The hit musical Chicago has a character, Amos "Mr Cellophane" Hart, who sings: "You can look right through me, walk right by me and never know I'm there."
The Scottish National Party seems to have elected Mr Cellophane as its leader. They have chosen John Who? over Alex What's-his-name.
More than 80 per cent of Scottish voters, even those who supported the SNP, could not name either of the contenders for the leadership of the second force in Scottish politics. The opinion poll reflected the nation's lack of interest, as well as the failure of either man to make any personal impact, despite years at the heart of nationalist politics.
In the event, John Swinney won by a two to one majority over Alex Neil - 67 per cent of the votes to 32 per cent - and he is now leader of the opposition in the Scottish Parliament, with 35 MSPs.
Swinney, the MP and MSP for North Tayside, was Alex Salmond's deputy - but there was no dynastic sense of the crown prince succeeding. His confirmation at the Inverness conference was not so much a coronation as an identity crisis.
The phrase "charisma bypass" could have been coined for Swinney. But that very blandness could be his strongest asset, for he could lull Scotland into electing a nationalist government. The mild-mannered 36-year-old has John Smith-style, bank manager-like integrity. The contrast with Salmond, whose startling resignation after ten years triggered the change of leadership, is absolute. Even those who would not vote for the SNP knew the quick-witted and impudent "Smart Alex", and more than three-quarters said he had been a good leader.
Swinney, on the other hand, is buttoned-up and battened-down. Caricaturists and sketch-writers make the most of the wire-rimmed spectacles, the tight lips and the dome-shaped head, but are still searching for the character behind them.
The SNP has been Swinney's life since he joined at the age of 15, and there has been very little outside it. He was the party secretary while still studying politics at Edinburgh University and has never held a job outside the SNP. He paid the penalty when, combining Westminster with his duties as election strategist, his marriage broke down two years ago.
Those who give Swinney no more than a first glance write him off as suffering from the same problems as William Hague: they can no more visualise Swinney as first minister of Scotland, than they can see Hague as prime minister of Britain.
Apart from his personal image prob-lem, the latest ICM poll showed a slump in Scots' support for independence, with fewer than one in four opting for separation from the UK. Labour's Donald Dewar says Swinney has inherited a poisoned chalice: "He's taking over at a time when the Nationalists are going nowhere, with support for their main policy of separation at an all- time low."
That is to reckon without the inoffensive appeal of Swinney's brand of Nationalism Lite. His objective is to consolidate the Nats' position as the alternative to Labour. The polls show the SNP's growing attraction for protest voters - and, with the exam results fiasco, the spiralling cost of the new Holyrood parliament, pensions and the petrol crisis, Scots feel they have much to complain about.
Swinney admits: "If you were to [ask] a member of the public what the SNP stands for, I'm pretty sure they would say the party stands for independence, but I don't think they would be able to say much more than that."
He will build a body of policy on schools, hospitals, job creation, poverty, lower fuel prices and higher pensions. He refuses to commit himself on taxation, although he still insists the disastrous Scottish election "Penny for Scotland" gambit of refusing the Chancellor's tax cut was right.
The policy that marked him out from the "Big Bang" independence strategy of his rival is to use the Scottish Parliament as the launch-pad to separation. He says "independence cannot be won by stealth or sleight of hand", but he believes it can be won by a "softly, softly" strategy.
The ratchet effect could increase the status of the parliament. "If the UK was a success, we wouldn't need a Scottish Parliament," he says. "I want it to have real power to make a difference to the life of every Scot. That means giving it power to increase pensions, cut fuel tax, attack poverty, take economic decisions that are in Scotland's best interests and be represented at the top tables of Europe and the world."
The possible outcome might be for the Scots to opt for the halfway house that already exists in Catalonia and Quebec. They might give Labour a bloody nose by voting in an SNP minority government at Holyrood, but reject outright independence in the referendum that would follow. And they are more likely to do that with the nice, safe Swinney than with a blustering Braveheart.
Once, independence movements were parties of dreamers led by rabble-rousers with charisma. Now it seems the days of nationalist leaders who send out fiery crosses and set the heather on fire are long gone.
The last word of the dying William Wallace in the film Braveheart is: "Freedom!" It has been echoed many times by SNP orators, with risible references to "oppression" (in the 21st century!) by the UK government. Swinney tried it himself by urging his party: "Come with me. Let us win our nation's freedom!" He succeeded only in reminding us that Braveheart, William Wallace or (perhaps more to the point) Mel Gibson, he ain't. But it is that difference which could make him dangerous.
