In normal times, the silly season arrives deep into the summer, when our lieges up sticks and abandon the asphalt jungle to sojourn in Tuscany or Tobermory. With nothing much happening, the media turns to trivia and fantasy to keep people hooked. As far back as the 1860s, commentators raged against the sudden dearth of seriousness. In particular, ire was directed at The Times newspaper, the Establishment’s Bible, which was accused of sinking “from nonsense written with a purpose to nonsense written because the writer must write either nonsense or nothing.”

I thought of this last weekend when I opened The Times’s sister paper, The Sunday Times, whose triple-bylined front-page splash was headlined ‘Palace sends for William to rescue Union’. My first irreverent reaction was to replace “Union” with “One of His Grandma’s Corgis”. The gist of the story was that support for Scottish independence is growing alarmingly and that something needs to be done to halt it before it’s too late. “Courtiers,” declared the ST’s finest, “are drawing up plans for the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge to spend more time in Scotland...amid fears in the royal household that politicians are ‘losing Scotland’.” D-Day, it appeared, has arrived.

History tells us that such fears are not unusual. Down the ages, English monarchs have viewed Scotland with exasperation, more of a persistent nuisance than a good neighbour. When things turned nasty, which they often did, emissaries were despatched north to sort out the unruly natives. Often this involved sticks rather than carrots. Diplomacy was conspicuous by its absence. Much more common was brutal repression and destruction of habitation. Thus battered, the Scots retired to their smoke-filled bothies to lick their wounds while the English hastily returned to civilisation and a hot bath.

The latest crisis has arisen because of the unfortunate habit the Scottish National Party has of winning elections. Most recently, it regained power in the devolved parliament at Holyrood in Edinburgh. Unsurprisingly, its leader, Nicola Sturgeon, has taken this as a mandate to press for another referendum on independence. With none of her nearest opponents making much of a dent in her armour-plated suit, panic appears to have ensued at Westminster. Who, one imagines those in government saying to the anonymous courtiers, can we enlist to deal with Glasgow’s Boudica?

The shortlist was painfully short. For obvious reasons, the Queen immediately ruled herself out; she knows it is not part of her job description to wade into political quagmires. Her would-be successor, Prince Charles, was deemed not popular enough other than among the hunting, shooting, fishing fraternity. So the baton passed to Will and Kate who, where the heather blooms, are known as the Earl and Countess of Strathearn. According to the ST, they will spend “far more time at Balmoral, the Queen’s Scotland estate, treating it as a regular home rather than a place for brief holidays. They would also strengthen their ties with St Andrews, the town where they met and fell in love as university students.”

This says a lot about how those in London charged with running the rest of this disunited kingdom think of Scotland. One can almost smell the desperation that is engulfing them. They know that sooner or later a referendum is coming and that they must make a case for the Union. But who can legitimately, persuasively, passionately, eloquently make it? And in whom, most importantly, will wavering Scots put their trust?

Given the restrictions placed on what members of the royal family can say, the idea that Prince William can be an advocate for the status quo does not bear scrutiny. He cannot take part in debates or make speeches telling Scots what to do. All he can do is smile sweetly, wax nostalgic and talk about football, on which subject he is a real authority.

Which brings us to who could be a credible leader for what used to be called the Better Together campaign. In an ideal world, the obvious candidate would be Boris Johnson but he is about as welcome in Scotland as the annual influx of midges. As the prime minister surveys his Cabinet, his eye surely alights on his semi-trusted lieutenant Michael Gove who at least was born and bred hereabouts. Gove is smart, articulate, and slippery. The problem is that, Tory voters notwithstanding, he remains an enigma. So adept is he at deflecting awkward questions and offering weaselly soundbites, he is no more trustworthy than Macbeth. Nor do other prominent Tories inspire. Ruth Davidson, who blossomed for a season, is interred in the House of Lords. Alister Jack, Secretary of State for Scotland, is recognisable only to his immediate family, while Douglas Ross, the leader of the Scottish Conservatives at Holyrood, is best known as a football linesman.

Seven years ago, the Better Together campaign was led by Alastair Darling, the former Chancellor of the Exchequer. He made a worthy opponent for Alex Salmond, especially when debating the economy. But that was then. Today, he is invisible. Darling’s old boss, Gordon Brown, is still very much in evidence, popping up from time to time like a hellfire and damnation preacher, detailing how things are going to pot and what his latest plan is to fix them. Listening to him, one longs for what might have been. Instead, there is the memory of a Labour government intent on its own destruction. When Brown had the chance to lead he blew it. All he has to offer by way of an alternative to independence are further concessions from Westminster designed to halt the nationalists in their tracks. There is no indication that this will suffice.

Meanwhile, the search for the Union’s champion must go on. They seek him here, they seek her there, they seek whoever he or she may be everywhere.

(Alan Taylor was deputy editor and managing editor of the Scotsman newspaper. He was a Booker Prize judge in 1994. His latest book is Appointment in Arezzo, an account of his friendship with the novelist Muriel Spark.)

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