Nicola Sturgeon

It’s said that before a tsunami strikes there are major warning signs to look out for that should alert the public to the forthcoming catastrophe. Warning signs such as an earthquake at sea, or the tide suddenly going out, are usually enough to galvanise the inhabitants of neighbouring coastal towns to immediately head for the high ground.

Political tsunamis have striking similarities to the real thing. For example, there were many early warning signs before the 2015 General Election that alerted all pro-UK parties in Scotland to the very real possibility that they were going to be swept away by a gigantic nationalist tidal wave.

Like many of us who now find ourselves locked inside for most of the day, I have been watching more movies than usual. A few nights ago, one struck me with its resonance to current Scottish politics. It was about an aircraft that, mid-flight, suffered a catastrophic malfunction to its tail assembly, causing it to roll over and enter a steep dive that inverted all of its controls; actions that would have previously lifted the nose of the aircraft would only push it down further. As the pilots fought the controls, a clear but plaintive mechanical voice repeats, "Pull up. Pull up," as the plane hurtles to the ground, as if the pilots hadn't already realised the situation which they were now powerless to stop.