NOTHING says summer like a hi-viz jacket. Cast out of parliament, politicians instinctively gravitate toward building sites in search of photo opportunities.

They shake hands, they point at stuff, they get to wear hard hats. What’s not to love?

So on day two of his Scotland tour, Jeremy Corbyn duly pitched up in Glasgow’s East End to grab a jerkin and strike a pose with a power tool.

“Mr Corbyn will outline plans to build more housing,” said the Labour press notice.

Actually, the disused Parkhead school was being converted into offices for a housing association, but it was close enough for Jez the Builder.

After an hour loitering in a Portacabin with a huge plate of teacakes, the Labour leader finally clumped out in work boots accompanied by an entourage of believers.

“I think every politician in the Greater Glasgow area has turned up to this do,” gasped a party aide, reflecting on the pre-election days when Jez was a lonely punchline not a future PM.

Inside the gutted building, Mr Corbyn was shown a random piece of plasterboard and told to screw it. “Look at us!” shouted the photographers as he was handed a drill.

“How can you put a screw in when you’re looking away?” he sniffed. “We have to do it safely, you know.” The drill bucked, missing the target. “Oh, I hope you weren’t filming that.”

After another attempt, he made a beeline for the media outside.

At one point he seemed to drift off when asked what he’d remember most about Scotland.

“The beauty of Lewis and the standing stones,” he said, describing a trip to Callanish the previous evening. You imagine he'd make a good druid, leaping around with goatish abandon as the sun went down, a local Tory burning in a gender-blind wicker person.

“Eh, and the problems of inequality and social injustice,” he added seriously.

After that, it was back to the site office to eavesdrop on the great man’s small talk.

Former council leader Frank McAveety was having an argument with housing boss Jim Strang about whether it was bad luck to put work boots on the table.

“Lot of hogwash,” said Mr McAveety.

“Anything happens to this building, you’re responsible,” said Mr Strang.

Jez tried to defuse the tension by talking about drains, as you do.

“There’s a whole social history behind drain covers,” he informed the room.

A builder muttered Scotland was different. “We’ve stanks,” he said.

There’s small talk, and and there’s quantum-level small talk, but Mr Corbyn carried on.

“Did you pick up any internal drainage? Internal drainage stacks are a complete nightmare.”

Nightmares come in many forms. We made our excuses and left. Mr Corbyn is here till Sunday.