Analysis by Maurice Smith
At the height of the independence campaign, as Gordon Brown paced the stage during his carefully-choreographed interventions, my attention was drawn to the faces of the party loyalists who had been co-opted into the act.
They sat behind him, dutifully holding their “No Thanks” placards and seemingly engrossed while the Great Man burped and farted through a familiar litany of rhetorical threat and constitutional half-promise.
Each intervention was billed as a major one, of course. Here was the Saviour of the Union, called in at the 11th hour to seize Scotland back from the jaws of narrow nationalism.
A desperate Westminster establishment had projected the Bat-sign over Gotham, and there was mighty Brownman ready to leap from his den in faraway Fife, where he took his rest from saving the world.