BY rights he should have closed the show with My Way.

Maybe even a blast of Gracie Fields's Wish Me Luck, or the Beatles' Hello, Goodbye. The most fitting song of all, alas, has not been written, unless someone really has penned a ditty called Don't Let the Door Hit Your Bahookey On the Way Out.

But come, come, that is no way to speak of Scotland's departing First Minister, Alex Salmond, appearing at his 215th and last First Minister's Questions. Then again, it is the Scottish way. We are a sentimental folk, but one would like to think we reserve our tears for things and people that deserve them, like the sick, poor, and persecuted, and re-runs of Little House on the Prairie.

Mr Salmond's departure is of his own choosing. He has not been sacked or made redundant. He does not need to worry where his next mortgage payment is coming from. After spells in the civil service, the private sector, and parliaments north and south of the Border, his pension pot is full to overflowing. Moreover, a new job, or rather returning to his old job as an MP, is his for the asking. Not for Mr Salmond a future of daytime television, the reduced-to-clear shelf at the supermarket, and the thrill of wondering how long he can keep the third bar of the fire on without going into debt.

But for all that we do not like to make a fuss, there was an end-of-an-era feel to FMQs yesterday, or, in case of Jackie Baillie, end of the pier. One assumes the contribution of the stand-in Labour leader was meant to be surreally comedic, but who knows with that bunch. In asking the FM to cough to a list of charges for past failings, she struck the wrong tone with spectacular force.

Willie Rennie, for the Liberal Democrats, judged matters perfectly by asking Mr Salmond to confirm he really was going (answer: so it seems), while Ruth Davidson, for the Scottish Tories, was as usual indefatigable in her chirpiness. Another face spotted in the crowd was the former Labour leader, Johann Lamont. Next to her was an empty chair. Was it something she said?

From the beginning, the Scottish Parliament was determined to hold its highest representative to account in a different way to Westminster. That intention was built into the very fabric of the building. In Holyrood the chamber would be soft, rounded, and as full of natural light as possible, in contrast to the dark, heavy, mano a mano set-up in the Commons where verbal duellists faced each other across a table. In the Commons chamber a chap was close enough to smell his enemies' fear. It was a place where macho men could be macho men, even if the most swashbuckling of all the combatants down the years would turn out to be a woman. Margaret Thatcher adored PMQs. Even when she was on her way out, she relished having her hands on the despatch box and her back, as she saw it, to the wall.

At Holyrood, the First Minister must turn to look at questioners. Direct eye contact can be avoided with a glance at one's papers, or a quick reccy of the troops behind. This is meant to defuse tension and lead to a more consensual approach. It does nothing of the sort, of course. There are as many clashes at Holyrood as there are at Westminster. One can have all the fancy design in the world, all the ergonomic tricks of the architect's trade, but politicians will be politicians.

It was once thought that the arrival of television would tame PMQs, but it is hard to see that this has happened. There has been no recent wielding of the Mace, alas, and there is less drunkenness, but red faces and shouting have not gone out of fashion yet. Here, Holyrood is at something of a disadvantage. Cameras did not come to the Commons until 1989; Holyrood had them from the start. Somehow, MSPs seemed to arrive camera-ready, too prepared to be on their best behaviour and not look like the rabble down south. I blame the desks. There is nothing that constrains outrage like a plank of wood across one's lap.

The two question times have more in common with each other than we might like to think, though. FMQs, like PMQs, is not meant to be a long, drawn out, Socratic affair complete with the doffing of caps and begging your pardons. It is a cage fight, quick and dirty with rules that are there to be stretched, a contest in which a knockout after the knockabout is the aim of the game. It is not pretty, and as a way of holding government to account it has severe limitations. But as a rough and ready test of mettle and ability we could do worse. If a politician cannot pick and choose the right topic of the day, the one the public wants to hear more about, if they are unable to take on their opponents and win an argument in concise terms, then they have no business being a party leader. Democracy, in short, would miss FMQs and PMQs.

The question now is how much will FMQs miss Mr Salmond? The First Minister, like Donald Dewar, brought a Commons swagger to FMQs. He treated it as a blood sport and, let us be honest, he was hardly tested by his opponents. More often than not, those about to face him resembled that poor goat tied to a post outside the T-Rex's enclosure in Jurassic Park. Week after week, one just knew things were not going to end happily for little Billy Goat Gruff, Johann, Ruth or Willie. If he could not bite their heads off with civil service-supplied facts, the First Minister blustered them into submission. It was never an equal contest and in consequence it became woefully predictable.

Mr Salmond will miss the outings, certainly. Many others will welcome a chance of face and pace. There will be three new faces, or new-ish. Nicola Sturgeon, soon to be crowned FM, will take on two other members of the sisterhood in Ms Baillie (for a while, anyway) and Ms Davidson.

There was a glimpse of this new, feminised Scotland in Ms Sturgeon's party political broadcast this week. Featuring many a scene of the new leader chatting to women over coffee or in the street, Scotland was made to seem as if it had been transformed into one big episode of Sex and the City. Please God, let it not be so. What we want from FMQs under Ms Sturgeon is business as usual - to wit, Scotland's leader being held to account - but better. Let us have a more equal contest, and a shade more light thrown on matters as well as heat.

As for Mr Salmond, he will be continuing as an MSP and will therefore be able to return for FMQs whenever he likes, though he will not get the best seat in the house. Who knows, if he does end up being a kingmaker after the General Election next year, he could be trading his place at FMQs for one at PMQs. Which position will he be in then, you ask? Now there is a question.