Embroiled in sleaze, my lasting image is one of Neil Hamilton clinging on for dear life to the greasy pole of power. Whenever he did slip down a tad, there was his faithful wife Christine armed with a hat pin, ready to give him an encouraging prod.
Wind the clock forward to the present debauched administration.
It's not a hat pin they need up their jacksies so much as a stick of dynamite. And yet somehow, I still don't think they will 'get it'.
But that shouldn't stop us trying.