OOOH, say it in the voice of a Hollywood trailer. The Stone … of Destiny! Da-dah!

What is it? Well, it’s a cold, grey block on which ancient Scottish kings sat to be crowned. It was said to groan when a true king of Scots sat on it, but that was probably just the fat ones. It’s sometimes known as the Stone of Scone, but never the Scone of Destiny – except in Terry Pratchett novels.

Famously, it was stolen by unionist hero Edward I, and retrieved by Glasgow Yoonie students in 1950, though some think English Eddie was palmed off with a fake. Doubts have been raised, less feasibly, about the one returned by the students being real, or at least the real fake.

The Stone’s very origin is the subject of theories, legends and tripe. One story says Fergus, first King of Scots, had it transported from Ireland. But that story was written 1,000 years later; bit late with the news back then.

Another credible legend says it was the stone used as a pillow by Jacob, in yon Bible, when he dreamed of a stairway to heaven after listening to Led Zeppelin. However, in 1998, British Geological Survey experts proved the Stone was made of “Old Red Sandstone”, quarried in the Scone area.

In ancient times, it was housed at Scone Abbey, near Perth. Measuring 26 in by 16.7 by 10.5, it weighs 24 stone. There’s a replica in Scone Palace grounds today.

One side features a roughly incised cross, and an iron ring at each end helps anyone wanting to carry it away, as Eddie 1’s minions did in 1296. But what did they take exactly?

Ed had long coveted the stone, so you can imagine that, on being presented with a flat, featureless slab, he must have thought the monks were extracting the urine. As historical fiction author Marie MacPherson has argued, apart from anything else, it looked like the cover of a cesspit or, at best, one of the abbey’s building blocks.

Wouldn’t it have been decorated with Celtic knotwork? Wouldn’t it have been hollowed out to give the shape of a seat, as described by Walter of Guisborough when he attended the coronation of John Balliol in 1292?

Some say monks hid the real stone in the River Tay or buried it on Dunsinane Hill. At any rate, allowing for the possibility that Longshanks left with something made by Shanks, the stone was ensconced at Westminster Abbey, where it was fitted into a wooden, high backed chair decorated with birds, foliage and animals. It’s not recorded if interior decor enthusiast Eddie had the arms draped in doilies.

It’s possible that he himself retained doubts about the Stone’s authenticity as, in 1298, he sent a raiding party back to search the abbey upside-down. They found nothing.

Fast-forward 30 years and, under the Treaty of Northampton, England agreed to return the Stone to Scotland, but rioting crowds prevented its removal from Westminster. Damned English nationalists.

Since that time, it’s been used at coronations to uphold the buttocks of English and, after 1603, “British” monarchs. Fast-forward again to the 20th century and, in 1914, suffragettes exploded a small device near the Stone, damaging the chair.

During the Second World War, there were fears about the Nazis getting their evil hands on the big beastie, so it was removed to Gloucester Cathedral for safekeeping.

When the Office of Works suggested sending it to Scotland, an abbey official retorted: “I trust the Office of Works will not lend itself to this attempt by the Scotch to get hold of the Stone by a side wind. You cannot be so simple as not to know that this acquisitive nation” – Jeezus! – “have ever since the time of Edward I been attempting by fair means or foul, to get possession of the Stone, and … we have received warnings from the Police that Scottish emissaries were loose in London, intending to steal the Stone.”

Well, he got that part right. In the early hours of Christmas Day, 1950, Glasgow student Ian Hamilton – who died last month – jemmied the door at Westminster Abbey and, aided by Gavin Vernon and Alan Stuart, removed the Stone from its trappings and dragged it on a mackintosh over the tiled floor to a waiting car with fellow student Kay Matheson at the wheel.

Though the heist was successful, it had not gone smoothly. The Stone broke in two, as nearly did Matheson’s toes. After burying the larger part in a Kent field, our heroes returned after a few days to find travellers camped there, but successfully extracted it and, along with a new accomplice, John Josselyn – an Englishman said to be descended from Edward I! – returned with it to Scotland.

The second part was fetched later, and the fragmented piece entrusted to Glasgow stonemason and independence supporter Robert “Bertie” Gray for repair.

In the meantime, a massive police hunt was under way, and the border between Scotland and England closed for the first time in 400 years. Four months later, the Stone, draped in a Saltire, was left on the altar of Arbroath Abbey and, shortly afterwards, returned to Westminster.

Though eventually caught, the four students were never prosecuted. Describing the action as “deplorable”, Sir Hartley Shawcross, Attorney-General, told the Commons he’d no desire to create “martyrs”, and spoke of “vulgar acts of vandalism” that had caused “great distress in England and Scotland”. Had they, aye?

On St Andrew’s Day 1996, 700 years after Edward’s pilfering, the British Government returned the Stone to Scotland. Today, it sits with the Scottish Crown Jewels (sceptre, wand, scrotum holder etc) at Edinburgh Castle. After Queen Elizabeth’s death, it was announced the Stone would be returned to Westminster Abbey for Charles’s coronation in 2023. That’ll be rich in symbolism.

In 2024, the Stone will be relocated to become the centrepiece of the new Perth Museum. So: is it the real Stone? It’s almost certainly the one the four students took from Westminster. Ian Hamilton himself has said as much. As for the Stone that Eddie got? We should have sold him some clouds while we were at it.