Photo: Scottish government

HAVE you heard a good anecdote about our late Queen from anybody yet?

One of the fairly surprising threads of these past few days of national mourning is that there has been such a dearth of interesting recollections ­– this despite her being out on the job, somewhere, nearly every week.

Millions of people met her, and we are still waiting for someone to come forward with some illumination.

The round-the-clock TV coverage is, of course, impressive for its stamina, but over the weekend I heard one flagging broadcaster ask an expert of constitutional affairs whether Charles “would be hoping to live up to the memory of his mother?”

I think I could have answered that one from the couch without the need for a professor to come on, but perhaps there are several different answers to that question which Harrington hasn’t properly considered yet.

Despite tribute speeches in every town hall in the country, contributions on every television and radio station, and special newspaper editions so long that nobody could possibly read all of the wavy words unless they accidentally gulped 30 cans of Monster, there has only been one anecdote of any note. One.

And as there is only one it has been shared and repeated ad nauseam.

You’ll know it comes from a royal protection officer and involves the Queen picking up some Americans on a walking holiday in Scotland in her jeep – and then coming up with the perfect wisecrack when they failed to recognise who she was.

Other than that, the anecdote cupboard has been bare, even though every parish councillor who had a half second introduction during a tour of a hospital or the opening of a new sports field has been more than happy to pump anyone who will listen with all the minute, uninteresting details of these memorable meetings.

She was ‘really nice’, you say? Tell it to me again.

We hear that the Queen lit up the room and no doubt she did, that she was warm and reassuring to those who felt nervous in her presence, and she was always interested in whatever the person giving the speech of the day was telling her about.

Perhaps she really was fascinated in how a replica of the British Telecom tower was made out of matchsticks, or whatever people did to try and impress her.

I wouldn’t want to ruin any illusions.

The reason so many of the tribute speeches, contributions and anecdotes are actually more about the person giving the speech – NB: she was a constant in MY life – is partly because most of us tackle our inferiority fears by clinging on to any crumbs that do fall our way.

Plus, so many humans feel they have to say something at moments like this.

But, more importantly, it’s stunningly clear now that the Queen and her aides were masters of the public relations game: Get in, get out, leave them wanting more and somehow feeling like they knew the Queen in a 10-second exchange that can be recited for the rest of their lives.

She said she liked my hat and we both laughed.

The Queen, we might believe, chuckled at every joke she was ever told. To keep that up for 70 years is one of the understated achievements of her reign, to make all feel they were special while leaving so few… colourful anecdotes… behind is a rare skill.

You may be screaming that the fact that nobody has anything interesting to say about meeting the Queen can be blamed on the sealed code that you can be sent to the Tower if you disclose any private conversations.

But let’s not be too fooled that she dropped a nugget about which member of The Beatles she liked most while meeting the Brownies in the community hall up the road – and it’s just that Tawny Owl has to now keep the secret forever more that it was Ringo. She told Tawny Owl she liked the girls’ crafts.

Nobody left a meeting with the Queen unhappy though, and nobody stole a secret for social media.

A PR and operational masterclass that the new king – not always a man who oozes easy warmth and comforting smiles – may want to learn quickly.