Mark Andrews: With Blue Peter on its last legs, it's no wonder the country's going to the dogs

It's strange the things that irk you. When I learned that Martin Bashir had used dubious methods to secure his infamous interview with Diana, Princess of Wales, I tut-tutted a bit, and moved on. When it emerged that the wide-eyed 13-year-old in the corporation's heart-rending documentary on Gaza was actually the son of a terror-chief, I shrugged wearily. But when I discovered that Petra, the Blue Peter dog was actually a ringer, I was horrified. How could they lie to us about something like that?

Petra, for those who don't remember, was the first Blue Peter dog, and starred in the children's series for 15 years. When she died in 1977 - having been mysteriously absent for several months - it felt like a day of national mourning. The news came just a few weeks after the death of Elvis Presley, but I was in no doubt about which one had the biggest impact on me.

At the time, viewers were treated to a potted history of her life, including cute pictures of her as an adorable puppy emerging from a pile of Christmas wrapping paper. Imagine the reaction if they tried that now. To mark her death, a bust was placed in the Blue Peter garden.  

What they didn't say was that the Petra who was being laid to rest in 1977 wasn't the one who the nation's children fell in love with in 1962. It was only in 2008 that Biddy Baxter, the producer of the series, revealed that the original puppy actually died a few days after she was introduced to the nation's children, and Baxter quietly bought a lookalike to replace her. 

The other great Petra delusion, revealed by Peter Purves decades later, was that Petra II wasn't quite as lovable as we all assumed. Despite having all her teeth removed at an early age - I'm pretty sure they never told the kids about that either - it didn't stop her trying to bite everybody she met. 

I suppose if Petra was around today, these matters would be referred to some kind of BBC ethics committee, followed by a public inquiry 10 years later. Which would inevitably conclude that 'lessons will be learned'.  

Now the reason I'm wittering on about a dog that died 48 years ago is because it was announced this week that Blue Peter will no longer be broadcast live in the studio, meaning the probable end of the all the unscripted animal capers which became seared in the nation's consciousness. No more elephants dropping whoopsies on the studio floor, no more boisterous border collies disrupting musical performances. 

Of course, in reality all this ceased to matter a long time ago. While Blue Peter is still theoretically shown on the Children's BBC digital channel, the reality is that hardly anybody actually watches it. Last year an average of just 37,000 viewers watched it, down from eight million in its heyday. 

To be honest, apart from Petra and the other animals, I was never really that into Blue Peter. It always felt a bit worthy and  too much like an extra hour of school. ITV tried to counter that with its 'hip' and edgy rival Magpie, but that didn't really work either. When you're 10 years old, there's nothing more tragic than adults trying to be down with the kids - none more so than my primary school teachers,  who thought they were dead cool for making us sing Morningtown Ride.

Yet for all its faults, I do wonder if the demise of mass-audience children's television - and mass-audience family television for that matter - is a contributory factor to many of the problems in today's society. Half a century ago - despite the warnings of Mary Whitehouse and her ilk - television, like football, cricket, church attendance and the Great British pub, was something that brought us together as a nation. Millions, rich and poor, young and old, tuned in to watch Morecambe & Wise, Mike Yarwood, Coronation Street or Crossroads. Workplaces and school playgrounds buzzed with conversations about the previous night's episode of The Likely Lads, On the Buses, or Mind Your Language. Yes, your granny harrumphed at the violence in Target, The Sweeney or Van der Valk - even Z-Cars ruffled a few feathers - but behind the rough edges, the morals of these programmes were fundamentally decent. 

Today, everybody lives such atomised lives. Instead of sitting round the TV as a family, kids retreat to their bedrooms with their smartphones, which is how they so easily fall under the influence of sinister pied pipers like Tommy Robinson or Andrew Tate.

What is the answer? I wish I knew. Maybe giving young people television they can actually enjoy, without the pious lectures about diversity and environmentalism would be a start. But I suspect the genie of social media and online video is now well and truly out of the bottle, and it will probably take another generation before we can work out how society can adapt to these challenges.

Which, I suppose, puts a few white lies about a dead puppy into context.