From 30 years’ distance, I recall spending quite a bit of time at university riding around on Russell Findlay’s back. It only seemed fair – he was much taller than me, and had long legs that would take us from lecture to lecture faster than I could otherwise manage. Drink, on occasion, may have been taken.
We were both studying journalism. The besuited, short-back-and-sides, sombre Findlay who is today standing for the leadership of the Scottish Conservatives cut quite a different figure then. He arrived at campus on a motorbike, had hair down to his shoulders and wore a battered old leather jacket. He was handsome, cool and charismatic, and always had great-looking girlfriends: a leader of the pack.
Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month
Content from our partners
