You have to laugh – but not very much – at senior politicians from all parties solemnly intoning that there will be zero tolerance of any inappropriate behaviour or sexual harassment of any kind.

Because in politics, as in all kinds of endeavours, it’s usually pretty common knowledge who the guilty parties are – and that knowledge has been common long years before.

You may remember one unfortunate pronouncement by former premier John Major, that it was time for his party to “get back to basics”.

Scarcely was his homily on family values in the public domain, when a couple of his ministers were outed as serial cheats. And, lest we forget, it later emerged that when Mr Major was having one-to-ones with Edwina Currie, they weren’t talking egg quality!

But, of course, it is not about any one party or any one industry. The reason political leaders have been selecting their words and accusations with consummate care is because they don’t know who in their own happy ranks may turn out to be a bit of a groper.

Skeletons can be found in every kind of cupboard, and the kind of man (and occasional woman) who targets people in this way is not motivated by ideology; they just have a gap site where common decency should reside.

The other similarity is the abuse of power. The reason so many young actors or political researchers stayed schtum about serial bad behaviour at work is because the perpetrator had influence over their career path.

Plus, let’s be frank, too many organisations would choose to disbelieve or dismiss the account of a junior employee rather than embarrass a senior colleague.

As everyone has been anxious to point out this week, there’s a queer difference between rape and an unsolicited hand on the knee at the dinner table.

But it’s also fair to note that most women do not go to work hoping that someone will “joke” about their breasts, pinch their backsides, or pin them to the office wall. Just ponder the reverse scenario for a moment.

Few men are expecting their female colleagues to festoon notice boards with pix of naked men, or “jokily” grab their crotch as they wander down the office.

The culture in some workplaces is such that young women are expected to shrug off casual touching, or lewd remarks, because if they don’t, they are of course humourless feminists whom nobody would want to bed anyway.

Men, decent men, men who would no more impose themselves inappropriately on a colleague than arrive at work in a mankini, are often as well aware as female victims of the identity of the sex pests.

Next time they’re sharing a beer or three, they should maybe tell Jack the Lad that his time is up.