When disaster strikes, it's a safe bet that it won't be long before representatives of government, religion and, if we're really lucky, royalty - a sort of three horsemen of the apocalypse - pop up to offer us their two penn'orth, attempting, as ever, to gain some advantage from the distress of victims.

Governments of all stripes cannot escape being convicted on the charge of negligence, in that they knowingly allowed hundreds of thousands of dwellings to be built on flood plains.

Perhaps they didn't pay enough attention during geography lessons, for it is clear that Mr Cameron's Eton experience failed to imbue him with the determination to prevent certain disaster, there being no sign that he will ban the insane practice of building houses in places that are certain to be flooded at some time.

Building on flood plains is, regrettably, a practice of longstanding, about which many a book could be written, but this does not absolve our (sort of) elected leaders from the duty of care towards the citizenry, nor from the obligation to control the behaviour of 'developers'.

Whereas we would be disappointed were government ministers not to join the Punch and Judy show of media coverage when disaster strikes, many of us feel an equal disappointment when religious leaders do join the fray.

No surprise, then, when the Bishop of Carlisle (Podium, December 24), in an offering typical of his calling, attempted to roll human behaviour, Christmas, floods and a reiteration of basic Christian dogma into one big, fluffy ball.

Does he expect us not to recognise a contradiction between the claimed omnipotence of a loving god and the wrecking of people's lives - and timed exactly to cause the maximum distress?

And we were lucky, weren't we? For, behold! a prince travelled from afar - from a distant mystic land called 'The South-East'. No camels, though, just care-free travel arranged by minions.

No precious gifts, either. But no, Appleby had to be content with the magic of his presence.

How refreshing it would be if politicians put away their forked tongues, clergy took lessons in rationality and princes took themselves off to Ruritania, where they belong.

Geoff Brambles

Kendal