HUSTINGS: a form of political torture which is the (relatively) bloodless equivalent of throwing Christians, Muslims, and neither of the above to the lions.

I’ve chaired a few in my time, and you can spot the naked panic in the candidates’ eyes as they scan the audience for a friendly face – and maybe a planted question.

And then get skewered anyway by some nerdy type wanting to know how many warheads are carried on various classes of submarines.

The current merry-go-round for the SNP leadership has three folk hurling up and down and across Scotland to complete a marathon of members’ meetings, televised debates and a grilling from the STUC’s indy-minded camp. All in a couple of weeks or so with just seven days’ notice.

One of the three has only recently had any real name recognition thanks to her resigning over a policy issue with which she disagreed. Another had to scurry back early from maternity leave when her most urgent decision hitherto had probably been bottle or breast. The third, still operating as health secretary, at least had time to pop out and purchase a job lot of tartan ties.

I can see the need to get things done and dusted without indulging in the summer long nonsense which gave us all Trussonomics, but there’s surely a happy medium between the Sunak/Truss roadshows and the hurly-burly of the SNP’s casting couches.

Surely a way of picking not just a party leader, but someone who will doubtless wind up our First Minister, without expecting them to construct an all-singing all-dancing campaign in a week, before throwing themselves to the mercy of the assembled mobs.

It’s rather like being asked to do your Advanced Higher maths after being sent a pocket calculator and the Ladybird book of arithmetic for slow learners.

Every day a fresh lot of party loyalists come out to pledge their devotion to just one of the three candidates. Some might suppose that’s because his glittering intellect can do no other than attract the widest possible admiration within his own party.

The more cynical mind might ponder whether or not there had been, if not formal orchestration, then a handy outbreak of groupthink.

Not being a party member – of any party – I have no skin in this game, and no vote. Yet, like most folk, I have a definite interest in who gets to mind our shop next. So I have given myself the thankless task of listening to all these hustings and all the available debates, the better to understand what this trio have to offer.

Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye! Only three more weeks to go.