The Scottish Government’s tendency to spend millions of our cash on fripperies and whims shows no signs of abating. A few years ago, it was reported that the annual bill for press officers had reached an eye-watering one million pounds. Last week it was reported that this has now risen to more than £3m covering the salary packages of 50 press officers.

You could understand this, if we were talking about a competent government, in charge of all its own affairs and having to negotiate the turbid and choppy waters of foreign policy. John Swinney’s SNP administration is none of these.

Now, let’s speak frankly here: I’ve no interest in doing some entirely decent people out of a well-paid job, even if it is on the public teat. But any organisation that spends so much money on so many people to massage their messages really ought to expect more bang from our buck.

Instead, what seems to have happened is that the more press officers and other such fluffers the Scottish Government hire, the worse their performance in office seems to become. I mean, even if all the wheels are coming off (and the SNP’s have been for some time), surely 50 press officers between them could contrive something positive occasionally to say about the way they are running the country.

The problem, though, with political press officers is that so many of them are failed journalists so how can they be expected to produce anything decent from thin air?

When you pair these people with cabinet secretaries who are incapable of walking and talking at the same time then there can be little wonder that the performance and behaviours of the Scottish Government resemble the Marx Brothers in Duck Soup.

Badly-dressed individuals

Of course, some political press officers are good operators and have been a loss to the newspaper industry. Some are experienced specialists in Health, Education, Home Affairs and Public Services.

When they were journalists they’d accrued knowledge and understanding of policy on these areas that far outstripped that of SNP ministers and the army of Matalan grifters advising them.

However, as wages in the media industry stagnated and newsrooms reduced their staff quotients, SNP strategists eyed an opportunity. They decided to use the public purse to tempt some of the decent specialists inside the tent. Among them were some whose scrutiny and analysis previously exposed yawning gaps in SNP policies.

That said, I’ve never understood how any journalist could be tempted to work for a political party. Sure, the pay and conditions of a mid-ranking civil servant might be attractive. But at what cost?

Within days of taking up your post you’d find yourself having to defer to some very unintelligent and badly-dressed individuals. The prospect of bowing and scraping to these political Visigoths for the next decade or so must surely wreak havoc on your mental health.

I can’t even begin to imagine the domestic distress caused when the time comes to tell your children that mummy or daddy spends their days effectively holding the briefcase of those inarticulate spanners they see on the telly.

I never kissed a Tory

It’s only proper at this point that I must own up to once having very briefly considered a similar such job. This occurred around 15 years ago after a drink or two with my dearly departed friend Paul McBride (God rest his eternal soul).

This was at a point when Mr McBride, then one of Scotland’s top QCs, had become Chair of the Scottish Conservative and Unionist party. He’d confessed to being in despair at some of the messaging around the Scottish Tories and felt that if only this could be improved then the public might be inclined to become more kindly disposed to them. I replied that even if they were to give every family in Scotland a weekly four-figure cash prize for the rest of their lives they’d be unable to shift perceptions of his party.

Whereupon, Mr McBride turned to me and asked if I would ever consider becoming their press supremo on a rather decent six-figure salary. “You don’t have to become an actual Tory,” he said. “You only need get our stories out there and schmooze some of your former colleagues and maybe attend the odd farmers’ byre dance in the Borders.”

At this point, I showed him a selection of some unkind published observations I’d made about the Tories in recent years. As the blood slowly drained from his face I said that he’d need another press officer simply to deal with the daily fall-out.

“Yes, but surely your old newspaper friends wouldn’t do you in like that,” he replied. Poor, innocent boy. “It’s a jungle out there, Paul,” I said. “Once you have crossed to the other side there can be no mercy.”

We agreed never to speak of it again.

West Wing ho!

Perhaps my views about political advisers and press officers have been skewed by watching too many episodes of The West Wing. This towering, American political drama departed our screens in 2007 after seven series and so I was delighted when Channel Four bought up the entire collection and stuck it on their streaming service.

I’ve started watching it again and so perhaps it has raised my expectations of what professional political staff should be delivering. The problem with this, though, is that once you’ve watched a couple of episodes you are sucked into the world of President Jed Bartlett and his senior advisors, Leo, Toby, CJ, Sam, Josh, Charlie, Donna and Mrs Landingham, all of whom have the wit of philosophers and savants. “No-one could be that smart and switched-on and work for the government,” I thought.

And then I watched a documentary about The West Wing in which several former White House staffers bore witness to the programme’s accuracy in capturing the daily business of the presidency and his staff.

It became clear that they had all considered it an honour to work for a sitting American President and that this was why the White House could hand-pick only the very best of them.

The world of the current Scottish Government is where wit, wisdom and aspiration go to die.

Kevin McKenna is a Herald writer and columnist