The centenary commemorations of the end of the First World War were magnificent: poignant, patriotic and just perfect.

The poppy displays around the country; the nationwide peal of bells on Remembrance Sunday; the hauntingly beautiful sand drawings of those who had served, slowly being lost to the tide; the spectacular festival at the Royal Albert Hall; and, of course, the service of remembrance and march-past at the Cenotaph in London - along with the countless services up and down the country.

I say the commemorations were “perfect” but, actually, they weren’t quite: three people in my book behaved far from perfectly.

The first, almost inevitably, was President Trump, whose planned participation in an armistice ceremony at the US cemetery in Paris was cancelled because it was raining.

What was he - and his advisers - thinking? As countless disgusted people have pointed out, rain didn’t stop the fighting in Flanders, or prevent the thousands who died in those killing fields and in the hellish mud of the trenches from serving their countries. Trump deserves all the opprobrium that has been heaped on his over-coiffured head for this crass decision.

Next, we have Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn, who attended the Cenotaph service in London dressed in a navy, hooded, anorak-style coat, bright red tie, too-long trousers and slightly scruffy shoes - and sporting a poppy that was so small it was almost invisible to the naked eye.

His acolytes have leapt to his defence: who cares what he was wearing when Tony Blair - complicit in the starting of the Iraq war - was shamelessy standing behind him? Well, a lot of use do, actually. Corbyn’s sartorial duff note wasn’t just disrespectful, it was unnecessary. He’s old enough and surely savvy enough to know how to dress appropriately (indeed, at last year’s ceremony, he wore a smart black coat and black tie, along with a decent-sized poppy). He’s also old enough - even if his advisers aren’t - to remember Michael Foot’s infamous donkey jacket at the Cenotaph in the 1980s. Is it uncharitable to suggest he knew exactly what he was doing when he chose his outfit on Sunday morning? It certainly brought him plenty of publicity.

The third miscreant is closer to home. It is the person who thought it a good idea to fly a drone over Ulverston cenotaph during the two-minute silence at the town’s remembrance service. What a very silly and, again, disrespectful thing to do.

Yes, ceremonies up and down the country were filmed. Yes, newspapers’ photographers were there to capture these solemn moments. But a drone? These machines are still unusual enough to cause an unnecessary distraction. They are also intrusive. The drone owner, I hope, recognises their error of judgment and regrets their insensitive faux pas. Is it too much to hope that Messrs Trump and Corbyn are capable of doing the same?