I wasn’t surprised that Russell Brand has gone for a stretch, and I’m not talking about his clear proclivity for the dirtpipe.

One of the victims apparently tongue-punched the old fartbox within hours of first meeting the hairy lothario.

Sounds like a real babe.

I’m not going to question the verdict by any means, though. There has to be scope to pursue historical allegations, and that is evidentially more of a push if there isn’t a dried four-roper to chisel off some skank’s back tattoo.

The jury heard the evidence and convicted him. But you don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind’s blowing.

Met chief Sir Mark Rowley commented after the case:

‘It doesn’t matter if your offender is a powerful person, we’ll take them on and put them in court.’

Let that sink in.

If you someone makes an allegation to the police about you, you’re immediately an ‘offender’, you’ll be ‘taken on’ by the full might and resources of the prosecutorial machine, and you’ll be ‘put in court’.

Illustrate the concept of fait accompli with a more pertinent example, I dare you.

We all know by now that the the Old Bill are a busted flush. So unfit for purpose, they’d be more credible if they pulled Diddy out of the can and installed him as top copper.

He’d at least connect them up to a drip to keep this wholesale freakout going in the interim.

The busies are in effect busy fools. It’s performative policing – and hopelessly on brand.

In Russell’s case, with no independently verifiable evidence, the CPS used the fact that seven women who didn’t know each other came forward with mutually corroborating stories.

Seems legit.

But there was a fly in the ointment that made sure only a flaccid logic popped out into the mouth of the courtroom: the twelve good men and true didn’t believe all the complainants, and he got three ‘not guilties’ out of seven charges.

Nearly half the counts tossed off the rap sheet. That seems to be reasonable doubt about the big, cumulative picture – and grounds to blow it all up and release the hirsute perv from his shackles?

Evidently not, and only they know why.

Now, the judge will be throwing the booky-wook at him.