I EXPECT many decent ratepayers and other upright citizens feel apathy or even ambivalence when it comes to patron saints. It’s not a concept – a special guardian or advocate for a country, trade or ailment – that anyone takes too seriously any more. But, in countries in particular, we will have “our saint”, just like we have “our flag”, “our national drink”, and so on.

Of course, in Scotia Minor, just as we’re regularly hectored that neither haggis nor bagpipes nor tartan are really ours, the usual suspects will be writhing aboot in their straitjackets and shouting that St Andrew wasn’t Scottish.

Oh Lordy, can there be a Scot alive who doesn’t know that? Andrew was born or grew up in Galileeshire in yonder Middle East. Saints don’t have to be from the locale where they are venerated. It’s often the case that they become patron saints of a joint because bits of their bones ended up there.

Thus, in Scotland, we have St Andrew’s kneecap and a shoulder blade, among other bits and bobs. St Andrew was crucified on an X-shaped cross, and such a shape appeared before the Battle of Athelstaneford in the 9th century, which was taken as an omen of the Picts’ subsequent victory over the Saxons.

If you have another leg about your person, you might wish to pull it to check if it has bells on.

Saints have a holy dimension to them, of course, which means anything is possible or can be believed and, in the past at least, it was thought that saints could intervene to the benefit of their stakeholders or clients, so to say.

Thus, a chap might wish to invoke St Augustine of Hippo if he is brewing beer or has sore eyes. St Agricola of Avignon is your man if you feel the bubonic plague coming on. His emblem is the stork as he prevented them invading the city one time. Yes, it’s annoying when storks do that.

St Fiacre of Breuil is the patron saint of venereal disease sufferers – thanks, it’s said, to his reputed aversion to women. He’s also the go-to saint for those who are martyrs to haemorrhoids, which he had a reputation for curing. Indeed, they used to be known as “St Fiacre’s figs”, whereas now they tend to be known as Nobbies (after footballer Nobby Stiles) or Chalfonts (as in St Giles).

Buttocks bring us back to Scotland, where our Andy has his big day on Thursday. It’s celebrated at many events up and also doon the land, not least in the west end of Glasgow, where a community torchlight parade, accompanied by pipe bands, other musicians and fire dancers will take place on Thursday night (kick-off 6:30pm at the football pitches at the top of Queen Margaret Drive).

For many folk, it’ll be just another day, which all days are when you think about it. But, if you’ve got a patron saint, you might as well respect him, out of tradition if not rationality.

So, let’s make no more bones about the fact that St Andrew is the bee’s kneecaps – and shoulder blade – as far as Scotland is concerned,

St Andrew’s Day is on Thursday, and the website westendfestival.co.uk has more details about the torchlight parade in Glasgow’s west end.