Her farewell tour went on longer than Frank Sinatra’s _ even her final speech had encores

STEPHEN DAISLEY’S UNMISSABLE HOLYROOD SKETCH

NICoLA Sturgeon, whose farewell tour is going on longer than Frank Sinatra’s, gave her final performance at Holyrood yesterday. She opened with an old standard, First Minister’s Questions – her 286th since taking over from Alex Salmond. The cords were worn, the voice more tired than you remembered, but it was still her.

Douglas Ross took one last swing, this time on SNP membership figures, but he was no match for the star. Now the end was near, the final curtain was looming and Sturgeon was done with it all.

‘I have nothing to add to what I have already said,’ she told the chamber. Regrets, she had absolutely none. Ross, she reckoned, should fess up about his membership numbers. Beside her, Humza Yousaf yelped, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah’, like a member of The Shirelles doing vocal warm-ups before a set.

The rising star sat off to the left, gazing fondly at the First Minister. or rather her seat. Soon it would be his, and with it the spotlight, the crowds, the glory.

Ross tried to press on but Sturgeon’s backing vocalists, Joe FitzPatrick and the Sedentary Screamers, kept bawling: ‘How many members?’

Ross accused the Nationalists of having ‘lied to the Press’ and ‘lied to the public’. In their defence, that does seem to be a reflex action. Sturgeon’s crew screeched their indignation. Alison Johnstone admonished Ross to show some respect. of course, we wouldn’t want to lower the tone of the hyena enclosure.

‘Everyone has accepted the SNP lied over those figures,’ he protested. ‘ooooooooooooooh,’ the Nats cooed. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish the proceedings of the Scottish parliament from a Friday night brawl outside a kebab shop.

STURGEoN continued to give the punters what they had come for, belting out the classics. She indulged herself as she often does in lengthy, self-satisfied answers but the audience response told her that’s what the folks in the cheap seats were after.

Sometimes Nationalist MSPs behave with the spontaneity of a People’s Liberation Army parade and sometimes they just revel in having the Top of the Political Pops for a leader. Yesterday was one of the latter days.

‘It’s about honesty and integrity!’ Ross yawped from his seat.

‘Given yesterday’s events in the House of Commons, I don’t think the Conservatives should be lecturing anyone about honesty and integrity,’ the First Minister retorted.

Her final show was a barnstormer and as she mauled her critics, the MSPs around her lapped it up, cheering, savouring every last moment with their idol. Encore, encore!

John Swinney, to her left, hoho-hoed in a fake chortle that made him sound like a deranged Father Christmas. His palms thwacked against one another theatrically, over and over again. We will lose a talent when Swinney leaves government. It’s not many grown men who can do an impression of a seal clapping in exchange for a fish.

The mood swung from belligerent to soppy as, after 45 minutes of verbal fusillades, they all lined up to pay tribute to Sturgeon.

The woman herself got teary more than once, including when she turned to Swinney and declared him ‘my best friend in politics’. The Nationalists broke into a standing ovation, and so did the school pupils in the public gallery.

It was a bit like the series finale of a long-running sitcom, where it’s all tears and running mascara, ‘thank you for being a friend’, and one last group hug to camera. I half expected Salmond to make a cameo appearance as the next door neighbour whose character got written out mid-season.

Douglas Ross and Anas Sarwar were gracious. Patrick Harvie was Patrick Harvie, which involved being sour and selfrighteous. If we’re really worried about the hole in the ozone layer, we should plug it up with the giant chip on that man’s shoulder.

As one after another they came to praise her, Sturgeon leaned back in her seat, looking meditative. This was it.

No more sell-out performances, no more hordes of fans clamouring for selfies. It was time, she said, for ‘Nicola Sturgeon the human being’. Nothing says ‘human being’ like speaking about yourself in the third person. Human beings do that all the time.

She reserved her ‘final words’ for the voters, telling them it had been a privilege to serve them. Then she got back up and said the same final words again. This speech had more choruses than a Led Zeppelin song. At last, she strode up, out the chamber and off the stage. Dim the lights, take down the marquee. Sturgeon has left the building.