Biopics of British politicians are few and far between because British politicians like Mo Mowlam are few and far between. In five or ten years, deep into the next Tory decade most of the middle-ranking nobodies that have staffed the Labour governments will be forgotten and Mo Mowlam will be one of the few that will be remembered, helped in part by Channel Four’s excellent docu-drama, Mo.

If you haven’t been watching Lost and were wondering what happened to those plucky survivors marooned on the mysterious island, then allow me to bring you up to speed with season five: time-travelling zombies.

Why are we so attracted to the idea of suit-wearing, cocktail stick-chewing fraudsters? There was a craze for it back in the early noughties, with Hustle emerging from the midst of remakes of Ocean's Eleven and the like, but as series six creeps back to the BBC it’s pretty clear the fad is over.

If you've read the news recently, you might have heard that Jonathan Ross will be leaving the BBC in June. For some, this was a blow to the broadcasting world: one of television and radio's foremost entertainers had been forced out of office by the easily-offended prudes of Middle England. For others, it was a triumph: a grossly overpaid and talentless philistine would finally be off our screens, leaving the airwaves untouched by his filth for once. Most of us, I imagine, were somewhere in the middle of these opinions.

Let’s be serious for a second: if the current trend for apocalypse scenarios on our screens are anything to go by, it’s not so much a matter of if but when I am going to be clambering over piles of corpses to claim the last tin of baked beans in an abandoned supermarket.