IT is nearly 20 years since Tony Blair, the fresh-faced and idealistic MP for Sedgefield, made perhaps his most naïve declaration as he stepped into Downing Street, high-fiving his delirious supporters, as Britain’s new Prime Minister.

“We must be whiter than white,” he said.

It was a statement that was bound to return to haunt him because, whenever human-beings are involved, there is not a hope in hell of avoiding scandal – especially over the course of three terms in power. Sooner or later, there will be black marks against the name of some politician or another.

And so, it was with a sense of “here we go again” that I watched from afar as the Keith Vaz scandal unfolded while I was on holiday in Croatia.

In my book, if not in the eyes of the law, the veteran MP for Leicester East was already tainted. In 2009, the Daily Telegraph revealed that he had claimed more than £75,500 for a Westminster flat despite his family home – then valued at £1.5m being just 12 miles from parliament. His actions were not illegal but they were clearly wrong and he was asked to pay back a four-figure sum.

And so to the latest scandal, exposed by the Sunday Mirror, alleging that Mr Vaz had paid for the services of male escorts at his flat, told them to bring “poppers” and offered to pay for cocaine.

It has inevitably rekindled the debate about press intrusion. Everyone has the right to privacy and whatever Mr Vaz was doing, he was doing it in the privacy of his flat.

Except it can never be that straightforward, can it? As chairman of the influential Home Affairs Committee, from which Mr Vaz has rightly now resigned, he was overseeing an inquiry into prostitution and had made statements about drugs. That is clearly the public interest justification an editor would need to justify the intrusion.

Mr Vaz disagrees, of course, describing it as “deeply troubling that a national newspaper should have paid individuals to have acted in this way”.

I, for one, am not deeply troubled. I simply rejoice in the knowledge that Britain still has a free press which, for all its faults, can hold the elected and powerful to account when they betray our trust and display such incredibly bad judgement.

AS my wife and I enjoyed our idyllic, peaceful holiday close to the historic city of Dubrovnik, it was hard to comprehend that little more than 20 years have passed since war brought terror and killing to such a beautiful part of the world.

From 1991 to 1995, the Croatian War of Independence – “The Homeland War” ¬- was fought between forces loyal to the government of Croatia, which had declared independence from the Socialist Federal republic of Yugoslavia, and the Serb-controlled Yugoslav People’s Army.

But, no matter how hopeless it may seem at the time, countries can recover from war - and Croatia, and its neighbours, have risen from the conflict admirably and remarkably quickly.

Tourism is booming around Croatia’s stunning, rugged coastline and the emergence from devastation is personified in one story – one family – which we encountered during our holiday.

After the war, Niko Karaman made it his life’s work to revive an ancient vine with a history dating back to the 14th century. Amid the ruins that were left when the fighting stopped in 1995, only three plants remained of the Malvasija vine which had produced the region’s sweetest grapes for centuries.

From those three plants, Niko set about returning the vine to its former glories. It has taken 21 years but, today, there are 60,000 plants and Malvasija wine is rightly considered to be a local treasure.

Niko was busy with the harvest during our holiday wine tour aboard a little train through the Konavle valley, but we met his wife Anita and daughter Lucija, who told us in excellent English how Malvasija wine had emerged from the horrors of war to become part of modern Croatia’s story of survival.

“I am very proud of what my father has achieved,” Lucija told our increasingly merry band of tourists from around the world. “Thank you for coming here and please go and be ambassadors for our marvellous wine.”

So, in my own small way, back home in the North-East of England, that seems the least I can do.

Croatia is thoroughly recommended as a holiday destination and, if you ever get there, toast Niko Karaman with a glass of Malvasija wine.

FINALLY, my depression at having to return home after such a relaxing break in the early September sun, was capped by the press release that popped into my email on our last day: “Ten top tips on how to get the most out of your Christmas turkey,” it began.

The PR company that sent it on behalf of “British Turkey” can get stuffed.