DAYS on from “that” Instagram selfie with Alastair Campbell and Nicola Sturgeon’s choice in picture partners continues to be called into question.

Yesterday, a group of peace activists, writing to The Herald, were the latest to criticise the First Minister for grinning and bearing the company of a man they hold responsible for spinning an illegal invasion of Iraq that cost the deaths of 179 UK soldiers and hundreds of thousands of Iraqis.

One does wonder what on Earth the FM was thinking. Maybe it was a Jack Straw/Robert Mugabe moment when the then UK Foreign Secretary momentarily failed to recognise the tyrant with whom he was shaking hands.

Selfie condemned

Or maybe the snap with the bagpiping dossier distributor was merely preparation for more controversial selfies to come. After the events of the last few days it may only be a matter of time before Ms Sturgeon is hoisting her iPhone in the air as she and Boris Johnson, or Jacob Rees-Mogg, or Iain Duncan Smith, grin like the cats who got the cream factory in the divorce settlement. If any individuals are deserving of the FM’s thanks it is surely the hard Brexiters who have gone above and beyond in making the case for Scotland to get out of the UK as soon as it can. Does Scotland have an equivalent of the Legion d’Honneur? Cast those medals now.

There have been many photographs attempting to sum up the hot steaming mess that Brexit has become, many of them variations on an exhausted Theresa May, glimpsed sitting in the back seat as she returns home to Downing Street after another supposedly fatal setback. But some of the most telling and illuminating Kodak moments, or Instagram incidents, took place on Sunday as various Brexiters made their way to Chequers. It was a case of by their cars shall ye know them as Duncan Smith tootled up in his open top classic sports car, baseball cap on, looking like Toad of Toad Hall a long way into his third midlife crisis. Wonder if he drove that particular jalopy when he visited Easterhouse? Suspect not. But here he was, sweeping up to the policeman at the gates, his face immediately recognised (no Jack Straw sloppiness here) and waved through. It was a perfect picture of entitlement.

Macwhirter: Stop May's dash to the cliff edge

The story of this week, far more than Parliament supposedly taking control of the Brexit process, has been the Tory Party once again attempting to ride to the rescue of the Tory Party. Even by the grisly standards of the past, recent shenanigans will take some beating. By now, and particularly since the defenestration of Mrs Thatcher, the Conservatives are world beaters in ousting leaders they no longer deem suitable. If one Googles “how to get rid of a party leader” the number for Conservative Central Office ought to come first in the results.

Chequers was the softening up. Then came the capitulation of Rees-Mogg, which started, of course, with an awfully British apology. The MP for North East Somerset, the Lord Charles of British politics (choose your own Ray Alan) took to the Daily Mail to say that an “awkward reality” had to be faced, to wit, Mrs May’s deal was a bad one, but it was better than any of the alternatives. Providing the DUP felt the same way, of course. Also singing from the same hymn sheet was Boris Johnson, who said the choice was between Mrs May’s “appalling deal” which would deliver a pseudo Brexit, or “further delay, confusion and parliamentary jiggery pokery”.

Both appeared to be coming round to what might be termed the Davies Doctrine after the Welsh politician who described devolution as a process, not an event. To Johnson, Rees-Mogg and their ilk, Brexit could be the same. In ousting May they hope to have one of their own in charge of stage two of the negotiations. It’s all about taking back control, remember, though in this case the takers are the Brexiters and the people being taken for mugs are the rest of us.

At a meeting between Mrs May and her backbenchers last night she duly presented what one might call Chequers II: she offered to stand down before the next stage of negotiations if they passed her deal. Come the summer, assuming the blackmail works, and after a Tory leadership contest, she would be gone and a replacement in post. Jonathan Coe’s title for his blistering dissection of the Thatcher years, What a Carve Up!, has never been so fitting. If her deal is not passed, she will not budge. Rocks and hard places come to mind.

Holyrood votes to cancel Brexit

As the UK inches painfully towards a resolution of this crisis, wiser heads appreciate that whatever happens next there are no immediate or obvious winners here. The body politic stands bruised and uncertain of itself. In Scotland, we know that feeling, having been through the wringer before during the independence referendum of 2014. Disappointment, or temporary elation followed by a nagging feeling it would not be long before a repeat: Scots are familiar with the states of post-electoral grief. If anything, the schisms in England are worse than in Scotland and will take longer to heal.

That is not to underestimate, however, the difficulties facing Scotland should Brexit go ahead with Mrs May half way out the door.

The 8 Brexit amendments

In the aftermath of the current turmoil, there will be those who see before them the perfect conditions for a new independence referendum. Should Westminster at some point agree, the strategy for any new No campaign is obvious: point to the chaos attending Brexit and ask Scots if they really want more of the same. Even staunch Yes voters, when presented with such a scenario, might be tempted to play things safe, even if they know staying in the Union has its dangers too. Scots could be left with the worst of both worlds: trapped in an unhappy relationship but feeling unable or unwilling to leave. Hardly a positive foundation for the future.

But what does the Conservative Party care for any of this beside the possibility it could lose power? Nothing. Given a choice of party over country, it is party every time. Shameful.