Salmond reined in his pitbull instincts and found his inner wounded puppy

AT 12.25 a digital display popped up on the Scottish Parliament TV screen, counting down the minutes to Alex Salmond’s longawaited committee appearance.

The seconds ticked, with a growing anticipation of the timebomb about to blast apart Scottish politics. Perhaps we were expecting Salmond, the skilled orator and accomplished debater, to deliver an epic clash akin to George Galloway’s famous performance in the US Senate. But after the dramatic build-up of the last few weeks, the cancelled appearances and rumours of smoking guns – spoiler alert, it didn’t match up to the hype. The conspiracy theorists will have to keep their “End is Nigh for Nicola” placards for another day. Salmond had reined in his pitbull instincts and found instead his inner wounded puppy – and was less scorching the earth than peeing on the lawn. “This is not about me,” said Salmond in his opening statement, reminding the committee they were not meant to be scrutinising him but the Scottish Government’s shambolic investigation of the harassment claims against him. But this was the first time he’d spoken publicly since he walked free from court and he was the only star in town. Salmond, a politician gifted at holding journalists in the palm of his hand, told the committee he had chosen not to speak to the media. He said: “I have turned down hundreds of such offers which as committee members will know has not hitherto been my normal policy.” For a self-publicist like Salmond that was one hell of a sacrifice. Initially there was nervousness, his throat catching, his mouth dry, his shoulders weighted and his breathing tight. Salmond spoke of the toll of his ordeal, financially and personally, emphasising his victimhood, with only passing recognition of the complainants’ suffering.

There was emphatic, rehearsed outrage, where we half expected a director to shout “cut”.

Salmond was “astonished” that “the First Minister, the First Minister of Scotland, used a Covid Press conference, a Covid press conference” to effectively question the jury in his case.

Legal restraints, he said, had the committee, “neutered” and “blindfolded with their arms tied behind their back” but again no cognisance of legitimate concerns the complainers not be identified.

He found an odd ally in Tory MSP and Brexit campaigner Margaret Mitchell who fed him chances to dig at Sturgeon, adopting the tactic – my enemy’s enemy is my friend.

Salmond said he wanted a “leadership which is strong and robust and capable of protecting each and every citizen from arbitrary authority”.

But what about the abuse of the authority he had exerted over women who worked for him?

Salmond was cleared of 13 charges of sexual assault after a trial last year but he was still a married man prone to being sleazy and that “sleepy cuddle” with staff under his charge.

Lib Dem Alex Cole-Hamilton was keen to remind him of this. He asked

Salmond: “Laying aside the charges of which you’ve been acquitted, and the allegations that you deny, of the behaviours that you have admitted to, some of which are appalling, are you sorry?”

If looks could kill, ColeHamilton would have needed an undertaker and there was no apology from Salmond.

Committee convener Linda Fabiani had to remind the two men to curb the mutual mansplaining as they squabbled, showing barely concealed contempt for each other.

She said: “Can I just make it very clear that it’s my job to decide all these things, so would the two of you just think of what we are here for.”

Outside the Holyrood bubble, it was easy to get lost in the technical tangle of policy chat.

But boiled down, what emerged was a parliament which has consistently failed alleged victims of sexual harassment.

Salmond defended the fairness at work policy under his reign, saying it covered harassment, so there was no need to specify sexual harassment.

Complaints were dealt with “informally” in back rooms and in