When muppets get political, nobody is a winner.

Kermit the Frog demonstrated as much this week when he waded into the Scottish independence debate. Ker-mee, who had until then enjoyed universal admiration and was a hero for hen-pecked males everywhere, managed to slash his Scottish fanbase in one misguided utterance.

For me, muppets exist in a happy place where the main source of tension is the fact that Cookie Monster hasn't cleared up his crumbs, again, and Oscar is really dragging everyone down with that incessant grumbling.

Sure, Jim Henson's muppet show always had a satirical edge, but we loved it for its unpredictable surreal tangents, sense of anarchy and weekly humiliation of a celebrity guest. I don't want to witness Fozzi Bear fretting over inflation or contemplating our place in Europe. Whatever next? Peppa Pig interrupting play to explain the Barnett Formula to bemused tots or In the Night Garden doing a pensions special to send the kids off to bed with the pros and cons of annuities ringing in their ears.

If our favourite entertainers become embroiled in politics, where can we go to escape the pressing realities of modern life? Sure, they're entitled to an opinion, but it's no more valid than that of a man in the street and should be treated as such. While nothing gets politicians doing cartwheels of delight like a bit of celebrity endorsement, there's a time and a place for the musings of muppets and it is not Question Time. You may insert your own joke here.

IS nothing sacred any more? The world was already in possession of the unfortunate details of the passing of Elvis; namely, he was on the throne with a half-chewed burger. It's an image I could not expel from my mind as I took a tour round the King's Memphis home many years ago. Now, via the medium of TV, we are furnished with information of medical conditions which may have contributed to his untimely demise. Some boffin has been snuffling about the DNA sequences of historical figures, including Elvis, to get the gory detail of their biological flaws. Does nobody else find this grossly inappropriate? There is such a thing as too much information. Let them take their ailments to the grave with them.

THE new aircraft carrier HMS Queen Elizabeth, currently being put together at Rosyth, is so gargantuan an app has been created by experts at BAE Systems to allow workers to navigate their way around the 12-deck vessel. What a swell idea for other workplaces to adopt. On signing their contract, employees could get an app which gives them the real lowdown on their new work environment.

To the right, the best part of the office to make a sneaky phone call. To your left, the only part of the floor where you can stop for a chinwag and not be observed from the boss's desk. Continue straight ahead for the vending machine which insists on giving you free coffee, and a flashing red light means you are approaching the office bore. Invaluable.

PAUL Flowers, who has something of the "Santa at the Boxing Day hoedown" about him, took to the airwaves this week to deem himself a sinner. The Methodist minister and former Co-op bank boss stepped down last June amid allegations of illegal drug use and inappropriate expenses payments.

This week he chatted to Jeremy Paxman about his human frailties. While our stateside cousins love nothing better than a lip-quivering confessional on TV, we are still getting to grips with the genre.

Saying that, at least Flowers had the grace to face the music, unlike graduates of the Fred Goodwin School of Disdain who sail off into the sunset on a case of money without a backward glance.