You always have this cinematic vision of independence: a romantic, poetic and courageous image.

The emotive tug of the heartstrings; the narrative of a Walter Scott novel, a call to arms while the plaintive echoes of history softly whisper through the ages.

You're standing on an abandoned, windswept moor. Sad Uilleann pipes play as Neil Oliver jumps from his helicopter with a film crew, getting paid a fortune no doubt for wasting the moment and spoiling your view.

For some, it's more aggressive, a wee daft guy on a Clydesdale pony, Saltire make-up on, with an Australian accent who hates Jews,  roaring about freedom and sounding about as Scottish as Russ Abbott doing his C U Jimmy character.

Then we have the other vision of a nation, part pragmatic and level-headed, part sexy. The modern European indie nation, generating wealth from North Sea Oil?

A financial hub, a country of endeavour, invention and social conscience; helping the poor and protecting the sick. A forward thinking, welcoming country full of creativity, film-makers, artists and musicians collectively pushing the arts.

Then there's the reality. The long search for Scotland's independent soul could hinge, believe it or not, on whether TV viewers in an independent Scotland would still get to see Eastenders and Coronation Street.   

Fiona Hyslop was a guest on Radio 4's Media Show this week. The first exchange with the Cabinet Secretary for Culture and External Affairs involved whether people in Scotland would still get Eastenders in an independent Scotland?

Yes they would, she confirmed and all would be revealed in next week's White Paper. It made it sound like the Christmas version of the Radio Times.

I quite like Hyslop - she's a capable, effective politician - but it all sounded like a bit of fun for the show's long-term presenter Steve Hewlett, with his big fat just-back-from-an-expensive-business-lunch good looks.

Broadcasting would be a lynchpin issue in the debate, suggested Steve. The general point was that people might be put off voting for independence if they didn't have a guarantee that their favourite soap was still going to be broadcast.

Alex Salmond's Edinburgh Declaration that Scotland will still get Eastenders was also highlighted in the show, and quite rightly mimicked.

For the record, Fiona is a Corrie fan and seemed quite giddy about visiting the set of Wetherfield once she'd finished flirting with old Steve. The show told us more about the way the English are viewing the independence debate. The debate distilled down to whether a nation will still get a soap opera.

FX EIGHTIES SOULLESS DRUMBEAT : Doof doof doof doof doof duph-duph-duph-duph…

In a previous Impolitic, I mentioned that instead of asking David Cameron to have a TV debate, it would be far more entertaining if George Galloway took on Alex Salmond. Two great forensic minds going at it.    

Contacts within the media world (aka the internet) have informed me that Galloway is actively seeking a verbal joust with the First Minister. The FM is keeping his distance, his people keep rejecting the proposal.  

The Respect leader suggested the TV debate could take place in the Usher Hall in Edinburgh but, believe me, it's bigger than that. Think the Hydro and Still Game, the O2 and Monty Python. Forget Sky or the BBC, this is Box Office baby. Let's get Don King on board - let's make it happen. A TV debate with those two? You wouldn't be able to get them past the mirrors.

In a week where Monty Python announced their comeback, we are reminded that politics and comedy have always been strange bedfellows. Since attempting to parody the Dead Parrot sketch at the 1990 Tory Party Conference, Margaret Thatcher like most political leaders always think they can sweep in with a bit of comedy. They rarely, if ever get it right.

Coincidentally,  while this week Johann Lamont and Alex Salmond attempted jokes at Holyrood, at Westminster, Cameron and Miliband were at it as well. They all seem to think they're hilarious.

Like most people, they don't realise that comedy is a structured art, honed, nuanced and disciplined. It's just those who do it, do it really well and make it look easy. It can easily come apart if they miss a few key ingredients.

The biggest mistake with politicians is generally pace, timing and content. Johann Lamont sounds uncertain at the best of times but when she tries to do jokes she sounds like your nervous auntie.

If Lamont or Salmond need their house rewired, would they ever attempt to do that? Let me see: right this wire goes in here. So why are they trying to deliver funny lines not only under political pressure from their opponents but also on live TV? Delusion once again sets in and they think they're Woody Allen or Kevin Bridges.

(On the subject of Python, wouldn't it be absolutely hilarious if no one went to see them? Just a cleaner with a brush sweeping up and shaking his head at their misplaced ambition. It won't happen though, people seem to treat comedy like a rock'n'roll gig these days, it will probably be a 10-night sell-out.)

Surely more political capital should've been gleaned from the recent snub of Dundee, missing out to Hull for City of Culture? Maybe it's the first of many decisions that will start to weigh in favour of England if Scotland go for independence?

Admittedly my decision isn't based on any great in-depth analysis. Just a simple point. Have you ever been to Hull? It makes Dundee look like Monaco. They call magpies flying penguins.