Over there it spawned Barack Obama and dreams of a "hopeful America"; here, crates of Bacardi Breezers and a clutch of yellow Boris Johnson wigs. The political applications of social networking in the US and Britain could not be more different.

Millions of Americans have been networking to stump up dollars to ensure Mr Obama won the race for the Democratic nomination. All Britain's MyFacers have mustered is a protest at Mr Johnson's decision to outlaw alcohol on the Tube. Being an obnoxious drunk may count as social protest of sorts. But the "Booze Tube" Circle Line party, which tallied 17 arrests and many more puddles of vomit, is unlikely to be remembered as a political triumph for UK Facebookers.

Is disillusionment and apathy the reason British voters use social networking sites for parties rather than party politics? If the 20-something woman I met who attended Saturday's booze-up is anything to go by, the answer may be yes. She does not believe voting makes a difference; she hates the Conservatives but failed to register her feelings at the ballot box.

British political parties are culpable: their web campaigns woefully lag behind those of their US peers. Gordon Brown's appearance on the 10 Downing Street site is barely an improvement on the performance of his technophobe predecessor. Tony Blair, dubbed a "pen and paper man" by his spinmaster Alastair Campbell, used to watch television programmes with no sound because he did not know how to turn up the volume. And why is the prime minister wasting time calling individuals when a swift "soz" ("sorry") text would be more efficient?

The Tories have been more experimental. Who can forget Webcameron's squirm-inducing home video of David Cameron discussing the importance of "clean politics" while doing the washing up, environmentally friendly Ecover in hand and baby in the background? All parties are too wedded to the old-fashioned idea of delivering their message rather than engaging electronically with the voters. Perhaps the Conservative strategist, Steve Hilton, will pick up some much-needed tips when he moves to California for six months with his wife, who works for Google.

Obviously, the election has galvanised the US candidates. But even if we were facing a general election, British politicians might still have trouble with digital engagement. Tim Montgomerie, founder of ConservativeHome website, says British parties will not realise the need to network unless their funding is "overhauled and they are forced to rely not on unions, big business and wealthy donors but individuals".

British politicians should take heed of Mr Obama's web campaign; because, like it or not, MyFace parties are causing a commotion.

Born to serve
Now she is out of the presidential race, we can perhaps put to rest the lie that Hillary Clinton is singularly ambitious. Wanting to be leader of the free world is the dictionary definition of power-hungry. John McCain and Barack Obama are no different. As US comedian Chris Rock said when he was in London recently: "Nobody humble wants to be president."

A tot for the tots
But back to binge-drinking. Britain's favourite pastime is vexing the government so much that it is turning to the comedy Absolutely Fabulous for inspiration. Ed Balls, children's secretary, has asked the chief medical officer to set out guidelines so that parents can safely monitor their children's alcohol consumption at home. As Ab Fab's sensible Saffy shows, if there is one thing guaranteed to turn a child off alcohol, it is being encouraged to neck Stolly-Bolly by its parents.

There is little detail on how a child's recommended weekly allowance would work in practice. But it is guaranteed to add fireworks to TV's Supernanny as little Lily is forced to sit on the naughty step until she has finished her Merlot. It will also be interesting to see how parents who interpret 250ml as one unit measure out their children's allowance.

Mr Balls has a vision of family life - one where parents languish over three-course meals and indulgently allow their children a taste of wine. It sounds idyllic. The problem is, it just is not British; it is French.

Continental café culture was the idea behind liberalising the licensing laws. It turned out Britons do not want to make a glass of Burgundy last over dinner. Drunk is how we prefer it. So long as there is little difference in the price of fizzy water and Foster's we are unlikely to change.

Send your comments to emma.jacobs@ft.com