I WON’T name the person involved in case my praise embarrasses them.

A few years ago, I reported on a potential scandal looming over an MSP. There were disputed allegations about money, the police got involved, and ultimately the Crown Office.

In the end, the authorities concluded there had been nothing criminal going on and it all faded away into the footnotes of Holyrood history.

But as I reported on the twists and turns over several months, the strain of a career-ending fuss undoubtedly took its toll on the person involved.

They were always professional when I went to them for a comment, but there was invariably a question, only half in jest, about when I was going to stop and accept their innocence.

One day, there was a big development. The police had sent their findings to prosecutors.

The story would appear as an exclusive in the paper the next day.

But before then, knowing the story was about to break, my quarry had to take part in a live TV election debate.

When I got to the venue with the rest of the press corps, the person was going over their talking points with colleagues as if nothing else mattered.

They could see me, the emissary of their misery, a few yards away.

But there was not even the slightest sign of the dread inside, the acid sloshing in the pit of the stomach.

The viewers of that debate wouldn’t have detected anything amiss either.

Despite knowing the presses would be rolling as they stood in front of the cameras, the person was their usual self, outwardly calm and in control.

I have to admit it, I was impressed.

Some people might think the ability of politicians to remain detached from the events around them borders on the sociopathic, but I saw this a textbook example of grace under pressure.

This person had a job to do for their party - go on TV and get some votes. Their personal worries came second.

They very possibly chewed the furniture and cursed me out in private, but there was no hint of that in the public sphere, where it would only have amplified the hullabaloo.

They resisted the temptation, and it did them a great deal of credit.

That is only one small example of what our tribunes put up with.

The stresses on Nicola Sturgeon, or any party leader, are immeasurably greater, and the self-restraint required to deal with them in due proportion.

Politics has always been rough, but it’s getting far rougher thanks to social media and the competitive trolling the idle dim mistake for insight.

Take this week’s stooshie involving SNP MP Joanna Cherry, who had a lawyer’s letter requesting £2500 sent to one of her online critics.

Actor David Paisley had questioned her donation to a crowdfunder appeal set up by barrister Sarah Phillimore, who describes herself as “critical of transgender ideology”.

Ms Phillimore is challenging the police for recording tweets she made as “non-crime hate incidents”, arguing they weren’t hatred at all and the police should delete their records.

Ms Cherry donated to her appeal on the grounds of defending free speech.

Mr Paisley’s muddled pop at Ms Cherry linked the cash to the separate Fair Cop group co-founded by Ms Phillimore, calling it a “hate group”.

Ms Cherry’s lawyers said the “defamatory” inference was that she had donated to a hate group and demanded two grand for her legal fees, plus £500 to a charity of her choice.

The writers charity Scottish PEN said this approach risked having a “chilling effect on broader attempts to hold power to account”.

When the Herald on Sunday reported it all, Ms Cherry got on the head of her favourite dancing pin and sniffed there was “no such action in court”, even though there clearly had been action by her lawyers.

“Defamatory claims about my position on trans rights by the likes of the actor in question and others have effectively put a target on my back and led to online abuse and threats of sexual violence which are now the subject of criminal charges,” she said.

“In the circumstances I am wholly within my rights to take steps to protect my reputation.”

Ms Cherry is often spoken of as a potential leader of the SNP; rarely has she looked so unsuited to the role and so far from achieving it.

As I’ve said before, I respect Ms Cherry and her talent is self-evident.

But putting m’learned friends on speed dial is death to her ambitions.

To be any kind of politician you need the hide of a rhino, to be a leader you need steel plate. You also need to look impervious, with shoulders broad enough to carry superhuman weight.

Rapid resort to the law doesn’t project that image. Leaders don’t waste time stamping on ants.

If some bloke off River City gets gobby on Twitter, hell mend them.

If you take on every nuisance, you’ll never win. There’s always another one lolloping over the horizon.

Worse, if you become known for responding to all and sundry, some people will make it into a sport and bait you just for fun, theirs that is.

The world, sadly, contains an inexhaustible supply of stupidity and malice, and a disproportionate share will always come the way of people with a public profile.

It may not be fair or just, but modern political life often requires a giant shovel just to get through the day, and the ability to stay calm in the face of it.

As my quarry of a few years ago showed, rising above it and staying focused is an invaluable asset.

As Ms Cherry watches Ms Sturgeon go through the wringer at FMQs today over the Alex Salmond affair, she and other pretenders to her job should consider if they have what it takes.