WHEN Conservative leader Stanley Baldwin stood down in 1937, he promised his party he would never spit on the deck or distract the captain when he was at the wheel.

He may have kept his promise, but he must have been the last politician who meant it when he said goodbye.

Whenever our modern leaders nod off, they’re haunted by the ghosts of government past telling them where they’re going wrong.

When they wake up and switch on the TV there they are again, sharing their wisdom.

Lord Howe was the latest of the political undead to rise up, giving David Cameron a ticking off about Europe, comments which I thought got an undue amount of air time.

The broadcasters described Lord Howe as a Tory grandee, which is a word that always summons up a mental image of someone dressed like a pantomime Lord Mayor.

If they’re not grandees, then people putting their oar in are described as elder statesmen – an equally meaningless term, meant to give a bit of lustre to a faded star.

Maybe there’s a ranking system. If a grandee is grand for long enough, he is promoted and becomes an icon or even a national treasure.

Usually they are just people who have been out of mainstream politics long enough for us to forget that when it came down to it, they weren’t hugely successful at their old jobs.

When a retired politician intervenes it’s often said that they feel “compelled” to speak out on a point of principle, that they’re only trying to protect their own or someone else’s precious political legacy.

Fine words, but I suspect that settling old scores or sheer boredom are sometimes the motives. They used to say that George W Bush was capable of pressing the red button if he got bored with his computer game. Time can lie heavy on your hands, after all.

When Mr Baldwin made his vow of silence, there were fewer temptations: no daytime TV sofa to pontificate from, no round-the-clocknews.

But these were also days when most of our leaders had a life outside of politics, jobs and experience in the real world; not internships or think-tank research work. They were glad to get out of the goldfish bowl.

Politicians aren’t the only ones blessed with wisdom after the event. I turn down dozens of requests to talk about police issues.

I’ll talk about policy occasionally, but live investigations are a no-go area.

The last thing a busy serving police officer making life-changing decisions and facing the glare of the media needs is some wellpaid wiseacre telling him where he’s going wrong. I know some of my former colleagues are more generous with their opinions, but that’s a matter for them.

There’ll always be a place for the instant expert, whether it’s a politician or policeman at a loose end or a football manager so full of himself that he can’t hear the chorus of “You don’t know what you’re doing” rising from the nation’s living rooms every time he opens his mouth.

Maybe it’s harder work than we appreciate, keeping up with the news, waiting by the phone for the call from the media, putting together the tweet – I think that’s what they call them – that will catch the news editor’s eye and get the storm brewing.

Maybe one or two of them are looking for inspiration from this column. Or maybe they’re just shaking their heads and saying: “That Ray Mallon, he has an opinion on everything!”