Next, the government will be sending texts telling us when to defecate

In order to combat the dire reading, writing and speaking skills of British children, Jean Gross, the outgoing “communication champion” for children (!) has suggested that the Department for Education should send new mothers and fathers texts telling them to switch off the television and reminding them to speak to their children. “Every parent I’ve met wants the best for their child, but not every parent knows what to do,” said Mrs Gross – who, I was surprised to discover, is a living person rather than one of Michael Wharton’s creations . “Parents are not doing a bad job,” gee, thanks, Jean! – “but often they need the information to do better.”

And we all know who thinks they have that information and who’s gagging to ram it down our throats!

According to the Daily Telegraph, Mrs Gross, who, inevitably, has just been awarded a CBE (for being a very silly, cosmically bossy woman, one presumes) was simply bursting with brilliant ideas. “Imagine that parents could sign up when they are pregnant to a service called ‘You amazing baby’, and get regular tests (sic) sent to their smartphones. For example, one text might say, ‘Did you know that even in the first few months after birth, your baby can imitate you?”

Number of problems here. First, not every parent wants the best for their child - they all say they do, because saying it's easy: if you genuinely want the best for your child, you actually do something about it. Second, their baby might not be in the least bit amazing. Third, given the sort of people this service would be aimed at, is it such a good idea for babies to imitate mothers who are so lazy, stupid or mean that they can’t even be bothered to buy books about rearing their offspring or to look up parenting advice on the internet and who, according to Mrs Gross, have the TV on all day? After all do we really want the first word they utter to be “benefits” or “shaddap!” and for their standard facial expression to be one of sullen, resentful entitlement?

There’s an excellent post on Telegraph Blogs this morning from Alan Massie – “One by one, Lord Macaulay's predictions are coming true. The government will soon choose our wives” in which he quotes extensively from Macauly’s attacks on Gladstone’s fondness for state interference in the personal realm:

"Why should they not take away the child from the mother, select the nurse, regulate the school, overlook the playground, fix the hours of labour and of recreation, prescribe what ballads shall be sung, what tunes shall be played, what books shall be read, what physic shall be swallowed? Why should they not choose our wives, limit our expenses, and stint us to a certain number of dishes of meat, of glasses of wine, and cups of tea?"

As Massie points out, welcome to our world!

Of course, it’s practically impossible to write about fatuous liberal jerks without mentioning Nicholas William Peter Clegg, who has just announced plans to create a “John Lewis” economy by encouraging companies to offer shares to their employees. See how it works? A complete business virgin glances at the Anti-Business Pages of the Guardian, notices that John Lewis is ever so successful, feels all warm inside when he reads that pay and profits are distributed among employees, because that sounds so lovably communal and equable and progressive – and concludes that that’ll work for every business in the UK. Problem solved!

Listen, Clegg, you wanker – if you want business to succeed, stop pretending you have a clue how to run one, then lower taxes, scrap all that EU-imposed red tape (some of which you no doubt helped dream up) and get out the bloody way.

In case you think I was being unfair to Mrs Gross at the start of this post, she also suggested that the text service she proposes could also include advice on health, sleep, food and lavatory training. As I wasn’t fully awake, I rather wondered whether she meant for babies or adults. Still, I’m sure there’s some ridiculous taxpayer-funded, honours-laden “expert” drawing up plans right now to tell me when it’s time for my next visit to the lavatory, with a follow-up text reminding me to wipe my bottom.