Very early in the pandemic, somebody in my office said, “Have you seen these voiceover videos of your Covid briefings that Janey Godley is doing? They’re really, really funny.’” So I watched a couple of them and they really, really were.
Obviously, Covid was such a hard and dark time for everybody, and for me as first minister, it was stressful, but after finding out about Janey’s voiceovers, I remember quite quickly getting into this kind of pattern: after I did the briefing every day, half an hour later I’d go to see if Janey had posted anything – she used to post her videos quickly – just to lift my spirits and cheer me up. They always made me laugh.
Janey took the – excuse my language – piss out of me on many occasions, yes, but that’s par for the course. Any politician who gets po-faced about stuff like that – well, there’s something a bit wrong with them.
In the darkest of times, Janey made people laugh, but she also got public health messages across to those who would never have watched me give a very sombre government briefing. And I’m aware this may sound like hyperbole, but by making funny and accessible videos that people wanted to watch, there’s no doubt in my mind that Janey will have helped save lives back then.
Take how she described the 2-metre rule in one of her voiceovers as two alsatians – suddenly people knew what was meant! I think she probably humanised me as well, which made my job just that wee bit easier, for which I’m grateful.
At the time, we started chatting away online, and then I saw Janey at events after Covid had passed. I also interviewed her at the 2023 Aye Write festival in Glasgow, which was a lovely event, and the love in the room for her was absolutely palpable. As we walked on to the stage, there was this massive standing ovation, people cheering, and I could feel her next to me, getting a bit emotional about it. The thing is, Janey could be really gallus – that’s a Glasgow word, meaning brash and in your face – but she was also a gentle human being. She knew she had a big, loyal following, but I got the sense that night, for the first time, she realised, wow, these people feel something for me.
I went to visit her in the hospice a couple of weeks before she passed when she was very philosophical about being at the very end of her life. Even in those circumstances, she was hysterically funny. She had me in stitches from the minute I walked into the room to the minute I left. The courage with which she faced her cancer diagnosis and particularly the final stages of her life was incredible too. I’ve spoken to many people who took strength from how open she was online, and how much she shared. It’s not for everybody and many people understandably wouldn’t want to do that, but that’s how she coped, and in doing that, I think she helped a lot of other people cope with similar situations.
She got a huge amount of abuse online too, a lot of which was horrible, horrific – but she was determined not to let that drive her away from the public sphere or stop her from doing the things she loved. That was also so empowering.
The day before her funeral, there was an event in Edinburgh to celebrate her life, with her coffin coming down the Royal Mile. Lots of people came out to applaud her, but I had something else in Edinburgh that afternoon, so couldn’t go. But as I was driving back to Glasgow that Friday, I pulled up at some traffic lights, and there was a hearse in front of me. I thought, surely it can be. And it was – it was Janey.
I stayed behind her hearse all the way back to Glasgow, having this hilarious conversation with her in my head – I could just hear her saying, you better not be running your car into the back of me! It was just happenstance, but for that to have happened felt so special. And the funeral service the next day was lovely, lots of laughter and tears, but more laughter than tears. Just as she’d have wanted.
