PERHAPS inevitably, the Maybot chose a computing centre for her farewell speech to Scotland. She can’t help it. It’s in her algorithms.

So her handkerchief-free goodbye was in Codebase, a hub for IT start-ups in Stirling. 
And only the Maybot, who lacks the code for irony, could make a speech on saving the Union a short hop from William Wallace’s most famous victory. On US Independence Day.

The Herald:

The Codebase coda had all the hallmarks of a May event. No atmosphere? Check. Zero banter? Uh-huh. Everyone got better things to do? Too right. 

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Actually, that’s not entirely fair. There was a small crowd outside – protesters waving Yes Saltires on poles. One sported a T-shirt with the anatomically taxing instruction “shove the union up your a***”. 

There were no takers. 

Local students had also taped a poster to the building, in a deceptive Tory blue, asking “Should Scotland be an independent country?”

It was quickly removed, presumably by someone whose answer is a hard No.
Across the road, a banner hung from a lamppost showing a gory red map of “Bloody Scotland”, an advert for a coming crime writing festival. 

Or possibly Boris Johnson’s next election slogan.

Inside, the criminal theme continued. The audience of a few dozen party activists had been joined by former Labour MSP Gordon Jackson QC, now Dean of the Faculty of Advocates. “I’m nosy,” explained the surprise guest.

You’d have to be.  

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Mrs May’s outriders had touted a moving, even “inspirational” speech. The iron caress of her vocal cords meant that was never likely.

However it did carry a sting. 

She had come to lecture her successor on the importance of holding the UK together. 
She was a champion of the Union. An expert. In fact, on her watch, it had never been weaker, thanks to Brexit and that Nicola Sturgeon not playing ball on devolution, and nothing teaches you how to fix stuff like breaking it, you know.

So her advice to Boris Johnson and Jeremy Hunt was not to trust tricksy Nats who only wanted independence (who knew?) and fight for the Union before it’s “too late”. 

It was a curious swan song.

Enthusiastic about the Union’s qualities, fretful about its longevity. At the end, in a former council building where elections were often decided on a cut of the cards, you wondered if the UK’s chances were now also 50-50.