A room full of politicians and me: what could possibly go wrong?

She’s my nomination for the night’s top apparel. Her vivid ensemble includes a lace and glitter black and silver scarf; a military style coat and kitten heels. It looks to me like it could be from Gianni Versace’s less celebrated Sauchiehall Rue range. She is telling me of her encounter in a hospitality lounge the other week at the rugby with Prince Albert of Monaco. I’m immediately transfixed by the vision of this diminutive and forthright Glaswegian MSP holding court with the royalty of European royalty.

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“I told the prince that me and my partner, Angela, had named Albert, our cocker spaniel after him,” says Ms Wells. “I hope His Highness was suitably impressed,” say I.

“He was absolutely tickled,” she says. “I even called Angela over to verify the fact, while hoping that she wouldn’t blurt out that Albert was really called Albert in honour of a different Albert - Queen Victoria’s man - on account of their distinct facial likenesses.”

I suggest to Ms Wells that this could be the beginning of a Scottish trade initiative with the world’s richest principality. “And to hell with the rugby,” I say, “get him to throw you a couple of tickets for his Formula One Grand Prix.”

If I’m being honest here, I’d harboured a degree of anxiety about writing a piece like this. In other circumstances, I’d be turning up at this event to poke fun at Scotland’s politicians and mock the very concept of these people even getting awards.

But, being an employee of the newspaper that’s hosting them, well … a measure of cautionary rectitude is required. On the other hand: you wouldn’t want me merely to supply a puff piece saying what a jolly wizard wheeze it was and how the gents all look dashing and the ladies all look like princesses and Anas and Kate and John were all on top form.

I’m still wrestling with this dilemma when Stephen Flynn walks in with Kate Forbes. I’d written a column about Mr Flynn just the other day basically telling him not to give a monkey’s about his bid for Holyrood and the two jobs rammy. Don’t give us any of your nonsense about integrity, I’d instructed him, for some of these bangers, integrity is a sellable commodity to the highest bidder. I’d even suggested he do a deal with Ms Forbes before setting about the task of smiting the SNP’s lumpen Holyrood troughers hip and thigh and scattering them hither as well as thon.

Herald Editor Catherine Salmond with Kevin McKenna, both right (Image: GT) But he’s obviously not taken a blind bit of notice of my advice. Minutes earlier he’d put out a statement to the effect that he wouldn’t now be seeking a Holyrood seat and that he’d – get this – “got this one wrong”. Later on, I chivvy him out and scold him for apologising.

“What are you doing apologising to this shower,” I tell him. “Emma Roddick [former Minister for Equalities, Migration and Refugees] who’s done the square root of damn all in four indolent years at Holyrood will be eating out on this for the rest of her life.”

This is why they let me out only occasionally at these events.

In the midst of all this, Ms Forbes seems the personification of sweet innocence … but a vulpine grin is beginning to tug at the side of her mouth. She’s been up to no good herself. Along with Anas Sarwar and John Swinney, she’s up for the night’s big prize and has been asked to supply the name of a charity that will receive half the proceeds from a collection. She’s nominated Open Doors, an organisation that helps Christians facing persecution across the globe. She knows – and so do I – that this is gentle trolling of those who slaughtered her during last year’s SNP leadership election.

In exchange for your indulgence at my pretensions I will tell you this. There’s a fail-safe way of sorting out who among our elected representatives are self-important weapons and who are the ones you’d gladly buy a drink. If they can still approach you with smile and an outstretched hand after you’ve been disobliging of them in print then it usually means they haven’t yet disappeared up their own fundaments.

Take Stewart McDonald, the SNP MP who lost his Glasgow seat in July. On several occasions I’ve lampooned his militaristic fetishism. I’ve referred to him and his MSP pal Alyn Smith as “the NATO twins” and described him as the MP for Kiev Central. Yet, he’s never been anything other than a decent chiel and mocks in turn some of my unlovely prose and my blind allegiance to Celtic FC.

The Herald Scottish Politician of the Year Awards 2024 is an annual fixture on the calendar (Image: GT) John Swinney’s the same. I’ve taken more than a few liberties with his good name and spotless character. Yet there he was at that cattle market in Edinburgh last week addressing me warmly and listening patiently as I attempted to ask him a multi-layered question about the coos. By the time I’d finished I’d forgotten what the point was of my own half-arsed inquiry … and so had he. He could have dismantled me, but sought instead to make some sense of it.

Of course it’s easy to deride these awards, now in their 26th year. On the surface, it’s an orgy of self-glorification and back-slapping among Scotland’s political and media elites. 

But there are other dynamics at play here. For a start, the public purse isn’t being raided. Many of the tables are paid for by companies as a means of treating their staff to a good night out. It also provides these firms and several third sector organisations with an opportunity to engage with the people who spend Scotland’s money and award public sector contracts.

Within an hour I’ve arranged three future interviews with charitable organisations whose social justice values align with my own. The Herald will duly give me 1500 words and a page to tell our readership about the work they do.

One technology firm whose success is vital to the depressed economy of North Lanarkshire have made valuable political connections at this event over the last 10 years. They can get in front of a politician without having to pay thousands each month for a lobbying firm. They learn how the political process works and how to give themselves a decent chance of winning a contract. It helps them keep hundreds of jobs within North Lanarkshire and to pay them all well above the real Living Wage.

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You can get a full list of all the award-winners elsewhere on the Herald website. Anas Sarwar won the main award, though I’d have given it to Kate Forbes for her grace under the river of abuse she faced from her own party and the Scottish Greens during the SNP leadership contest. But I’m hoping to interview Mr Sarwar some time soon, and you can’t say he’s not done a decent job with Scottish Labour.

The Baroness Goldie of Tea and Abernethy got a lifetime achievement award. This went down well with everyone, because well … everyone’s got their favourite Annabel Goldie anecdote.

I saw her once scold a Labour grandee who was unutterably howling with the hooch at a different political event in that Dynamic Earth building. She had caught him trying to abscond from our table with some bottles of the Blue Nun.

“Put thet beck right now, or you and I will have words in the morning.”

The Lord, drunk as he was, apologised profusely, replaced the bottles meekly and backed away unsteadily.