The Peter Murrell scandal should have been a fairly simple affair.
Over £400,000 vanished from the SNP. The party’s former chief executive admitted embezzling the money. The public naturally expected some difficult questions, some uncomfortable answers and perhaps even a little soul-searching from Scotland’s political class.
Instead, Holyrood responded by staging what can only be described as the world’s largest game of political pass-the-parcel.
The moment Labour tried to shine a spotlight on the scandal, politicians from every corner of Parliament sprang into action with the speed and agility normally reserved for people fleeing a restaurant bill.
Suddenly, nobody wanted to talk about the scandal itself.
No, no.
That would be far too straightforward.
Instead, Scotland’s politicians embarked on an Olympic-level competition to see who could drag the conversation furthest away from the original subject.
And what a magnificent spectacle it was.
The SNP’s response was essentially the political equivalent of being caught with your hand in the biscuit tin and immediately shouting, “Well what about the neighbour’s biscuits?”
The Greens arrived with all the enthusiasm of someone who had just discovered a fire extinguisher and decided the best way to deal with a candle was to spray the entire building. Why investigate one political party when you can investigate all of them and transform a specific scandal into a giant fog of procedural confusion?
Before long, Holyrood resembled less a parliament and more a drunken family Christmas argument where every relative has suddenly remembered something offensive that happened in 1997.
Every accusation was met with a counter-accusation. Every criticism was met with another scandal. Every uncomfortable question was wrapped in layers of whataboutery so thick they should qualify for loft insulation grants.
The public were asking a fairly simple question:
“How did over £400,000 disappear?”
Holyrood’s answer appeared to be:
“Let’s discuss literally everything else.”
It was like watching a magician perform the same trick over and over again.
“Observe the scandal!” 🎩
Waves hands dramatically.
“Now observe Labour.”
Waves hands dramatically.
“Now observe the Conservatives.”
Waves hands dramatically.
“Now observe donations from twenty years ago.”
Waves hands dramatically.
“Now observe absolutely anything that prevents us discussing the original question.”
By the end of the performance, the scandal itself had almost vanished beneath a mountain of political smoke, mirrors and theatrical outrage.
Quite an achievement, really.
David Copperfield made the Statue of Liberty disappear.
Holyrood managed to make accountability disappear.
The most remarkable part was the complete absence of self-awareness. Every politician in the chamber appeared convinced they were the fearless champion of transparency while simultaneously performing intellectual gymnastics worthy of a gold medal at the Commonwealth Games.
One side was screaming, “Look over there!”
The other side was screaming, “No, look over there!”
Meanwhile the public sat in the middle wondering whether anyone planned to answer the original question before retirement age.
Perhaps that’s why trust in politics is collapsing faster than a council-owned concrete staircase.
People don’t expect politicians to be perfect.
They do, however, expect them to occasionally answer a question without immediately responding with three different questions of their own.
Yet here we are.
A scandal involving hundreds of thousands of pounds somehow transformed into a debate about everyone, everything and everywhere all at once.
It was less an inquiry and more a political séance where MSPs desperately attempted to summon the ghosts of scandals past in the hope nobody noticed the corpse lying in the room.
And somewhere amidst all the shouting, finger-pointing and theatrical indignation sits a simple fact that no amount of parliamentary gymnastics can make disappear.
Over £400,000 vanished.
The public would quite like to know how.
Apparently that remains the least interesting part of the story for the people paid to explain it.
🔥 Challenges 🔥
Has Holyrood genuinely strengthened transparency, or simply buried one scandal beneath a pile of other scandals?
Are politicians interested in accountability, or just making sure accountability lands on somebody else’s doorstep?
And if £400,000 can vanish from a political party while everyone argues about everyone else, what confidence should voters have that anyone is actually minding the shop?
Chameleon Magazine 
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