Shadow over the sun as Sheridan stokes the flames of protest

IT SEEMED too sunny for war. But where there is sun there is also shadow, and the forces of darkness rarely take time off to bask in the springtime warmth.

So, first thing in Parliament yesterday, we had the Rev William McFadden reminding everyone during Time for Repentance: "Blessed are the peacemakers. For they shall be called children of God." Except in America, where they shall be called other names.

John Swinney, the SNP leader and coot-bald child of God, rose to demand another debate on Iraq, giving more conscience-stricken Labourites the chance to redeem themselves. No joy. Patricia Ferguson, the minister for suppressing debates, said the House of Commons had just discussed the matter, and the Scots had already been allowed to speak there.

Thus thwarted, we wandered into the leafy glades of Princes Street Gardens where, to cite the poet Wordsworth, little birds were piping yet among the bushes.

A gang of godless children soon put a stop to that, hollering and running amok, in protest at the war. On the street itself, beneath the steep crags of the Castle, thousands gathered to die symbolically as the one o’clock gun fired an invisible shell.

The gruff ack-ack that followed signalled another oratorical attack from Tommy Sheridan, the Scottish Socialists’ big gun. "I hope your mothers and fathers are proud of you," he told his adoring audience.

The children chanted his name and, thus egged on, he declared that other politicians were "out of touch with young people", before stopping in the midst of his peroration to announce dramatically: "I’m getting a message now to say the war has officially started." This turned out, like his audience, to be premature. Colin Fox, also of the SSP, asked: "Hands up here who’s going to remember what they were doing when the war started?"

The fact that, strictly speaking, it hadn’t started seemed a pity, but it looked like getting under way by last night, which encouraged one performer to cancel his evening performance. Mark Thomas, the admirable investigative comedian, asked the young Princes Street peaceniks for a minute’s silence, after which he declared: "We need to say one clear thing: the bombing starts, the country stops." This was duly taken up as the new chant, to the accompaniment of a beating drum.

Back on the Mound, the hubbub died down as Jack McConnell, the First Minister, delivered a statement declaring: "The time for agonising is past." He warned us to be "alert and vigilant". These were "deeply worrying times", but there was no need to panic as Scotland was not under threat.

The police had set up a co-ordination centre which would monitor "community tension" and, in the meantime, we should hope and pray the war brings a better world.

Mr Swinney was suitably subdued, reminding everyone that nine-tenths of war’s victims were civilians. Mr McConnell praised Mr Swinney for being "responsible" with one of his questions, at least. David McLetchie, the Tory leader, thought this an opportune moment to ban strikes. Yes, after all, isn’t that what we’re fighting for?

It was mostly sedate stuff until Tommy, a one-man hubbub, suggested taking legal action against the UK Government for indulging in an illegal war.

Cheers erupted from the gallery, howls of outrage from the Labour benches. Tommy clattered on, and the chamber’s barometers rose relentlessly.

Sir David Steel, the presiding officer, told Mr Sheridan: "You have no right to go on like that. I think you should apologise." Gesturing to the Executive, Tommy retorted: "I will apologise when they apologise." Sir David indicated the left-wing firebrand could be booted out on his behind. Mr McConnell advised: "No, that’s what he wants."

He added: "Mr Sheridan has the freedom in this country to speak." Labour MSPs, who’d spent the previous few minutes trying to shut him up, cheered wildly.

Outside, in the sunshine, a banner proclaimed: "Democracy my arse." But, of course, there are two sides to that statement.