Listening to Kirsty Wark’s cawing voice last night, watching her, raven-black dress, stalk the city under its high corby-staned gables and then reflecting on this attempt to peck at the reputation of an elder statesman she and the BBC despise, who, of my generation, was not reminded of that ancient Scottish ballad, The Twa Corbies?

The casting of Alex Salmond as the ‘new slain knight‘ about to have his eyes pecked out by a crow may not be perfect but everything else about the broadcast was so evocative of that scene.

Leading corvid in this time of covid, Kirsty Wark does have the look and not just in her clothes. Her voice does caw and even her surname suggests the sound one might make – WAARK!

When she gathered her own wee murder (the correct collective term) of crows, Smith, Smith and Garavelli, to feast on the fleshy tales from Bute House, they too fit the bill, though I guess we licence-payers footed it. Bill, get it?

The location was perfect. A city full of actual crows and jackdaws stalking corby-staned gables under dark skies and the legal profession ravenous in their robes and bills. Bills, get it?