MY inbox is bursting with complaints from people who have been triggered by the recent conduct of some in the SNP’s career wing.

What seems to have caused this trauma isn’t the usual stuff about the SNP: the hypocrisy; the virtue-signalling, the preening sanctimony. It’s their recent habit of using bad language in public.

It is not that people are against the use of expletives.

For, as we all know, a little folly now and then is cherished by the wisest men.

It’s just that normal people can spot a fake when they see one and, let’s face it, the SNP has become full of them in the ruinous Sturgeon era.

SNP politicians have recently been chucking around curses and execrations like posh adolescents who have just uttered their first f*** and decided they like the sound of it.

First of all, we had Humza Yousaf, a former pupil at one of Scotland’s most expensive private schools.

The First Minister perhaps thinks that getting all f***ity f***ity will make people who do say f*** a lot think more of him.

Last month, Mr Yousaf targeted those who discriminate against others due to their race, gender or background.

He said he made no apologies for saying “f*** you” to them. To which, of course, we all say: “Quite f*****g right.”

It’s just that such words when deployed by Mr Yousaf don’t quite ring true, like when your dad, howling with Bacardi, won’t be dissuaded from getting to the dance floor when a hip-hop song comes on.

And besides, Mr Yousaf has helped create a hostile and malevolent atmosphere inside the SNP targeting women who believe in the truth that sex is binary and that a woman can’t have a penis.

The First Minister should be telling the violent misogynists inside his own party to get themselves to f*** or even take a right good f*** to themselves.

Instead, he’d probably call a meeting about it and then find a reason for missing it.

Cheeky comment

THE SNP’s drone class of lobby fodder has dutifully fallen in behind Mr Yousaf in getting all f***ity-w**k late in their gilded lives.

This has led to some distressing scenes. Chris Law MP decided that he too wanted to get down and dirty with the kids by branding the Tories as “two cheeks of the same a***”.

Mr Law, who owns a castle, is the MP for Dundee West, a formidable and heroic constituency which is bedevilled by some serious social and economic challenges.

He has previously gained renown for making telling contributions on video games investment and showing solidarity with the people of Tibet.

Mr Law has also been tasked with promoting independence abroad, a curious pursuit when you consider that his party are the worst advocates for it at home.

Uncouth in Cathcart

THEN we had James Dornan getting in on the act. Mr Dornan should not be confused with the Irish actor, male model and musician (an easy mistake to make) of the same name. Rather, this is the MSP for Glasgow Cathcart who has much previous for not knowing his a*** from his elbow when he talks politics.

Mr Dornan decided to wade into a Twitter spat with a social media bampot, yet only succeeded in making a total a*** of himself.

The pocket rocket from Cathcart described the anonymous social media roaster as a “f*****g moron” and suggested that he had a “blow-up girlfriend”.

It seemed that Mr Dornan was eager to show that he was a bit of a hardman, when in reality he couldn’t fight sleep.

Mr Dornan is no stranger to the delete button and, like several other of his maladroit tweets, this one has since been taken down. Was it the scurvy use of f*****g” that caused him to delete the tweet?

Or may he have inadvertently been guilty of the new crime of misgendering when using the term “blow-up girlfriend”?

Religious calling

TO the west coast of Ireland for a family wedding – I’m pictured above with my niece – where there is much swearing of a rather more joyful and authentic aspect.

Following the bender of all benders on the actual wedding day, I was somewhat taken aback to be informed that there was to be a second day of festivities and that this was official.

During the nuptial mass, one of my extended and much-loved family members, who hasn’t been near a church since Bishop Briggs was an altar boy, inadvertently takes a communion wafer.

He turns to me in distress, fearful that he may have offended Jesus.

I immediately put his mind at ease.

But I feel obliged to tell him that if he finds himself espousing locutions like “Jesus, Mary and Joseph”, or adding “if I’m saved”, or “God rest her” in normal conversation, that he should call the designated Vatican helpline at the first symptoms of creeping Catholicism.