My Comments: This whole episode is so mindbogglingly stupid that I simply shake my head in dismay. Yes, I know, hormonal activity is not something easily brushed aside, but this is a man with an allegedly iron will whose self discipline is legendary.

But, since this is Friday, I’m still exhausted by the recent election, and I come originally from Britain, where this article was written, I decided I ought to share with you what folks across the Atlantic are saying.

By Robert Shrimsley for The Financial Times

There is so much to enjoy in the Petraeus sex and society scandal convulsing the US establishment at the moment that one hardly knows where to begin; perhaps with a warning. There are people who look at incidents such as Gen Petraeus’ adultery and resignation as personal tragedies; they think of the families, the wives, the children and see nothing entertaining in it. If you are among that group, you may wish to read no further since this notebook takes the distasteful position that the whole thing is a rollicking great soap opera, complete with socialites, sex, jealousy, intrigue, betrayal, hubris and spies. Yes there are children but if their parents weren’t prepared to let that fact spoil their fun, why should we let it spoil ours?

As with many such events there will be red herrings and false trails. We are not at all sure whether the second general did, in fact, have an affair. Some strongly worded denials have been issued. We do not really know what exactly the second woman, Jill Kelley, might or might not have done, although we can certainly enjoy the sideshow of the glamorous socialite twins from Tampa, at least one of whom spent so much to become a “social ambassador” to the military that she could not meet her mortgage payments. The pair look like a subset of Kardashians and may yet secure their own mini series, Keeping up with the Kelleys. We would dearly love to know more about the “shirtless man” – the so far anonymous FBI agent whose initial investigations were the first push on the tower that has now toppled.

There is the delicious irony of the head of the CIA being unable to conjure up a more sophisticated method of covert communication than a shared Gmail address with his lover, Paula Broadwell. One shudders to think about the other great tradecraft they deployed. Was there a sophisticated number code in which 1 was A, 2 was B and so on? Did they have codenames such as snookiepoops and big bear? Did he wear a false moustache for illicit meetings or use spook euphemisms to obscure what was going on. “Snookiepoops@gmail.com: Target is on the move, wearing a halter-neck top and a lace-number. Expected to rendezvous: 1900 hours.”

But mostly, one simply watches the magnitude of this soap opera with a sense of awe at its sweep and scale, and reflects that we Brits are simply no longer in the game when it comes to this kind of thing. Yes, we can rustle up the odd bit of adultery but it’s either terribly low grade – mostly involving a middle-aged chap and his secretary – or genuinely sordid, involving rent boys, prostitutes or dead dogs. The principals are rarely glamorous. We haven’t had a world-beating sex scandal since Profumo. The royal family did its bit to maintain British viability during the 1990s – Diana, Princess of Wales certainly kept us on the world stage – but truthfully, we simply cannot deliver the richness, texture and panorama of a top US scandal. We are Ken Loach to America’s Steven Spielberg.

This is just one more symbol of our national decline. It is salutary to consider how this scandal might have looked in Britain. Instead of twins in Tampa holding huge parties for the troops we would be talking about spinsters in Aldershot organising cake sales and dances at the church hall. The affair itself might have taken place in a grace and favour residence but more likely it will have been at a Premier Inn off the M25.

We may have put on a good show during the Olympics but we should not delude ourselves that this puts us back in the big league. The UK has, at one time or another, invaded 90 per cent the world’s countries but when it comes to the bedroom front we can’t muster a surgical incursion worthy of international coverage.

What makes this harder to stomach is that we are also falling behind our European allies. France, for example, is still managing to strut its stuff on the world stage. Even when the scandals are less than scandalous they have an élan about them that shows the political class recognises its duty to boost national prestige. The former justice minister has just filed a paternity suit against a hotel tycoon; the president’s complex love life makes for good copy and, of course, he got the job only because the frontrunner was Dominique Strauss-Kahn. In Italy meanwhile, Silvio Berlusconi … need one say more? This, then, is one more challenge for David Cameron. We do not need him to take it on personally but somewhere, someone senior needs to make the ultimate career sacrifice. The country’s honour is at stake.