I thought of the plight of the bumblebee again this week when I watched George Galloway and then Alex Salmond on separate occasions, both control and power through opponents.

It evoked memories of those long hot summers of the 1970s summers when we went out with jam jars to catch bees.

Where I grew up in Airdrie, an endangered species in a fragile ecosystem was our own scheme punk, called Womble. I always admired his bravery and commitment.

While Womble would physically melt for his art in the searing heat, we would go out and run care free, doing what we were told "away out and get some fresh air". Womble would always look incongruous, part Ziggy Stardust, part New York Doll.

We would go on walks for miles, cross vast fields of corn, through the long grass, have wild adventures, play on tree swings up the Bluebell woods, play soldiers in disused quarries. We always took jam jars on the lookout for bees. Honeybees, smaller and slimmer, looked like a wasp. We preferred the bumblebees, fat and furry, especially big queenies who lived in a nest.

We weren't total sadists, we used to have a conscience. We'd pierce the lid with a fork to provide oxygen, maybe throw in a little wildflower, the odd daffodil, maybe a snapdragon, fennel, angelica, some flowering clover, heather, yes we even knew the favourite plants for the bees.

Salmond and Galloway were doing the equivalent; two political heavyweights trapping their opponents, letting them bounce off the proverbial political jam jar. Though they didn't give their opponents any oxygen or flowers. Everyone they come up against must feel like a floundering clumsy 1970s bumblebee.

We thought we were helping the bees by providing some air but were probably doing the bee equivalent of water boarding at Guantanamo Bay. All those trails went cold decades ago when they decided to build new houses. I blame them for the bad bee karma.

I was delighted to hear two beehives were recently installed at Holyrood. At first I thought the debating chamber had become a 1960s kitchen sink drama with Johann Lamont and Nicola Sturgeon giving it some in the full beehive.

Someone else who knows about bees is George Galloway. I've heard him talk for hours on the very subject.

It all connected when I watched Galloway ease through the Newsnight Scotland debate on the independence referendum with Jim Sillars and with Alex Salmond at First Minsters Questions. Galloway showed up for his TV appearance looking like he'd just come from a snooker game and did this thing where he knew Sillars too well, he got him onside, but old Sillars wasn't daft, he knew his tricks. He grudgingly came onside while George then flirted with the panel.

"I am with Sillars for Sensible Socialism", George reminded us. It was supposed to be a head to head but they were both playing in the same position, mavericks on the left wing, way too long. As I watched, I was thinking they'd changed party at least four times between them which probably says more than anything.

Salmond toyed, bullied and destroyed Lamont's deputy Jackie Bailie at FMQs. Another case of sweeties fae weans, there being no sentiment in the political cauldron. It was like watching a gladiator slice through a defenceless toothless, one eyed, three legged lion.

It's difficult to work out if Salmond and Galloway are individually so good or the others so poor. Either way it can't be good for democracy if there's such a weak and ineffective opposition. If I were up against wee Alex, I'd attack his vanity and point out that the First Minister's hair is getting thinner by the week, then ask if he's scared of the referendum? At this rate he'll be like Kojak come September 18.

At one point in Thursdays FMQs the FM left Jackie Baillie with an expression on her napper that looked like a blobfish taking a charity selfie without it's make up on.

In fact Alex Salmond had the same expression when he was asked to apologise. But the closest resemblance to anything remotely political has to be Nick Clegg who swam into Aberdeen, famed for its huge floundering haddies this morning to talk down to the nation. Nick Blobfish.

The Swiss Ambassador was warmly applauded at Holyrood this week. His Excellency Dr. Dominik Furgler is the double of Masterchef's Greg Wallace. I've always found something strange about the Swiss, especially their army, who make incredible knives but don't fight to make use of it.

Nick Clegg and Nigel Farage appeared in a debate on Britain's future in Europe. Contain yourself there…I never saw it. I hear Farage won it. That's good, he seems like the sort of guy who likes a pint, a fag and hides his hatred of Johnny Foreigner behind academic rhetoric. That's great isn't it? (Adopts clueless cockney cab driver accent). He talks sense though doesn't he, eh? No, I had a problem with my TV. It started to violently vomit a radioactive oily substance in a parabolic projectile motion. When I turned over it stopped. I asked the TV what was up and it said, 'are there two more insignificant yet toxic players in the UK political landscape?'I agreed and switched off.