Rutherglen and Hamilton West by-election with Kevin McKenna

These include his ‘doubtful adjudications’ which might be subject to a challenge from the candidates and their agents gathered at the side of the stage. He goes through them all meticulously. Most bear the imprint of lumpen delinquency: a large cross scrawled over the entire 14-strong list of candidates or a continuous line drawn from top to bottom through them all.

A few of them, though, exhibit signs of political protest: ‘No trust in politicians’; ‘all unfit for public office’; ‘adult human female’. There are two votes for Margaret Ferrier, the SNP MP whose Covid transgressions had resulted in the recall petition that sparked this election. And then that single, solitary vote for Brendan Rodgers.

Mr Sneddon tells me that during another election, one voter had channelled his inner Audobon by garlanding his ballot with “the finest drawing of an elephant I’ve ever seen”. His female assistant says it’s often genitalia. She’s sparing my blushes. What she really means is the cock and balls insignia of 21st century abstract repressionism.

Half an hour later, Mr Sneddon takes his place on the stage with 12 of the candidates lined up behind him.

The SNP had claimed unwisely that any Labour victory by less than 50% would be unconvincing, given the nationalists’ recent vicissitudes. Labour’s margin of victory was 58%. According to their winning candidate, Michael Shanks, this means that all of Scotland is now back in play for the Labour Party.

A few hours spent here, observing the intricate engineering and workmanship at the heart of a single by-election is a curiously uplifting experience. As Returning Officer, Mr Sneddon must oversee an elaborate suite of ceremonials, all of it having evolved over two centuries to ensure that every vote cast is sacred and undefiled.

Earlier, before the tribal caravans began to arrive: media, party activists, career hustlers and professional politicians, he had outlined what, for this febrile 24-hour period, is the most intense job in Britain. His day had started before 6am before embarking on a tour of this sprawling constituency where he would visit two thirds of the polling places.

After three hours of sleep he was due in Dundee yesterday morning for a meeting of Scotland’s Returning Officers to discuss, among other items, voter ID which is making its Scottish debut.

“With voter ID we’ve learned from down south some of the things you need to factor in. In a multi-ethnic community, some female voters might potentially be wearing a burka or other coverings required of their faith and tradition. You need to have the right facilities and staffing to allow these voters to demonstrate that that’s their photograph.

“Despite some reports, there’s been no drama around this. In Fernhill in the first hour they had two older couples who had simply forgotten their ID. There was no angst though, and they simply returned to their house for their bus passes and came back 10 minutes later. There was no drama.

“I was five minutes away when I first heard of some potential trouble at Fernhill. So I went straight there. We have three polling stations in Fernhill, yet none of our staff reported anything amiss. People were well aware of the new ID requirements, and besides there is a very broad set of permissible forms of ID.”

The scale of staging this exercise in democracy is astounding. South Lanarkshire currently has three whole Westminster constituencies within its boundaries. More than 240 staff have been deployed at the polling places. Another 20 have been working for weeks on the postal votes. There are 45 technical resources staff responsible for delivering all the set-up: the ballot materials; the booths; the desks.

There are ancillary staff to provide hospitality at the count and the Comms team deal with the needs of more than 60 journalists from across the UK. It’s a large-scale exercise just to distribute the postal ballots in two separate mailings.

A series of meetings with the candidates and their electoral agents before the election and live on the night allows the Returning Officer to share his aspirations for this contest. He wants it to be safe and accurate.

“In South Lanarkshire,” he says, we don’t allow the use of posters on our streets and the candidates have been respectful of this. There should be no photography in the polling places and no hanging over the staff as they conduct the count.”

The candidates and activists have clearly ignored that last one. Part of the drama on the night is seeing teams of them flocking towards the compounds where the votes get counted as soon as the boxes begin to arrive. It’s like feeding time in the penguin enclosure. And it’s mostly performative.

They’ll tell you that by sampling some of the ballots they can ascertain where the vote has held up and where it’s collapsed. And of course it provides an early indication of shocks or whether they margins will be fine or broad. But nothing they witness here will affect the result or tell them anything their canvassers won’t know either now or in the weeks ahead.

In previous national elections, an arms race has developed between the two Lanarkshires – North and South – for the prize of being first to declare. “I’m not interested in that,” says Cleland Sneddon. “I want it to be viewed as professional, ordered and delivering a result that we can all be confident in. I need to be absolutely certain when I get on that stage that every vote and the entire procedure has been absolutely verified.”

For those doubtful adjudications he prefers to be audible. Thus, as the candidates start to gather for their appearance on stage and the tricoteuses of the Fourth Estate jostle for position, Mr Sneddon makes like an on-course betting tic-tac man, holding up each spoilt paper and outlining his reasons for disavowing them.

Earlier in the day, I’d visited the Rutherglen United Reform Church at Stonelaw which had been commandeered as a polling place. Hugh and Margaret, two Labour Party activists are standing outside and we cheerfully discuss the cultural and behavioural differences between Glasgow and Rutherglen. Not a single soul from any other party has been there. It seemed to encapsulate the gap that exists right now between resurgent Labour and the SNP in full retreat.

In the hospitality room I offer my commiserations to Thomas Kerr, the impressive young Tory candidate who’s just been told he’ll probably lose his deposit. “Our vote has been squeezed,” he says, indicating that a number of Tory voters have gone to Labour to stop the SNP.

Monica Lennon, Labour MSP in these parts, takes me to task for spending an afternoon with Mr Kerr during the campaign. “I just like his style: he’s real,” I say. “You’re turning into a big softie,” she insists. “Don’t tell anyone,” I say.

A murmur of anticipation, barely perceptible, suggests that the final act of this production is about to commence: the entrance of the winning party leader. Anas Sarwar, the Labour leader is walking through the front door with Mr Shanks, his new local champion and a broadcast media scrum duly assembles to greet them.

No-one is expecting Humza Yousaf, the SNP leader. He’s beginning to make an unfortunate habit of missing difficult meetings. Contrast this with Patrick Harvie, whose Scottish Greens lose their deposit and come in fifth with a paltry 601 votes.

Yet, Mr Harvie has been here all night doing what leaders should do on these occasions, fronting it up; making the best of it and showing appreciation for his man after what’s been a physically and psychologically gruelling two months.

I congratulate Mr Sarwar on his success and he tells his aides that it was the day I had spent with him and Jackie Baillie in High Blantyre last month that had made all the difference. He’ll say anything for a vote.

Tonight, he was walking the walk of a man who has achieved what had been thought impossible last year: making Labour in Scotland electable once more.