You could call it many things. but if you wanted to be kind you might call it imposter syndrome.

There have been a great number of jaw-dropping and eyebrow-raising exchanges of messages revealed by the Scottish leg of the UK Covid Inquiry. One such was a message exchange from 2021 between Humza Yousaf, then the newly-appointed Health Scretary, and the Scottish Government's National Clinical Director Jason Leitch.

"Winging it!" Mr Yousaf joked, with a laughing emoji. "And will get found out sooner rather than later".

"Me too," Mr Leitch responded. "That doesn't change".

There have been some coruscating takes on that exchange but, if anything, it seems entirely human. Don't many of us feel, at times, to be making it up as we go along? To be doing our level best and hoping not to be caught?

We want to believe that the people in charge are there for good reason - because they know exactly what's what.

The tone of the exchange varies from much of the rest of the messages that have been revealed at Lady Hallett's inquiry. There has been a cloying chumminess and arrogance that undermines any sense of professionalism in some of the conversations the public is now privy to.

The advice, for example, from Professor Leitch to Mr Yousaf to have a drink in his hands at all times to avoid being caught out by mask-wearing rules. The criticism of politicians from opposition parties, as another.

If there hadn't been such a display of inappropriateness more broadly across the piece then you might think Yousaf and Leitch genuinely felt a sense of imposter syndrome, of the old "Do I really belong here?" self-doubt. Which you can understand. Few people would find themselves health secretary in a pandemic and not, even for a moment, think "Shit".

Instead, Mr Yousaf and Prof Leitch come across a little like the cool kids, the in-crowd, the sort that might have bullied me at school. (Which is not that far fetched - Jason Leitch and I did in fact go to the same school.) A lot of time and energy is spent counselling women against having imposter syndrome. It's seen as a particularly female complaint and one that I hope is becoming less gendered as we raise little girls to have the same bolshy confidence as little boys.

So, perhaps controversially, I'm a big fan of imposter syndrome. More people should have it. We perhaps would be in far less of a political mess if the country's leaders looked themselves hard in the mirror and asked "Do I really belong here?"

The messages - and the lack of messages - have revealed a kind of chaos at the start of the pandemic and then a concerted effort to deflect from, or even actively cover up, that chaos.

Nicola Sturgeon, then First Minister, was clear that she would keep all messages from the pandemic period. But then she did not. Humza Yousaf said he actually had kept all of his messages, then said he hadn't, and then miraculously found some on an old device.

You could sense the fury from the front page of the Sunday Mail last week: "You Lied to Us First Minister", ran the splash. After allegations from journalists that Mr Yousaf had deleted his WhatsApps, he said: "I have retained all my messages. I don't know where those reports have come from," before it emerged they had been deleted.

Liz Lloyd, who was senior aide to Nicola Sturgeon during the pandemic period, has supplied a limited number of WhatsApp messages but none from the very early days of the pandemic in 2020 - a crucial time for determining what action was taken, why and at what speed.

Jeane Freeman, who gave testimony to the inquiry on Monday, wanted to suspend Freedom of Information legislation until the Coronavirus was under control. This didn't ever go ahead because the suggestion faced such strong opposition.

At that point in the developing crisis, there was a sense that everything unessential should stop. Emergency legislation was drafted for all manner of things. At children's hearings, for example, we were permitted to make decisions with only two - not three - panel members. Situations changed with a view to doing the maximum using a minimum.

It's quite telling that Freedom of Information - at a time of crucial government decision-making that restricted people's everyday lives in a manner never before seen - was viewed as an unacceptable and unnecessary burden on civil servants' time.

Any scan of the headlines on any given day shows a paltry bunch of politicians who seem unable to decide which way is up. Rishi Sunak is still cleaving to his nonsensical Rwanda plan; his Rwanda Bill risks a drubbing this week in the House of Lords while it emerges the UK has granted asylum to more Rwandans so far than are likely ever to be deported to the country.

Mr Sunak has almost entirely forgotten Scotland with his main pledges - other than those of the economy - dealing with issues not relevant here. Eradicating smoking, say, cutting down on vaping. Stop the Boats. English-centric and unashamedly so. Scotland is lost and there is no pretence otherwise.

The Sunday papers had a novelty little story praising Mr Sunak's fortitude and steadiness in the context of the news that he fasts for 36 hours a week. Damned with the very faintest of praise.

New polling for the Sunday Times confirms what is obvious: Labour is benefitting from the decline in trust and competency from the Tories and the SNP and Labour is bouncing ahead in the polls.

Natural independence voters are increasingly willing to give their votes to Labour but this poses a quandary for the party, which must answer the crucial question of what Keir Starmer is willing to offer independence voters in the run up to the general election and what Anas Sarwar might offer them in advance of the Holyrood elections in 2026 as a reward for their switch in fealty.

As they impose themselves on our lives, the question "Do I really belong here" is a pertinent one indeed.