Come on. Surely you can see it too? Hasn’t the release of Nicola Sturgeon’s memoir and the arrival of the new Bay City Rollers musical, set to open in Glasgow, thrown up the real, undeniable parallels between the lives of the former First Minister and the Rollers' front man Les McKeown?
What? You can’t recognise the clear connection with two young people who claimed to be shy and lacking a real sense of identity – yet given the chance to appear in the spotlight, chased fame and attention as fast as you could say shang-a-lang? And didn’t they both sell tartan to the world – and go on to become heritage acts?
Let’s rewind, shall we? Nicola was a bright young woman but hardly a stand-out in the personality stakes. Naturally shy, she was destined for the life of ordinariness as a family law solicitor. But when politics beckoned, the young woman from Dreghorn seized the chance to change the world and slip into skyscraper-sized heels. Les, meanwhile, was an entirely average paper mill worker who appeared in a covers band, but once he realised the power of rock ’n’ roll, pursued it with all his might.
Each however would reveal a single-mindedness that knew little bounds. As success grew, Nicola became a divisive figure in her party. Fellow MSPs such as Dorothy Grace Elder and Michelle Thomson described how they were ignored by the woman with little time for those deemed less important. Les, of course, had a fractious relationship with members of the Rollers, in particular Eric Faulkner; neither Nicola nor Les will be remembered for adopting a give a little love, take a little love, approach to life.
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Both most certainly owed their careers to controlling, megalomaniacal yet once supportive figures whose dark shadows loomed over them for years, both eventually turning against these men in the ugliest of ways. Yet, both Nicola and Les won out. They became idols (to some). They filled stadiums, they became feted, styled, redesigned and refocused, and eventually came to reveal more of the personality that had been so hidden back in Ayrshire and Edinburgh.
However, in their journey, it seems the pair often suffered from memory loss. Nicola, try as she might, couldn’t seem to recall details of a key Alex Salmond meeting when it came to sexual assault claims. Les struggled to recall the details of the car accident in which an elderly woman was killed. And both knew what it was like to arrested. They learned the meaning of ignominy. For Nicola it came about in the form of Operation Branchform, (which resulted in no charges being made). And while Les didn’t have a CSI tent outside his house, a camper van impounded or his back garden looking like it had suffered a giant mole attack, he was jailed after he once leapt into an orchestra pit and battered a photographer.
Nicola and Les have certainly revealed a capacity to change their minds with such ferocity it’s, well, mind-blowing. In 2016, she was still telling Holyrood that North Sea oil was the platform on which independence could be sold. Ten years later at Cop26, the FM was squeezing herself into a photo-op with Greta. Just as Les was once a die-hard Zeppelin rock fan who turned into a bubble gummer, Nicola too was able to cast aside her oil-based independence beliefs to sign up as a Thunbergian Earth saver.
What the pair have also had to endure is questioning about their sexuality. Nicola’s autobiography has gone a long way to finally quell rumours by declaring herself to be non-binary. That was very much the case with Les, who revealed as such, when asked by a journalist if he had had sexual relations with both women and men. (Interestingly, no one in the media has been upfront enough to ask the politician the straightforward question; ‘Have you had a relationship with a woman?’)
Nicola Sturgeon's Frankly is out now, if you fancy that (Image: free)
Now, one’s sexuality is a private affair. But both Nicola and Les set the agenda for discussion in their memoirs, no doubt fully aware of how many additional copies can be sold when the subject of preference is at least hinted at.
There is little doubt then that the stories of Nic and Les are tales of reinvention, rebranding themselves as media darlings. For Nicola, it’s about being called to the high table of talking heads that is Newsnight, or the mid-height table that is Loose Women, or the almost legless table of Channel 5 shows which require celebs to talk about the funny mistakes. For Les, it was about selling himself as a rock ’n’ roll frontman, and yet also a family man, content with life in east London. Which brings us to Nicola and her bye by baby approach to Scotland and the likes of Joanna Cherry. (Can’t we see her in the more affluent, yet arty world around Highgate or Notting Hill?)
What is undoubtable is that both Scottish icons represented complexity. Both suggested a colossal egomania, yet also a vulnerability, the combination of which resulted in trying too hard to be top banana. And both became divisive, difficult, with neither given to natural warmth and sincerity - unless the occasion demanded it.
It’s probably fair to say however that if we’re making comparisons with the two, Les was probably the better singer.
Rollers Forever is at The Pavilion Theatre, Glasgow, August 19-30. Nicola Sturgeon’s Frankly is everywhere
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