What on earth has happened to the once legendary advertising firm of Saatchi & Saatchi? Have they replaced their entire creative team with a subscription to ChatGPT?

That is surely the only possible explanation for the woke, nonsensical and frankly insulting drivel that is their latest 'creation', this year's John Lewis Christmas advert.

Starring the BAFTA-winning actress Dame Kristin Scott Thomas and a wooden toy dog named Pickles (voiced by Paul Whitehouse, who for some inexplicable reason has decided to channel Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins) it tells the story of a middle-class grandmother's quest to find the perfect presents for her two grandchildren, Freddie and Maggie.

Set against the festive tagline 'Don't give up on giving,' the story (according to the press release) 'touches on a relatable modern truth: how the fear of not finding the perfect gift can overshadow the simple pleasure of giving something thoughtful this festive season'. 'Fear' is a strong word there, I can't help feeling. After all, it's only Christmas.

Anyway, instead of giving the grandkids cash, as she had initially intended (and which no doubt they would have much preferred), DKST (with the help of Pickles and John Lewis), turns her spare room into a 'magical gran cave', thus finally earning their undying affection as 'the thoughtful surprise bridges the generational gap through a moment of pure joy'.

So far, so saccharine. But the devil is in the detail. There is something sour in this sachertorte, something fishy about this figgy pudding. It's laced with so much political correctness, entitlement and general wokery it's almost impossible to watch.

Where to start? Is it the spoilt, rude and overindulged children?

The useless, spineless, pathetic parents? The truly terrible mauling of one of the Rolling Stones' most iconic tracks by Sam Fender (I'm sure he's a perfectly nice lad, but if I were the Glimmer Twins, I would sue).

Is it the patronising portrayal of older people as over-privileged, out-of-touch 'boomers' who we are all supposed to roll our eyes at (until they get with the programme and do as they're told, i.e. die and leave behind all their money)?

All of the above and more. Not that DKST doesn't make a decent fist of it. It's not her fault the thing is so embarrassingly awful, that they've made her out to be such a cliche, with her extravagant gold jewellery and stylish knitwear and an enormous, well-appointed house that clearly Angela Rayner would tax to oblivion given half a chance.

I just hope they paid her enough so she can spend the next two months in the Bahamas, as far away from the ghastly thing as possible.

'Sorry, I think they need something to do,' says the children's mother, as DKST watches in horror while the children jump all over the furniture and tear up her living room with its stylish cushions and Christmas tree. What, did bad grandma fail to provide an iPad and an X-Box to keep them busy?

If that had been my mother and my children, she would almost certainly have smacked their thighs and suggested they go and play with some traffic, but that sort of thing is not really acceptable these days.

Instead, DKST dutifully goes off to find them something to entertain them, the aforementioned toy dog from her own childhood, which the little brats regard with ill-disguised contempt.

Meanwhile, the ghastly music builds. 'I saw her today at the reception / A glass of wine in her hand,' warbles Fender breathily, for some reason pronouncing 'hand' as 'huaound' in a manner reminiscent of nails on a blackboard.

It is all about disappointment and drugs and absolutely nothing to do with old ladies finding redemption in the eyes of their ungrateful grandchildren by spending too much money on shiny plastic gifts.

Other irritants: the 'magical' Tuk-Tuk ride that deposits DKST and the animated cod-cockney dog outside John Lewis, apparently in London.

Firstly, those things are a menace and a rip-off: poor Granny would have had to sell that nice house just to go half a mile.

Second, Sadiq Khan has now pedestrianised that bit of Oxford Street, so it's impractical anyway.

And third, if you're looking for iconic Christmas transport, why not either a big red London bus or a black cab, instead of some garish light-up tricycle? Or is that, you know, too British?

Speaking of which, some people have criticised the choice of a mixed-race family.

This I have no truck with whatsoever – not just because there is nothing even remotely offensive about the notion, but also because I very much hope that by next Christmas, we might have a very similar family – Kemi Badenoch's – in Downing Street itself.

Wishful thinking, perhaps – but then again, what is Christmas about if not miracles?

That footage of the King and Queen in a Caribbean downpour made me laugh – especially his tantrum after his umbrella failed to materialise. Some people might have had a sense of humour failure but Camilla got the giggles. If being able to laugh at oneself and one another is the sign of a happy marriage, these two are as in love as they've ever been. 

In this week's podcast with my colleague Peter Hitchens (Alas Vine & Hitchens), we discussed the way the State and/or political zealots gain power by undermining the family.

Peter cited Pavlik Morozov, 13, who denounced his father to the Soviet state for hoarding grain in 1932 and was rewarded with a statue in Moscow. It should come as no surprise that our Government is engaged in a similar operation via the Conversion Practices Bill, which is at the Committee stage. 

Its effect would be that any parent or carer who tries to dissuade a 'gender-questioning' minor from, for example, taking hormone blockers, undergoing 'gender affirming' surgery or simply self-identifying as a different sex (or species) to their biological one, could face up to five years in jail.

In other words, weaponising vulnerable children against the people who love them. Straight out of the Communist Party playbook.

'Mogging' is the word of the year, according to the Collins English Dictionary. Apparently it's the act of outperforming or outshining someone, as in 'Damian Hurley was mogging Brooklyn Beckham in that recent photo of them with Beckham's wife Nicola Peltz'. I suppose that's one way of putting it. The photo has since been deleted. 

If terrorists can hack supermarket freezers and spoil millions of pounds of food, imagine what they could do if they managed to break into the AI-driven systems that now dominate our lives? Humanity managed for thousands of years without so-called smart tech. Have we become so dumb we can't see where this is heading?