DID you enjoy Pastor Tiger Woods’ prayer meeting, widely reported as his “Apology in Full”? It reminded me of one of those nauseating, hand-wringing, teary-eyeballed confessions by some telly-evangelist caught out with either his hand in someone’s knickers or in the till – or, more usually, both.

Or of one of the nuts ‘n’ sluts shows presented by the likes of Oprah Winfrey, the sort of emotional incontinence that pollutes so much of daytime TV.

It wasn’t an apology at all. It was a publicity stunt designed to be a damage-limitation exercise. And it was stage-managed from start to finish, particularly by the character of the carefully-selected audience brought in to radiate schmaltz and sentimentality. The hug with his mother was the smarmiest, most oleaginous scene I have witnessed outside the Baftas.

Woods dragged in the name of his long-suffering wife. He said: “Elin and I have started the process of discussing the damage caused by my behaviour.” You bet they have. But the way he puts it, he makes the process sound decorous, like a quiet chat over morning coffee; whereas it would be surprising if saucepans and rolling pins had not been flying around in the Woods’ home for months.

But the domestic crisis was not the main act. The real “tragedy” would be the loss of his name, fame and – above all – his money.

That is the true significance of what he said next: “My behaviour has caused considerable worry to my business partners.” Which, being translated means: “Gosh – I hope to goodness I don’t lose any more sponsorship deals.”

Of course, modern media culture – those nuts ‘n’ sluts again – being what it is, the speech had to be loaded with psychobabble: “It’s hard to admit that I need help, but I do.

For forty-five days from the end of December to early February, I was in inpatient therapy.”

This, we have been informed, was for “sex addiction”. Come off it. So called “sex addiction”

is just good old-fashioned randiness.

The facts are much more simple and unremarkable: a passably attractive young man, with more money and fame than he knows what to do with, is bound to be the prey of a certain sort of glamorous young woman – particularly if she belongs to the same racket, if she is a “starlet”, a “model” or, God help us, a “celebrity”. The poor lad could hardly help himself.

And he simply couldn’t help thinking that the world was his oyster and he could do as he liked. This is plain, ordinary sin – which should be followed by plain ordinary guilt.

He said: “Starting tomorrow, I will leave for more treatment and more therapy. I need to restore my balance and be centred. I’ve learned to seek support from my peers in therapy.”

But a brilliant young golfer doesn’t naturally talk like that. He has been primed by the shrinks and the sickening counsellors to parrot their clapped-out, touchy-feely lingo.

But Tiger Woods deserves our sympathy.

He has merely gone the way of all flesh. And there but for the grace of God go most of us.

It’s just that his media stunt, schmaltz-fest was no way to go about making amends.

True contrition is mainly private. It might usefully have been followed by a sober statement issued to the press. Public pantomimes and circuses never saved people’s souls – or even their bank balance.

■ Peter Mullen is Rector of St Michael’s, Cornhill, in the City of London, and Chaplain to the Stock Exchange.