BY this time next week we should know who is the new leader of the Laybore Party in Scotland. Or perhaps not, if election tsar Douglas Alexander has had anything to do with it. Be that as it may, you - like me - are doubtless quivering in anticipation. I am pinning my hopes on Cathy "Lulu" Jamieson, below, who is beginning to show the same language-mangling talent that so endeared us to Henry McCliché, telling us at first minister's questions that the SNP are "literally cutting the legs off local government." If only

An ism on both their houses SEXISM, ageism, racism and semitism (not to be confused with semmitism - addiction to the wearing of semmits) are the hot isms in the current charge for the White House. Sarah Palin's people - seal-bashing nitwits who believe the earth's crust is tasty and the best thing to do with a polar bear is to turn it into a rug - have accused her critics of sexism, which is what happens whenever a woman stands for office. Just ask Bendy Wendy. Ms Palin's boss, John McCain, is so old even old people wonder if he can last the pace. A smarter man would have lied about his age. As a woman undoubtedly would. In the meantime, as high noon draws nigh, white Americans are beginning to take a long hard look at Barack Obama, above. What they see is a man not of pale skin with a name awfully similar to that of the bampot who destroyed the Twin Towers. In the Deep South this can be summed up succinctly: "A lot of my friends are black, which is fine, but I wouldn't want one of them to be president." Mr Obama's running mate is Joe Bidie-In, who said: "I am a Zionist." Which would have been OK if he actually was one. In fact, he is a Catholic. Wait till Papa Razzi gets a hold of him. Ditto kosher Zionists who have been besmirched by association. May the least offensive of them win.

Young and sweet, only 72 MY new dear chum Platon was one of the stars of the recent Festival of Politics. Mr Platon is a photographer whose work may be seen in his book, Platon's Republic. His award-winning portrait of Vladimir Putin is currently on show at Holyrood, which is where I encountered the great man. Mr Platon, who is 40, has recently joined the New Yorker, having abandoned London 10 years ago. Among his many illustrious subjects are Donald Trump, Rupert Murdoch, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Bill Clinton, Prince, Neil Young and Barack Obama, all of whom, coincidentally, are also my dear friends. As each photograph flashed up on the screen, Mr Platon ad-libbed. Mr Putin's photograph, which was published on the front cover of Time, was taken at his dacha in the Soviet wilderness. In preparation, Mr Platon went to plug in his lights, whereupon he was leapt upon by several elephantine security men. Apparently, the socket which he was in the process of unplugging was that to which the big N button was connected. On another occasion, Mr Platon was assigned to photograph John McCain, the chip manufacturer, whom he had snapped many times in the past. It so happened that he was in the back of the limo when Mr McCain announced he would be running for president. Jubilant that the news was now out, he asked Mr Platon if he liked Abba. Sensing it would be prudent to say yes, he was then asked if he liked Dancing Queen. "If you like Abba," he said, "you've got to like Dancing Queen." Whereupon Mr McCain ordered it to be played fortissimo on the limo's system. Thus my dear friend Mr Platon found himself singing and swaying along to the Swedish quartet with the man who has a 50-50 chance of running the US of A. What a gay blade he is!

Sweet SFA on the box LAST Friday night, BBC Teuchter showed a documentary on Gordon Smith, heidbummer of the Scottish Football Association. Absolutely fascinating stuff - if you could care less. "There are also," blubbered one blatt, "insights into Smith's relationship with the media's many craven snipers and his reaction to key moments." Such as - one presumes - when he opened the door to his office. One of BBC Teuchter's many failings is its dependency on football, a game at which we've been useless for decades. In the meantime, other worthy subjects for programmes are ignored. Here's one. A year ago we elected our first nationalist government and a first minister by the name of Alexei Salmonella. To date, however, no programme has been made by BBC Teuchter about him. Who in the name of the wee man is he? When one enquires of BBC Teuchter's clipboard carriers why this is the case, one is told: "It wouldn't be fair to the other parties." One can only infer from this that the Beeb is still in denial over what happened last spring and that it is feart to showcase Mr Salmonella because if ever Laybore is returned to power it will exact a terrible revenge. You may think this tosh. I dinnae.

Age is in the eye of the vote IN an ideal planet, if one wants to become US president, is it better to be old or young? Certainly, if one is 90 or nine it is not going to endear you to voters. More trickily, is it better to be as old as Mr McCain - 72 - or as young as Mr Obama - 47? Against the former is the fact that he is over his allotted threescore years and ten, and may not have long to whistle. As for the latter, he is often accused of being too young to have done anything of note, despite which he's managed to write two autobiographies. And folk poke fun at Wayne Rooney! To compensate for their age and youth, Mr McCain and Mr Obama have both chosen running-mates who are at the other end of their respective spectrums. Ms Palin is 44, which gives the Republican duo a combined age of 116. Mr Biden, below, is 65, which gives the two top Democrats a total age of 112. Four years, then, is all the difference between the two camps. You may well ask what all of this means. Whatever you want it to.

Bringing Palin to book Many rumours have been circulating about Ms Insignificance, most of which are poppycock. For example, there are those who insist she is related to Michael Palin, perhaps even intimately. Let's squash this rumour right now. Mr Palin, ie Michael, is a National Treasure and A Gentleman. The other Mr Palin, the one who is married to Ms Palinsignificance, is a champion snowmobile racer who lives to hunt. And when he's not hunting he's breeding. Think rabbit.

Princes Street and the paupers WHOOP-DI-DO! A new hotel is to be built in Princes Street, replacing, among other eyesores, a tartan tat emporium. Princes Street's elegance has faded as George Street's has blossomed. Flaneuring along both recently with my dear friend Sandy Stoddart, sculptor extraordinaire, I was made shockingly aware of the criminal vandalism inflicted on Princes Street, not least by aesthetically deid grandees. No finer example of this is there than the New Club, a shebeen for well-heeled lowlifes, which was erected in 1966 and whose entrance is often clogged with mendicants. Looking out from it, Embra is as gorgeous as ever. Look towards it and you feel like gagging.