I was disgusted to hear about Tony Blair getting bombed in Iraq at the weekend. While I appreciate that he's relieved to be relinquishing the reins of power, a Prime Minister should set a dignified example of sobriety, not prance about like a drunk schoolgirl.
As with so many modern problems, the shocking misbehaviour of our politicians has its roots in the decadence of the 1960's, when such shameful antics were regarded as a model for leadership.
Take Captain Kirk in Star Trek, for instance. Every week, it was the same thing - Kirk shows up on a planet and, faced with a life-or-death situation or a thorny moral quandary, would either fight or shag his way to safety.
It wouldn't surprise me for a second if there was an episode in the archives in which Kirk, faced with a marauding slime-beast that kills by enveloping and then digesting people, stuck his dick in it then thumped it in its extra-terrestrial eyeball.
Cut forward twenty years, and the generation that was raised on Star Trek were fully-fledged football hooligans, rioting and boozing their way across continental Europe leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.
Little wonder that Blair, who grew up with such lax moral standards, chose to end his term as Prime Minister by blowing off some steam in a bout of drunken iniquity.
That's nothing compared to what's going to happen when wee Gordon Broon takes office, however.
You've no idea how glad I was to see that Broon wasn't presenting the trophy at the FA Cup final at Wembley on Saturday - as a Scotsman, he'd never have been able to restrain himself from ripping up the turf and tearing down the goal posts in a fit of sheer nostalgia.
So much misery, all caused by one daft sci-fi show. That Roddenberry's got a lot to answer for, I tell you.