ONLY Alex Salmond would be audacious enough to hint that perhaps the Obama team pinched his slogan.
For the last couple of days, the SNP has been trotting out the "Yes We Can" phrase.
The First Minister insists that the party used it in 1997. "We should have patented it."
Meanwhile, the Tories seem to have stolen the SNP's Time for Change slo
gan. Maurice Golden (Boy) is a fresh faced candidate who is endearingly trying to pitch the Tories as the mavericks, unsullied by power in either Westminster or Holyrood.
He can be compared to the kind of X Factor contestant who doesn't necessarily have the most talent, but who is kept in week after week by the "mum" votes because of his smile.
An SNP activist admits that he had the best one liner of any candidate at a hustings. When he was asked what he would nationalise, he said: "Lindsay Roy's diary".
DELIGHTFUL as Fife is, anyone camped here for the by election knows that this is not the top contest to be covering this week.
But somehow, the cocky SNP has tried to draw far-fetched parallels with Barack Obama's triumph of hope over fear to its party's likely victory over Labour.
This afternoon, the party created traffic chaos with a photo call in the centre of a roundabout.
A giant saltire was held up by activists, as Peter Grant and the FM posed in front of it.
It would have been more dramatic if Mr Salmond had come over the top of the hill, and landed a giant belly flop in the centre, but alas he was not game for that.
Instead, I ask him whether he has put his money where his mouth is. He tells me he has had a flutter on the by election – and put money on the SNP to win. He does not tell me how much. Wonder if it is a spread bet?
One activist tells me they put a £250 bet on in the last 48 hours.
THERE was almost a "Sharon Storer" moment (not Sharon Stone – no kilts here) when the photo call was ambushed by parents demonstrating against the closure of a school in Paisley.
OK it is not in Glenrothes but it was the SNP what dunnit, say the parents.
They demand a meeting with the First Minister. He eventually comes over, mindful of the fact the press are there and promises to listen to their concerns.
THE atmosphere in the Liberal Democrat camp this morning was surprisingly relaxed.
Candidate Harry Wills had time to linger over a cup of coffee with The Scotsman, along with Willie by election supremo Rennie and Tavish Scott.
Mr Wills is wonderfully un-PC for a Lib Dem. The Lib Dems slogan is "Harry Wills, Fighting for Fife" but every time a press release pops up on my email, I become alarmed, thinking it reads "Harry Wills Fighting for Life".
But despite reports that the Lib Dems could lose their deposit, Harry is in good spirits. What makes him better than his rivals. "Oh that's not for me to say," he says blushing. But then he adds that he has had years of experience in business in the area.
A "mature" woman sits down beside us to ask him whether he can get the recycling bins near her home emptied (it has not been cleared since it was installed there). He promises to get on the case. She also asks for him to ensure that the vast Kingdom Shopping Centre gets all its empty shops filled. He is too smart to promise that he can fix the decline in retail to sort this one out...
She is later spotted shaking hands with John Prescott.
One Lib Dem activist insists that voters are telling the SNP they are voting for Peter Grant because "they will say anything to get them off their doorstep quickly. They are so pushy." So while America feared the Bradley effect, Glenrothes could have the Jehovah Witness factor.
LABOUR have just been on the phone. Things are very positive, they report. If that is the case, Lindsay Roy has an impeccable poker face. It is difficult to tell when the 59 year old is happy/sad/angry. He seemed to get a bit agitated last night at the hustings, which seemed suspiciously packed with SNP activists.
A week ago, one senior Labour MP told me that Lindsay's advantage was that he was not a politician, he did acquiesce to spin doctor's instructions. At times, he seems to have been defiantly unbriefed though. He seems to detest the streetfight so much that he doesn't engage with it. One wonders why he would give up being headmaster, running the show, for an uncertain life as a backbencher. Is he too decent to be a politician?
The full article contains 812 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
