

Hundreds of people were directly affected but the drama offered up a hero and a villain: Alan Bates, who has doggedly fought for his colleagues over two decades and Paula Vennells, chief executive of the Post Office from 2009 to 2019, when the abuses were at their worst.

Any drama needs lead characters but it is perhaps a uniquely British trait that popular reaction to the shocking revelations has concentrated on what titles they should and should not receive from the honours system.

Well over a million people signed a petition demanding that Ms Vennells should lose her CBE.

In the face of unbearable pressure, including from the prime minister, and facing an investigation by the Forfeiture Committee, she gave it up voluntarily last week.

A rather smaller number, in the tens of thousands, backed the “Honour Alan Bates” petition by the weekend.

But the pressure is on him in the other direction, to accept one.

Once again Downing Street weighed in saying it would be “common sense” he should be recognised.

Mr Bates previously turned down an OBE, a lower rank in the British Empire Order, so long as Ms Vennells had the higher Commander of the British Empire.

Now he says “if anyone chooses to offer me one, then come back and ask me”.

Honours – from the humble MBE, Member of the British Empire, all the way up to Knights and Dames – are in the sole gift of the monarch, known as the “Fount of Honour” in this context.

They are usually only awarded on the recommendation of the prime minister after various sub-committees have considered nominations and requests.

Since 1997, peerages conferring seats in the House of Lords for life have been formally separate from the system.

Apart from automatic appointments for some Church of England bishops and judges, they are political appointments in the gift of the prime minister and party leaders, even when those accepting peerages opt to be non-aligned.

These appointments are the greatest pieces of patronage open to the prime minister and the only honours with a potential cash value.

Peers get a vote in a law-making chamber and can claim a basic £342 for every day they attend parliament, plus some travel and accommodation expenses.

Honours are intended to give people recognition “for their valuable service and contribution, perhaps to charity, to the emergency services, or to their industry or profession”.

Some recipients or the organisations they work for eagerly seek nomination for awards.

John Major told a parliamentary committee that dealing with such requests was one of the most unpleasant aspects of being prime minister.

Others rule themselves out.

Those who have rejected honours include Rudyard Kipling, Graham Greene, David Bowie, Nigella Lawson, Jon Snow, LS Lowry, John Le Carré, Claire Tomalin, Michael Frayn, John Cole and David Dimbleby.

Reasons vary. Some, including French and Saunders, say they see no reason why they should be honoured for doing what they enjoy.

Others, especially journalists, have qualms about being rewarded by the establishment they are supposed to be holding to account.

The author Graham Greene, like some others of the most distinguished in British society, held out until tempted by the most exclusive honours.

Greene accepted membership of the orders in the gift of the monarch alone: the Companionship of Honour (65 members) and the Order of Merit (25 members).

Honours lists have increasingly become celebrity hit parades, sprinkled with actors, pop stars, and TV personalities for the amusement of the masses.

The system and the recipients have also been embarrassed by subsequent revelations – as the Conservative Baroness Michelle Mone is discovering.

It is hit and miss whether those caught up in controversy lose their honours – unless, like Ms Vennells, they surrender them.

Most at risk are pillars of their profession who are subsequently disbarred or businesspeople caught up in financial scandal.

Lord Kagan and Jack Lyons had their knighthoods “annulled”. So did Fred “the Shred” Goodwin of RBS and James Crosby of HBOS, at his request, after the credit crunch.

But, in spite of a vote to remove it by MPs, it seems that, technically, Sir Philip Green of the Arcadia group still holds his.

Honours expire with death so it remains moot whether the late Sir Jimmy Savile has been de-knighted.

Until 2014, it was impossible to kick out members of the House of Lords. A reform act now means that they can be expelled if they receive a prison sentence of a year or more. It is also permitted to resign altogether from the Lords, although this is not the same as taking “leave of absence”, as Lady Mone is now doing.

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Most countries have honours systems such as France’s Legion D’Honneur and the congressional and presidential medals of honour in the US.

The difficulty with the British system is that it is so extensive and contains so many different gradations.

In his evidence to MPs, Graham Smith of the Republic Campaign argued: “Rather than simply recognising people, you are elevating them and implying there is a structure within society in which some people have a higher status than others.

“I do not think that is appropriate in a democratic society where we are all supposed to be recognised as equal citizens with political equality, if not other forms of equality.”

Politicians and judges who are still serving are banned from receiving the Order of Canada. But British honours are also dished out by political leaders to others who are still politically active; in the case of Lords, until they die.

Tony Blair and Gordon Brown chose not to have a resignation honours list. David Cameron revived the practice and put 15 aides into the House of Lords.

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Boris Johnson got to install 30-year-old Charlotte Owens and 31-year-old Ross Kempsell into the upper chamber for life. Even Liz Truss, prime minister for 49 days, made her own appointments.

It is well established that major donors to political parties buy themselves a golden ticket to elevation. To those who say the UK is not as corrupt as other countries, my reply is: “What about the Lords?”

Defenders of the UK system say it is valuable because of the hundreds of unsung heroes and heroines who receive recognition. They tend to get the lower honours, while the top gongs – CBEs, peerages etc – go to the already powerful. They are receiving crumbs from a tainted table.

Alan Bates deserves all the respect and praise we can give him, for his defiance of corporate, judicial and political indifference, his decency and his honourable determination to clear the name of so many and obtain compensation for them. My advice to the people’s hero, however, is do not “Arise Sir Alan”.