Susan Morrison: Come and listen to FM John Swinney – it’s going to be a riot

So far, I’ve been having a rather splendid time of it, even when in the middle of a ‘riotette’.

First Minister John Swinney appearing with comedian Susan Morrison at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe

It wasn’t supposed to be a riot. I was just supposed to be having a bit of a chat with the First Minister, John Swinney, at The Stand. I quite like doing these things. I like snooping behind these political talking heads.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a good Paxman cross-examination as much as the next voter, but we rarely discover much about the person skillfully evading answering the questions about the economy, the NHS and the ferries.

It’s good to find the human behind the job, I always think, especially today when we’ve got such a jaundiced view of politicians. We suspect they're ‘at it’ somehow, riding the expenses-fuelled gravy express to a cushy life of money, title and privilege.

Some do play fast and loose with the rules. Running up ten grand in mobile charges on a government-issue iPad while on a Moroccan holiday isn’t the sort of thing expenses are meant to cover.

Yes, some are snout-deep in the money trough, but I’ve met a fair few politicians and they work hard for their constituents, even the ones who didn’t vote for them.

Virtually every one of these elected representatives had started as a youthful impassioned activist, desperate to change something for the better. Oh, they could have taken the headline grabbing route of slow walking on a motorway, throwing soup over a Van Gogh or pouring out milk in Waitrose, but they chose the long slog of elections, back-benches and draughty constituency surgeries.

So, I was quite looking forward to finding what made Mr Swinney tick. He’s always struck me as a careful character. You never know, we might have discovered a secret past as a Chippendale dancer or a wild moment as a Las Vegas card sharp. Also, perhaps a bit of spicy gossip from the day he met Trump.

Sadly we didn’t find out much. Protesters, you see. It all kicked off not long after we started. They were shouty and disruptive. Weirdly it was for a good cause which virtually everyone in that room agreed with, including the staff.

There wasn’t much we could do, Mr Swinney and I, but sit and wait until the last of them had been removed. It was sound and fury, but didn't achieve very much.

Throughout it all, Mr Swinney sat calmly as people literally bellowed abuse at him and at those staff, so supportive of their cause, who had to ask them to leave.

The First Minister went up in my estimation. The world is a wild and terrifying place and we’ve got enough screaming banshees in politics today, we need more grown-ups in the room.

After it all, we did manage to get the lowdown on the First Minister's past as a fan of The Clash, The Jam and his youthful love of Sta-Press trousers.

Made it on to the telly, apparently. My mum saw me and immediately jammed my phone with calls to make sure I hadn’t sworn before the First Minister. Of course not, I said. I waited till it was his turn. He didn’t, but I did. A lot.