Is it a sign of weak libido or perversity when you don’t feel sexually stimulated by the antics of British parliamentarians? Most of the rest of country seems to find it hugely titillating if the acreage of print and hours of punditry devoted to William Hague this week or John Prescott in times gone by are a guide.

See if this extract from Blair’s memoirs floats your boat. Professional help is probably your best bet if it does.

According to the Guardian the action takes place in their bedroom on the night he decided to run for the Labour party leadership in 1994.

"That night she cradled me in her arms and soothed me; told me what I needed to be told; strengthened me; made me feel that what I was about to do was right,… On that night of the 12th May, 1994, I needed that love Cherie gave me, selfishly. I devoured it to give me strength. I was an animal following my instinct, knowing I would need every ounce of emotional power to cope with what lay ahead. I was exhilarated, afraid and determined in roughly equal quantities."

Don’t you feel squalid for just having read it? Go and have a shower.