AT this time of year, it is hard to avoid an annoying kind of person, usually a woman, who nags us about what we eat and drink. Let's call her Dee Tocks.

So what does this woman look like? Who knows, but should you wish to summon up a mental picture of that strident female husk who presents You Are What You Eat on Channel 4, that is entirely your own business.

Little Miss Dee Tocks always wants us all to cut out this, forego that, swap something nice for something carrot-shaped. She is that most modern of killjoys, the dietician on a mission. She wants everyone to eat what she eats - and to enjoy every puritanical, fibre-clogged mouthful.

What is galling about Dee Tocks is that she is right - although mostly with regard to the unfortunate lard mountains who end up on television because they like to eat the entire contents of their fridge crammed into a giant baguette every night as a bedtime snack.

As well as looking at what we eat, Dee Tocks plays a wider role in life. She could even be said to have done for Charles Kennedy, who resigned as leader of the Liberal Democrats at the weekend, following his announcement that he had dealt with a drink problem.

In spite of his desire to stand in a new leadership battle, Mr Kennedy found that his own party wanted rid of him in a spot of political detoxing.

Many lessons can be drawn from the manner of Charles Kennedy's departure. Here are two:

The Liberal Democrats, for all the cuddly old jokes about woolly jumpers and sandals, are just as vicious, nasty and ruthless as any other political party;

Being honest about a drink problem is a brave and difficult thing to do.

There is a passing irony in all this. Sparkly David Cameron dodged questions about whether or not he had taken drugs, and survived to win the Tory party leadership - while Charles Kennedy owned up to a drink problem and was forced to resign by the Lib Dems.

This leaves the political question of who should lead the Liberal Democrats. Here is a half-serious answer: Steve Galloway. All right, technically he is not an MP, but he is doing such a wonderful job of running City of York Council (irony opt-in available at this point in the sentence).

Mr Kennedy was a leader people warmed to. Ironically, considering the manner of his downfall, he was said to be the sort of politician voters could imagine sharing a drink with in their local. He was ordinary in a good sense, down to earth, would crack a joke while cracking open another bottle - that sort of thing.

We seem to have strange attitudes to alcohol in this country, where drink and politics have so often gone together, although perhaps less so nowadays. Look at Winston Churchill, who won the war fuelled on copious quantities of champagne and brandy - and lived to a grand old age.

For all such heroic drinking, most of us know people were forced to give up alcohol before it brought them down or did irreparable damage to themselves and those they love. Yet alcohol can also be an innocent pleasure, a means of relaxation and enjoyment.

Charles Kennedy has been honest so I will too, although my own revelations won't amount to much. Friday: a glass of malt whisky or a bottle of beer - or, perhaps rashly, both. Saturday: two or three glasses of wine. Sunday: a couple of pints of real ale.

The pattern is broken sometimes by a rare night out in the pub, when I celebrate by going all the way to two and a half pints (three gives me a headache). And I like three or four drink-free days in any given week.

Is that a lot? Most proper drinkers will scoff at my efforts, while the stricter sort of teetotaller may consider me to be weaving along the bottle-strewn path to perdition.

Well, it sees me through and keeps me happy enough.

Updated: 08:52 Thursday, January 12, 2006