I once met a guy from Occupy, at a party in some insalubrious corner of north London. During our conversation, which was somewhat one-sided, he attempted to explain to me his world view, which appeared to hinge on two key nostrums.

First of all, he claimed all Israelis - men, women and children - are war criminals, a stance that got my gander up somewhat. Then he claimed that the world's financial problems could be solved simply and easily, by declaring a moratorium on debt, wiping the slate clean and declaring everyone's overdrafts null and void.

The fact this would instantly trigger hyper-inflation while detonating the global banking system, thereby bringing mass unemployment, poverty and the near-certainty of global war, apparently had not dawned on him.

These are the people Russell Brand represents. The right-on rabble-rousers desperate to assuage their middle-class guilt with specious, facile solutions to the world's problems. The people with a surfeit of opinions and a dearth of understanding. The people who attempt to prove their individuality by getting gothic tattoos and supporting West Ham United.

Brand's status as a pied piper of the champagne anarchist is even more ridiculous when one considers his past.

The man now putting himself forward as a Shoreditch Che Guevara, a crusader against bigotry and the capitalist system, shot to fame as a presenter on Big Brother, a programme that has been blighted by racism and relies on sponsorship from firms such as TalkTalk and the Carphone Warehouse. It has also been alleged (though never proven) that his film company is bankrolled by a group of City financiers, the very people he purports to despise.

Yet still our screens are inundated with this preening, priapic lothario, urging the British public to take brainless measures such as refusing to vote, or pay their taxes. Having slurred David Cameron, Nigel Farage, Nick Clegg and Ed Balls, it appears Brand is against every one of the main political forces in British politics. Yet he is not willing to form his own "do-it-yourself" political start-up, a British answer to Spain's remarkable Podemos party, or offer any kind of concrete policy suggestions.

Brand's latest outburst, in which he called Ed Balls a "snidey c**t", was surely his most pathetic attempt at political sparring to date.

The c-bomb has no place in the political arena (well, unless you're a member of the Australian parliament) and by resorting to potty-mouthed personal insults he proved the sheer scale of his irrelevance. Even Balls' staunchest opponents will have enjoyed the "pound shop Ben Elton" jibe he rattled off in reply.

Perhaps now Brand's profanity has gone nuclear, those charged with producing Britain's political programmes will finally stop seeking out his opinion.

Maybe they will realise that, far from being in some way refreshing, Brand is simply a self-serving troll, wasting the airtime of people with proper political views to espouse.

This year's election will determine Britain's stance on a raft of crucial issues such as immigration, the NHS and nuclear armaments. We don't need people like Brand trivialising these subjects.

Brand claims to represent the young people of this country, those under the age of 35. Well I belong to that generation (just about) and I can categorically say this man does not represent me.