In a surprise development, there has been an outbreak of bickering at Holyrood. I’m not talking about the bickerfest that is the election. I’m talking about an internal matter, as it were, regarding the influential position of Presiding Officer.

The PO chairs the parliamentary hullabaloo and is, in a way, rather like a football referee, except that they must get most of their decisions right. At Westminster, the equivalent title is Speaker as, by and large, they do not speak.

Speaking of which, the gist of the aforementioned brouhaha is as follows. The sitting PO has stood down, so to say, and the various parties are bickering as to who should take her place.

The “her” under advisement was Tricia Marwick, who was an SNP MSP, and now Labour are demanding that the next reincarnation be from another party, such as, er, Labour.

I intend remaining impartial on this party political row, mainly out of fear, particularly of the Labour Party, which always seems so angry and bitter.

But I thought I’d draw your attention to the importance of the post and the qualities needed for anyone mad enough to accept it. The main quality required is indeed impartiality, which is an ideal held dearly by journalists, politicians, judges and other confidence tricksters.

It doesn’t really exist, but is ever an aspiration. In its execution, some people are so impartial they become, well, partial. In other words, left-wing journalists write right-wing stuff to show that they are fair. In politics, there’s a similar risk of POs being fairer to former political opponents than to their own side. To that extent, MSPs might be better arguing that the job be given to someone from another party.

Usually, though, this over-impartiality settles down and Holyrood has been lucky in this regard with its four POs hitherto: Wee Davey Steel, Medium-Sized George Reid, Big Alex Fergusson, and the aforementioned Ms Marwick. That’s two Nats, one LibDem and one Tory for those counting.

They have each earned the respect of their peers (indeed, Wee Davey actually became a peer) and have proven that the position is not so much a poisoned chalice as a slightly manky mug. What other qualities are needed, then, to sip from such cracked crockery?

Well, one must maintain order among those entrusted to run our country and whose behaviour, consequently, would shame the average school playground. Only Westminster and the Stock Exchange in yonder London involves more shouting, and it’s sobering to think that the most important aspects of British life are conducted on such rowdy lines.

At Holyrood, readers may recall Ms Marwick had to tell James Kelly, representing a party that I do not wish to name but which is notoriously bitter and angry (they put the resent in representative), to sit down no fewer than 11 times.

Mr Kelly made his constitutional position clear – “Ah’m no gonnae sit doon” – and so Ms Marwick was forced to instruct the orderlies to escort James and his undescended buttocks from the premises.

That’s an extreme part of the job. Most of it is more routine, and POs must display the patience of a heavily sedated Buddha while sitting through hours of droning speeches or dull but disturbing contributions by those who put the tory in oratory or, indeed, the bore in Labore.

Another part of the job is to stop politicians waffling, which brings to mind the allusion of the little fellow in yonder Netherlands with his finger in the dyke. Lastly, the PO is responsible for monitoring MSPs’ attire, so that a modicum of respectability might be maintained.

Under the heading Habiliments, Millinery and Peculiar Costumery, Standing Order 32 (a.ii) “forbids the following under pain of imprisonment: 1. Floral trousers. 2. Hats wider than the circumference of the cranium. 3. Football insignia, unless pertaining to Hibernian. 4. Waistcoats fairly deemed outlandish. 5. Garments with holes, except buttonholes. 6. Dungarees. 7. Taffeta. 8. Ruffs. 9. Woolly hats with the words ‘Huddersfield Tourist Board’ written on them (see precedent in appendix D). 10. Pyjamas and other nightwear.”

As can be seen, there’s more to this job than meets the eyepatch. The position is second only to the Queen and the Chooky Embra in Scotia Minor’s ceremonial order or precedence. This is important as it means you get quite a good seat at formal dinners.

Accordingly, we wish the next incumbent the best of luck, unless it is Mr Kelly. We could not stand for that.