Holyrood Sketch

Breaching the peace at the Faslane submarine base is, of course, a very serious matter. Oh, dear me, yes. Or rather, it is a dashed serious matter if the polis say it is. As generations of demonstrators know, the constabulary are from time to time creative. They can hear a peace being breached at half a mile, should the need arise.

Equally, the cost of having coppers freeze their nethers just to deter people from approaching the deterrent is no small matter.

Hard-pressed council tax-payers, possibly including those who could live without Trident, are stumping up £27m a year to protect the ultimate breach of anyone's peace.

Obviously, we can't have folk breaking the law. This may be why hordes of respected jurists can be found who will tell you that possession of weapons of mass destruction is itself a bit, possibly very, illegal.

Numerate objectors can meanwhile divide the £25bn (minimum) cost of Trident replacement by the money it takes to police protests against that lavish outlay.

The political calculations are easier. The SNP notes the number of Scots who would rather have a holiday than a holocaust at the seaside is best understood in terms of votes to be claimed.

Jack McConnell, and those of his party who are not hiding under the seats, can do the same sums. In electoral terms, it's bombs away.

Nicola Sturgeon, for the Nationalists, wanted to know why Jack had promised freedom of conscience to his colleagues, and then sacked Malcolm "Don't Call Me Jessie" Chisholm as Communities Minister, just for believing the fib.

Here's a fact: Chisholm is no longer a minister. Here's another fact: he says he was given no choice in the matter. But was he handed a black bin-liner and a map to the back benches?

Not according to Jack. He said yesterday that Chisholm was not sacked. I quote: "No one was sacked. Simply not true".

That's a relief. Where would we be if a First Minister was found to be saying things that omitted any reference to known facts? Chisholm should therefore be back at work first thing this morning and Rhona Brankin, promoted to the delight of her rivals, will be back where she started. This time, on both counts, I really am just kidding.

I'm taking lessons from Annabel Goldie. If you believe the Tory leader, it is only thanks to Trident that SSP MSPs can find themselves, wholly accidentally, in a position to be arrested at Faslane. But are they grateful?

Tush, as Annabel might say. They simply abuse the liberty afforded by a device designed to eradicate the species. What's more - a far more serious matter in Annabel's book - "they owe an apology to Scottish taxpayers!" (Anyone strapped for an extra apology can have mine. I won't be using it this week. It's either that, or I put it on eBay).

The fun part in all this was the duet performed by Annabel and Jack.

Does one hear the patter of tiny parliamentary understandings? Repeatedly, she invited him to agree that anti-nuclear politicians are a shower of shockers.

Repeatedly, she wooed him with promises of proper debates. Submarines, she said, are not a Scottish issue, whatever the Scots might think. (I only added the last part).

Jack, rapidly discovering who his real friends are - goes by the name of Jack, bit of a loner - did not put up much of a fight. Increasingly, he and Annabel are in this together, defending the honour of the Union, which is more than Unionists usually do.

Strange days, and growing stranger.