I HOPE you all had a happy St George's Day. Do not be alarmed. I am merely echoing the sentiment of the First Minister, Eckingham Salmond, in Holyrood yesterday. "I think it appropriate to congratulate the people of England on their national day," quoth he.
Funnily enough, I recall being despatched to Manchester once to report on the St George's Day celebration of Englishness. Outside a pub, patriotic football songs were sung, until two opposing sets of Mancunian fans set about each other, and the celeb
ration ended with a mass brawl conducted to the sound of smashing glass and police sirens.
Mind you, the hullabaloo at Holyrood yesterday wasn't much better. Blood wasn't spilled, but financial figures were thrown back and forth like missiles, and you'd be hard put to distinguish between the sound of a police siren and Cathy Craigie (Lab) wailing. Yup, the Labour harpies were back, and they were worse than ever. Cathy was sitting next to Lord Dod Foulkes, who maintains a non-stop barrage of abuse at the Nats. Is the combined effect statesmanlike? Is that the word I'm looking for? Perhaps not.
As for the proceedings more generally, imagine a curious alien fae ooter space visiting Holyrood. After having his tentacles frisked by security, it takes up its seat and watches everybody ganging up to pick on the roly-poly bloke in the middle, the very leader to whom he'd envisaged being taken. One after another, the downbeat dude, the doughty duchess, and the lean chap with the pointed proboscis holler at him that everything about the Budget is his fault. The alien has done some background reading. The big, proper government of this funny little country is in London. It looks after the economy. The economy is in a mess. Therefore, who do they all blame?
The roly-poly bloke! Our alien beams himself back to civilisation, feeling utterly bewildered.
That said, the three opposition leaders landed a few rhetorical punches yesterday. Generally, Eck bowls along on these occasions, regarding opponents as mere skittles to be flattened on his roly-poly way. But the skittles are righting themselves for a fightback.
Iain Gray, the Labour leader, still has the mien of a miffed butler (though any self-respecting aristo would sack him for loping) and, yesterday, he threw a tray of budgetary cocktails at Eck's heid. Ian's case was that lovely London was increasing expenditure in Scotia. Eck's response was that loathsome London was slashing spending here. As a journalist, I'm happy to admit I have no idea where the truth lies (though I have learned that truth can indeed lie – when selectively deployed).
Matters took a distressingly mathematical turn after Iain alluded to some alleged gaffe by Eck when asked by the BBC what you get when you divide 24 by zero. I do not watch children's television, so I missed the programme but, funnily enough, as a fan of Brian Taylor's blog, I'd noticed earlier in the week a manly apology from the estimable BBC reporter, in which he said he'd been wrong and Eck right. Eck had said the answer was infinity. Brian had said it was zero. The real answer is, of course, 41. Anyway, let's not go there. The gist of Iain's case was that Eck was just fiddling around with his laptop until he got the figure he wanted. Eck's finance man, John Swinney, had this to say: "Ooh!" He was right to say so. Fiddling with one's laptop is a serious allegation. The idea seemed to discomfit Eck, who declared to harpie hysteria: "I'll tell you the choices that we would make if we were in government." Er, you are in government, Eck. He probably meant proper, not pretendy, government.
Unpretentious Annabel Goldie bustled through these polluted waters like the battleship Brunnhilde, with a patterned doilie atop her mast. The Tory leader didn't blame Eck for the country's financial state, but wanted him to cope with the cuts rather than just bawling at Westminster.
Eck responded by bawling at Westminster. Annabel said: "There he goes again."
She added: "Can I just draw him back from the land of fantasy to the world of Scotland now, the land of reality?" What a cruel thing to do.
Blunder about in reality long enough and you're sure to encounter a Lib Dem searching for the exit. Tavish Scott, leader of that desperate band, summarised SNP policy thus: "Money to be spent on free school meals for rich kids. Money to be spent to reintroduce beavers in Argyll."
Poor Eck. Dammed if he does and dammed if he don't. Duncan "Disorderly" McNeil (Lab) proved he knew damn all about political grammar when he forgot to speak through the chair. He wasn't the first person to mix up the second and third person, but the following exchange was truly comical.
Duncan (addressing Eck directly): "Can you make a start to ensure … ?"
Presiding officer: "Through the chair, please, Mr McNeil."
Duncan: "Sorry. Can you ensure … ? Could you make sure … ?"
PO: "Can he make sure … ?"
Duncan: "Can he make sure … ?" Cheers all round. By George, he'd got it.
The full article contains 866 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
