It shouldn't have ended this way, it really shouldn't.

Alex Salmond bowed out as First Minister amid a benign outpouring of schmaltzy platitudes hopelessly at odds with the swaggering, street-fighting style he has brought to the Holyrood during his seven years at the top.

He was humble, understated and statesmanlike in his final Holyrood address. Opponents normally falling over themselves to stick the boot in gave him a bit of cuddle, praising his commitment and thanking him for his years of public service. This was Holyrood as a John Lewis Christmas ad. A strange, unsettling day indeed.

Mr Salmond used his farewell statement to reflect on the past.

The Scottish parliament had been a success in its 15 years, he said. The referendum had given Scotland "the most energised, empowered and informed electorate of any country in Europe." They now expected a more powerful Holyrood, he concluded. He left office, he told MSPs, with a sense of "optimism and confidence".

Jackie Baillie said his "considerable abilities" would be missed, before gently poking fun at his ability to combine running the country with playing a lot of golf. Wisely avoiding Ms Baillie's jokey tone, Ruth Davidson said his time in office was a game of two halves, a good half when he "stood shoulder to shoulder" with the Tories to get his budgets through and a less impressive spell after 2011 dominated by the referendum. Willie Rennie said his pursuit of independence had been divisive and wounds would take "many years to heal." The heresy was too much for the ranks of SNP backbenchers. Their adulatory reveries interrupted, they booed and hissed until even Mr Rennie started saying nice things.

The mood appeared to change briefly when Patrick Harvie blurted out the words "delusional bully," but it turned out he was referring to Donald Trump.

Mr Salmond? He was in the mould of JFK, insisted his old friend Stewart Stevenson, who likened the First Minister's achievements to putting a man on the moon.

It only remained for the First Minister to thank folks for thanking him.

Perhaps anticipating (and no doubt dreading) such a damp squib of a departure, Mr Salmond had a ruse up his sleeve. And what a ruse it was. Earlier in the day he unveiled a giant rock inscribed with his overblown, though admittedly memorable line: "The rocks will melt with sun before I allow tuition fees to be imposed on Scottish students". The lump was even decorated with a gilt sun to make the point. It was a jaw-dropping collision of hubris and poor taste. A place of pilgrimage it is sure to become.