Salmond inquiry: Peter Murrell’s testimony takes us all for idiots

It’s tough being married to a party leader, Prime Minister, First Minister, even, I daresay, President of the United States. Some spouses prefer to keep in the background, concentrating on making home life as agreeable and comfortable as possible. This is wise; an active politically-committed spouse can be embarrassing.

It becomes difficult, of course, if one spouse happens to be chief executive of the party the other spouse leads. There are matters you might be expected to discuss with the party leader; it might indeed be your duty to do so. On the other hand government business is forbidden territory. This at least is how it seems to be in Bute House, the official residence of the First Minister of Scotland, Nicola Sturgeon. Her husband, Peter Murrell, the chief executive of the SNP, knows not to trespass, knows also when to wear a blindfold and keep schtum. 

So it was, it seems, when Sturgeon told her husband on 2 April, 2018, that Alex Salmond was coming to see her that day, having something important to discuss.

The conversation that follows is imaginary.

NS:“Alex is coming to see me today. There’s something on his mind.”

PM: Anything I should know about?”

NS: “I don’t know what it’s about.”

(She says this, having forgotten that Alex Salmond’s former chief of staff, Geoff Aberdein, had warned her three or four days previously that allegations of sexual misconduct had been made against her predecessor as First Minister, who was also her long-time friend and mentor. Of course such little things slip easily from the mind of a busy politician.)

PM:” But do you think it’s party business or government business? “

NS : “Don’t know. Could be either. Could be both.”

PM: “Difficult. I think I’d better keep out of the way. He’ll speak more frankly to you alone. If it concerns the party you can fill me in later.”

So he went off to his office. This we know. When he came back later in the day, there were now several people with his wife and Salmond. He popped his head round the door, concluded (one assumes) that this was no place for him, and retired to the bathroom to shower.

Later, having decided that the presence of others meant it was government business, he set aside any natural curiosity and asked no questions. One has to admire his restraint. 

“When she says she can’t talk, you know not to probe”, he told the Scottish parliamentary committee this week investigating what has become The Salmond Affair. Wise man. You don’t survive twenty years as chief executive of a political party without coming to appreciate the merits of the Mafia’s commitment to “omerta”.

It’s unfortunate that Murrell’s version of events somewhat contradicts written testimony that his wife has given to the committee, but no doubt this can all be cleared up and explained away when she comes to give evidence in person. 

Until then Murrell can be accused of nothing worse than a lack of chivalry. Like the three monkeys, he hears no evil, sees no evil and speaks no evil. He wears a blindfold and stops his ears.

So he told the committee that while Salmond as leader and First Minister could be difficult and demanding, he himself had known nothing about rumours of allegations of sexual impropriety. That’s the great thing about keeping your ears plugged. You can’t hear what you don’t want to hear. It is a dozen years since the political correspondent of a national newspaper told me that Salmond would run into trouble over allegations from women. But one must assume that such a thought, or vile calumny, never crossed Murrell’s pure mind.

On the other hand, once Salmond was in the dock Murrell seems to have been quite eager to see him discredited, even perhaps convicted. This at any rate is how an ordinary person might understand the text message he sent to an unknown recipient, in which he said “the more fronts he is having to fire-fight on the better”. Not so, if you are to believe Murrell who told the committee that he was worried, very worried, about the women who had made allegations against Mr Salmond. “That’s what that’s about,” he said.

The English language is quite rich in words and phrases expressing incredulity. “Pull the other one” might do as a mild response here.

None of this proves that Murrell was party to any plot to destroy Salmond, who was cleared, and prevent the former First Minister from making a political comeback. It doesn’t indeed prove that there was any such plot, as Salmond claims there was. It does however suggest, to put it mildly, that the sight of Salmond in the dock didn’t distress the husband of the present First Minister.

Murrell’s evidence has not impressed the committee. Several MSPs are demanding Murrell return to clarify his evidence and provide fresh answers. It may not impress his party either. Some cruel folk may even wonder if he is up to the job of SNP chief executive.I doubt if it has made things easier for the First Minister – that is, his wife. “War is Peace” was one of the Newspeak slogans in “Nineteen Eighty-Four”. When I say “the more fronts he is fire-fighting on the better”, I mean “I’m worried about the women” is less pithy, but just as questionable.

Almost twenty years ago the then First Minister Henry McLeish was forced to resign. His offence was failure to record the sub-letting of a room in his constituency office. He protested that he was guilty of a muddle, not a fiddle, but protested in vain. Now there is no suggestion of a fiddle, but we certainly have a Murrell – sorry, I mean of course, a muddle.

Who knows how it will end. Only one thing is clear. The Murrell doesn’t do Mrs Muddle any good. 

Apologies: confusion is catching. This is what happens when things get murrelled. Or muddled. Or whatever.