Reading various reports looking at how new US intelligence suggests that Iran halted its nuclear weapons program in 2003, I was struck by the similarities between this ongoing geopolitical soap opera and recent episodes of the BBC's flagship drama serial Spooks.
If you haven't been watching, recent episodes have focused on the world's most sylish counter-intelligence department trying to stop dastardly Iranian diplomats and spies from obtaining nuclear triggers and then, when foiled in this quest, pulling a peace treaty with Tehran out of thin air.
Just such a downgrading of hostile relations with Iran may be on the cards now following the report, which may lead those of us with cynical and conspiratorial inclinations to wonder if in some small way life isn't imitating art.
I doubt it as my Mulder days are behind me.
But Spooks has been particularly compelling this season as it appears to have abandoned last series approach of running a succession of loosely-linked standalone episodes in favour of a serial dominated by a single theme: the looming Persian threat.
Even if it is all nonsense - and good lord let's hope so, or we'll all be blown sky high sooner rather than later - the new approach has made Spooks even more watchable and enjoyable.
No adult fiction on Richard and Judy's Christmas book choices
There's not too much that's more depressing than wondering into a book shop and seeing people poring over tables of "celebrity" biogs, miscellany books and other assorted crap. It makes me want to lead people to the fiction, history and other sections and shout loudly at them. But as I'm a non-confrontational sort I simply seethe quietly about the decline of civilisation and then worry about my blood pressure.
Sure, buying Steve Wright's Further Factoids might solve the problem of what to buy Uncle Stanley for Christmas this year, but it achieves little else. Most of the books on display in major stores confirm my theory that television has left us with a collective national attention span of 4.7 minutes.
So it was with particular disappointment that I saw the reports of the books being recommended this year by the nation's literary guardians, Richard and Judy of afternoon television fame.
Having initially been scathing of the idea that Richard and Judy could dictate the UK's reading habits, I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that anything that makes people read more is probably a good thing, even if their power to make or break has become so formidable.
But this year's Chrimbo special will advocate readers buy books in the following four categories: Celebrity Autobiography, Cookery, Coffee Table, Stocking Filler. So it's Russell Brand, Jamie Oliver and Al Murray rather than, say, Zadie Smith, Ian Rankin or Antony Beevor. Heaven help us all.
As an ineffectual antidote to this lowering of tone, standards and IQ, Material Witness will present its Christmas reads later this week. I'm not going to give away too much now, but suffice to say, Jeremy Clarkson will not be on the list.