Declaration of Arbroath. Scottish icons by Rab McNeil

Let us look, then, at what it said, bearing in mind that, aside from the most famous lines, there’s a fair amount of bilge. We should remind ourselves, too, that it was a letter to the Pope, and so it starts with, “devoted kisses of your blessed feet”. Whatever turns you on, I suppose. Blessed be the feet. It’s just a blessing that Orangemen and their own never-quoted declaration – The Treaty of Union – hadn’t been invented yet.

Following the feet there’s some right dodgy history about the Scots originating in Greater Scythia, a sort of Greater Strathclyde without the buses. It was in modern Ukraine, so how they ended up here is a mystery. Maybe they had a Young Persons Chariotcard.

Allegedly, these fine folk blootered the Britons and the Picts then, later, “the Norse, the Danes and the English”. They were among the first Christians – gullible – and lived “free and untroubled”, skipping daily through daisy meadows, until that King Edward of England turned up murdering folk, burning monasteries and generally arson aboot.

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Luckily, “Lord Robert, like another Maccabaeus or Joshua” (righty-oh) fought back to ensure Scotia’s freedom. Now comes the famous bit (improvised by me from various translations – see important point below): “Listen up: As long as but a hundred of us remain alive, we will never submit to English rule. No way. It is not for honour nor riches nor glory that we fight, but for freedom alone, which no true man gives up except with his life, ken?”

These are amazingly stirring words from a period when we assumed everybody was dense. Admired throughout the world, they’re said to have inspired the American Declaration of Independence, though that is disputed yada-yada.

The document was signed on 6 April, 1320, at the monastery of Arbroath and sent forth, luckily not via Hermes or the Pope would still be waiting for it or have received a note saying “left in laundry pail” whence it was destroyed after soapy medieval immersion in Fairy Non-Bio Mucus Powder.

The document was signed by some right toffs on behalf also of the “other Barons, Freeloaders and all the common people of the kingdom of Scotland”. Not “Freeloaders”, sorry, “Freeholders”. Of course, the common people didn’t have a scoobie about any of this, but just sat aboot on tree stumps chewing grass and periodically saying “Aye” in a resigned voice.

Oddly, you’d think, there appears to be no Macs among the signatories, though there is a Donald Campbell, who was also known as Domnhall mac Cailein (mac Cailein being a name Campbells often took; it means “son of Colin”; ruddy confusing). I might have missed others, as some are just listed in translations by first name (Rab, Tam, Shuggie) and place.

Fergus Ardrossan sounds like a made-up character from Chewin’ the Fat. Someone with a row of pens in his cloak’s top pocket. Other great Scots-sounding names include Roger de Mowbray, William de Monte Alto, and even Magnus Jonsson, Earl of Orkney, who presumably didn’t read it properly or skipped over the bit about the dastardly Norse. Before this gives unionists the chance to rejoice – “See, they weren’t even really Scottish” – a few signatories changed sides later, which proves they were Scottish.

Bear in mind the Deccie was written in Latin, a language you can translate any way you like. Put two Latin translations next to each other and you’ll find no two words the same. There’s a fair chance the famous document actually says: “We, the undesigned, demand better public lavatory facilities for all in Arbroath.”

Alba party leader Alex Salmond appears to have “kingdom” translated as “realm” in his pocket edition. Earlier this week, on the Deccie’s 701st anniversary, announcing his plans to take over the nation, he kept referring to “the realm of Scotland”.

It sounded curiously antiquated. Today, “realm” is usually associated with fairies. Difficult to see Eck in a wee frock, waving a wand as he blunders through the air on a joist before alighting on a dandelion and crushing it flat under his great weight.

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The modern SNP under Nicola Sturgeon, meanwhile, could have issued their own new declaration like Eck: “Let us be clear: For as long as there a hundred genders of us, we will never submit to Salmond nor tolerate hate havers at ye banqueting table. It is not for baby boxes that we fight, but for our salaries and pension rights alone, which no woke politician gives up without a tweet.”

I should have explained that the purpose of the letter – written by Bernie of Kilwinning – was not just to get Scotland’s nationhood recognised but to have the Pope’s excommunication of Robert I rescinded. Boabie (the Bruce) had earlier told the Pope where he could shove his desired truce during the First War of Scottish Independence.

How was the document received? Evidence indicates that Pope John 22 just put it on a pile with his leccy bill and bank statements, to be looked at later. They should have sent it to him again in red ink and headed it “Final Notice”.

At any rate, four months later, the Pope finally got round to writing back, saying he yearned for “pacification” beween Scotland and the baddies, and urging everyone to render service unto their maker, Jehovah the Merciless.

Today, Scots are once more trying to have their independence recognised, not by the Pope but by Boris Johnson. However, having so far proven unwilling to plant devoted kisses on the PM’s ankle socks, the constitutional impasse continues at the time of going to press.

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