I AND people like me are at least partly responsible for the cocaine trade.

It must be true because various senior politicians and law enforcement folk with impressive titles say so.

Apparently loads of ordinary people who generally believe themselves to be fairly ordinary, decent and law-abiding are in fact drug-addled maniacs who can’t have friends over for so much as a cup of tea and a slice of pizza without whipping out load of Class A substances and passing them around.

I was horrified to learn this, obviously, and full of shame when those important people advised me of my terrible culpability.

After all, Class A substances such as cocaine represent a long and dreadful road paved with misery, degradation and death.

At one end of the road are the oppressed and poverty-stricken people thousands of miles away who are forced under threat of murder and mutilation to produce and process the raw materials.

At the other is every wretched addict whose living death often precedes actual death, typically decades before their time.

I can only assume, however, that illicit substances also have a weird memory-wiping effect on top of all the other horrific problems they bring.

You see, in spite of mixing for years with my fellow ordinary people of all ages and walks of life, and in spite of having been round to people’s houses for tea and having had them round for tea countless times, my mind is lacking in Class A-related memories.

Clearly I must have forgotten.

I certainly remember my nearest and dearest saying things like: “Don’t forget to pick up some extra beer for this evening – oh, and some big bags of onion rings and salt’n’vinegar crunchy sticks.”

I do not remember them ever saying: “Don’t forget to stop at the crack house and see if they have any bargains. Oh, and don’t forget that Bob prefers ketamine and Julie prefers the Uruguayan because the other stuff irritates her nostrils.”

I remember saying things like: “That pasta was fantastic! Thanks for inviting us.”

And: “Glad you could come, but I don’t deserve any of the credit because my culinary skills are limited to the odd bit of slicing and dicing, and nipping to the shops for stuff we’ve run out of.”

I don’t remember saying things like: “Mmmm – heroin fritters. My favourite! I love the sauce – tell, me, is that just the slightest, most mischievous hint of MDMA I can detect?”

And: “I’m glad you liked the way we arranged that long spiral of cocaine on top of the cake. Of course you can have the recipe. It’s called Black Forest Gateau a la Scarface.”

I remember people saying things like: “Shall we have a drop of that home-made wine you liked last time?”

I don’t remember them saying things like: “I’ve just synthesised another bucket of LSD – shall we play Ducking for Crystal Meth again?”

The strange thing is that I’d always said there were other reasons for the terrifying, tragic scourge.

The fact, for example, that in recent years we’ve seen the number of front line police officers ruthlessly reduced to save cash.

The fact that those holding the purse strings have inflicted the cruel cuts in the full knowledge that drug kingpins would jump at the opportunity to spread their murderous filth into every new territory possible, as they stood less of a chance than ever before of being caught.

The fact that for countless people, many of them very young, taking drugs is preferable to a life and future from which opportunities have been mercilessly stripped.

Clearly I was wrong, and it’s all our fault, not the people in charge.

It must have been the drugs talking.

OMG! I must need new reading glasses

IF the last few days have taught me anything, it’s how out of touch I am.

I really must do better.

Discovering that I and lots of other people like me have a hand in the Class A drugs trade – see above – was bad enough, but I’ve also discovered that I’ve been misreading a common online abbreviation for years.

I certainly need new reading glasses.

I like to think I’m fairly familiar with most of the common abbreviations - lol, lmao, that sort of thing.

I even know some of the less common ones such as YMMV – “Your Mileage May Vary” – which means different people can expect different outcomes from a situation or thing.

Imagine how embarrassed I was to discover recently that I’d completely failed to understand OMG.

“OMG!” I’d read in the comments sections of assorted websites, “the partner of [insert name of some random sports or show business personality] is having a bitter feud with the partner of [insert name of some other random sports or showbusiness personality]!”

Or: “OMG! Did you see [insert name of random reality show on an obscure satellite channel]? Did you see [insert name of random Z-lister or random would-be Z-lister] and [insert name of another random Z-lister or random would be Z-lister]? I reckon they’re [insert activity the thought of which would put all but a ravenous hyena off their breakfast].”

As I admitted earlier, for more years than I can remember I’ve completely misunderstood the significance of the abbreviation.

It’s apparently short for: “Oh my God!”

The abbreviation is not, as I had thought in my short-sightedness, OMC.

And it does not, as I had thought in my ignorance, stand for: “Only Morons Care.”