INITIALLY there was limited regard to the enquiry into the Scottish Government's handling of harassment complaints against Alex Salmond. Then came suddenly a fevered interest.

As soon as Mr Salmond appeared, Scotland was on the UK-wide media radar and the hot takes came boiling forth - we're living in a tinpot dictatorship, said some. It's a banana republic, said others. One party state was a common refrain.

Those who wanted to put in a bit more effort than merely trotting out meaningless soundbites said the whole thing had robbed them of their belief in devolution entire.

Holyrood's committee system was in the spotlight and the expectation was a show of serious, grown up business. Not so. The committee, made up of four SNP members, four opposition, and one independent, has ranged in conduct from the comical to the critically poor.

There's always a bit of blush-worthy nonsense afoot in politics. Just yesterday we had Scottish Lib Dem leader Willie Rennie putting out a statement on the draft independence referendum bill that began "holy moly". Holy smokes. We can feel the heat rise to our faces while also chortling just a little.

Elements of the committee's conduct have been embarrassing but laughable. I cannot count how many times on Twitter I've seen someone waggishly ask if Margaret Mitchell is still talking.

Her extended stream of conscious babble when trying to make a point at the close of Nicola Sturgeon's testimony was part-amusing, part-alarming and part-I've-just-cringed-out-an-eyeball.

Linda Fabiani’s displays of exasperation have been a sight to behold. Thank goodness for Jackie Baillie's fine attention to detail, given the wildly varying quality of questioning we've seen.

But these are fripperies in comparison to other committee conduct, which range from unprofessional to contemptuous.

I'm writing this an hour before James Hamilton's report looking at whether Nicola Sturgeon knowingly broke the ministerial code is expected to be published.

Already Mr Hamilton is streets ahead of our elected members. He has successfully managed not to leak information. He has not taken part in a pre-recorded TV interview. He has not chattered on Twitter. The lawyer has been an exemplary example of how to conduct official business. The sort of example the committee should have set.

How unedifying to see members tweet about proceedings while the evidence sessions were ongoing. Andy Wightman, one of the more solid members of the panel, did a sound job of questioning Alex Salmond during the former First Minister's testimony.

But minutes after the six hour event was finished, Mr Wightman appeared on twitter to say, "Phew". It's hardly loquacious but it should not have been said. Even a single word can be interpreted any number of ways - and there should have been no insights into committee thinking while the committee was sitting.

Ditto taking part in a Panorama interview in the middle of the enquiry.

However, the really shameful element of committee conduct is leaks of information to the press. Firstly, last week's segment detailing findings that Ms Sturgeon broke the ministerial code by giving misleading information to the committee, leading to a frenzy of half-truths and guesses over the influence its findings might have on the future of the Scottish political landscape when the full report was yet to be seen.

Then, worse, the betrayal of the confidence of two women who had been courageous enough to speak out about sexual harassment compelling Rape Crisis Scotland to make a statement on their behalf. An appalling violation of trust.

This committee was tasked with a serious business. Public trust in politics and political processes has been badly bruised. We must know that the scaffolding in place to uphold parliamentary integrity works, that it can function to make repairs when damage is done.

In that, the committee has failed. Instead, it looks petty, biased and unconcerned with the business of integrity - a business it was supposed to hold in high esteem.