TODAY'S lecture is going to be a stern one, so fill your mooths with extra-strong mints and prepare for an unsparing analysis of humanity's shortcomings, much finger-pointing, and the sound of peels of thunder as I pronounce judgment from the pulpit.

For, verily, I take as my subject the year 2014. Not all of it, some of you backsliders will be glad to learn, but one phenomenon in particular that appeared to characterise it, albeit in a minor way that would lead only am unbending moralist like the present speaker to feel defiled.

Let me begin with a personal confession: I hate having my picture taken. I never come out right. Introverted people never do. We can barely look at the camera, never mind love it.

Instructed to smile, our lips curl unwillingly, our eyes betray distrust based on previous experience of our outward show being pinned down for posterity.

The results of having a camera or portable telephone shoved unceremoniously before my visage invariably show some other creature than the real me. The real me is doughty and has a much tidier beard.

It is not necessarily the fault of those taking the pictures, I have never even taken a photograph of myself that came out right, except once, 32 years ago, from which halcyon era there is an enigmatic image of self looking like an elf amidst some foliage.

Which brings me to the meat of today's tongue-lashing, not elves nor yet foliage, but - and I can barely bring myself to use the hideous term - selfies.

Yes, selfies. Cower as you may. The very term denotes selfishness, me-me-me, look at me, this is me and I'm putting me on the internet so that the masses may look upon me.

To be fair, as the footballers say, well brought-up young persons may legitimately post photographs of themselves on a happy birthday occasion with grandmother or some other wholesome relative.

But one hooligan published a photograph of himself smiling inanely in front of granny's coffin.

Other notable efforts throughout the year showcased ninnies grinning inappropriately in front of sieges, conflagrations, panic-filled passenger jets, suicide jumpers, and even during a triple heart bypass operation (taken by a medic).

To behave thus, and to dream of how "cool" you'll look on yonder internet, sums up everything that is wrong with your so-called human race.

You are a disgrace to the cosmos. Your planet should not be called Earth but Vanityville. There. I have spoken. Think on. Go forth. But, please, do not multiply.