No place for sticky tape in political TV

For a small country, Scotland has a hell of a lot of political activity. This should be any journalist’s dream. Never mind the presence of our esteemed Prime Minister and Chancellor of the Exchequer at Westminster or the snakepits of internecine warfare that are our councils, Holyrood annually provides opportunities for kilometres of printed columns and broadcasting that runs into months, rather than hours.

In the latter area, the country is exceptionally well served in terms of talent, even if Andrew Neil and Andrew Marr now prefer to concentrate on the mother of parliaments. Pick of the broadcasting bunch is Iain Macwhirter who combines the rare abilities of being as effective in print as with the spoken word and having the gift for distilling complex political issues and presenting them in an accessible form that loses none of its intellectual integrity. The BBC, Herald, Sunday Herald and Guardian Unlimited all benefit from his wisdom – but not as much as do the listeners and readers.

Close behind is Brian Taylor – as reliable and friendly as a Labrador who effortlessly blends wit and gravitas with a faultless sensitivity.

And then there is Glenn Campbell, who is a bona fide star of the small screen. Polished and relaxed, Campbell’s marries a youthful appearance with a deep, hypnotic voice that carries a sense of the inescapable wisdom of cherished fatherly advice. His will be a difficult seat to fill when he finally leaves The Politics Show Scotland, as Gary Robertson found out on Sunday.

That was not entirely Robertson’s fault. Competent if understandably nervy and relying too heavily on printed notes, it can have helped him none at all that the show looked like it was put together with sticky tape.

The UK show started with drugs, moving to Scotland where Robertson introduced Annabel Goldie, telling us that they would be discussing drugs policy following the infamous deal at the Scottish budget. He then passed on to Sally McNair in Glasgow who moved to Christine McCormack in Aberdeen for a report on the evacuation of an oil rig.

McCormack, who appeared to still be in her coat from Sunday church, stuttered through 60 seconds of numbers without being able to shed any light on events before signing off with a “back to you Sally”. (Presumably, over and out is not favoured in the BBC style guide). Returning to McNair telling us yet again that Gary Robertson will be discussing drugs strategy “on The Politics Show in a few minutes time”.

By now the viewers should at least have been primed for the upcoming content.

Facing Annabel Goldie, Robertson strove to be provocative, mischievously opening with the proposition that, post-budget, the Tory “influence is over, isn’t it”, and later asking if the party was now part of a right-wing alliance with the SNP. In Goldie, however, Robertson was up against too shrewd and wizened a political stager to be upset at such obvious tactics.

If ever a face could be “set like flint”, it is Goldie’s (not the most desirable quality for a woman who claimed she could offer “sex” in the Holyrood election campaign debate) and if anything she appeared to gain in strength as the interview progressed.

What Robertson has yet to master is the ability of Campbell, Taylor and Macwhirter to listen carefully to the answers he is given and quickly formulate an incisive question based on them. Picking up the pace with interruptions is not enough to throw the most seasoned politicians off their stride.

He did raise some issues on the apparent conflict between the Tories as unionists “propping up” separatists, working with LibDems and Labour, and trying to reconcile those positions with national Tory policy. But without the ability to probe deeply, the interview was less than engaging and too reminiscent of all too familiar throwaway sessions that have become the norm in recent years.

A final question on the then breaking story of the oil rig evacuation after a security alert (later found to be a false alarm) belonged in a school magazine: “Is this something we should be concerned about?”

A feature on drug rehabilitation for women was followed by Robertson’s interview with Community Safety Minister Fergus Ewing, who the presenter had earlier described as the “Drugs Minister”. By now growing in confidence, Robertson homed in on the disagreement on the value of methadone and had Ewing waffling uncomfortably as he desperately tried to give the impression of consensus where none exists.

Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of the whole programme was the fact that no reference was made to the national show’s interviews with Rabbi Aryeh Sufrin, the Chief Executive of Drugsline and the former Home Secretary, David Blunkett on the re-classification of cannabis. Remarkable, but not surprising, given that the Scottish element of the show gave the impression of comprising independent units taking a guess at what the others were thinking.

There is room for sympathy when a potentially massive story begins to break just before a show goes on the air and throws the news agenda on its head. But the content and format of The Politics Show is such that it should have been easy to produce a cohesive broadcast unaffected by a flurry of newsroom activity, even if that did involve a final report from Jim Murray, displaying his thermal vest and lopsided spectacles.

Whatever the BBC pays for Glenn Campbell’s calm exterior, it’s not enough.