It’s wise, I think, for those who profess belief in religious faith to be cautious about expressing outrage whenever they feel that this is being mocked.

In Scotland, there is enough evidence of real hostility to traditional Christian values in civic life without seeking to be offended by imagery or opinions that merely challenge those principles.

Overlooking my workspace at home there is a framed black and white photograph, taken in the 1980s, of an Afghan rebel warrior standing on top of a mountain with a rocket-launcher (complete with said missile). 

It was taken by my esteemed friend, the war correspondent David Pratt, and does what all good photographs do: it transports you to a place and time and then sparks your imagination about the circumstances in which it was taken. 

It occupies a large space on my wall, not because I may have sympathy for this young Afghan’s cause or have a fetish for Middle East battle paraphernalia. 

It’s simply a magnificent photograph that evokes the struggles of the Afghan people against one of the many countries and empires which have sought to conquer them. 

When I first observed some of the opening sequences in Friday’s night opening ceremony for the Paris Olympics, it became clear that very influential people had decided that mocking some of Christianity’s most sacred beliefs should be a central theme. Yet, I refrained from making any trite, smartass comments about it on social media lest I become guilty of seeing demons where none exist. 

Having watched it again the following morning, I began to sympathise with those who had expressed anger at the grotesque rendering of Leonardo da Vinci’s painting of The Last Supper. The great Italian renaissance artist had made his painting as a work of reverence for one of the holiest and most sacred events in the Christian narrative.

The semi-pornographic and leering depiction of this in the Olympics opening ceremony seemed designed not to challenge or even to express an abstract concept. 

Rather, it looked like a sinister attempt to invalidate the importance of The Last Supper and to humiliate those who hold it to be sacred. 

Nor did there seem to be any connection with the Olympics or French culture in this creepy and ugly depiction of Christ and the apostles. Among several questions arising from this, one stands out: would the organisers have dared to mock Islam and the Prophet in this way? Or any of the other great world religions? 

Hyper-sexualised
The organisers also seemed keen to mock women in this extravagant bacchanal of chaotic excess.

Their eagerness to insult Christianity angered many people, but their hyper-sexualised and distorted depictions of women – as portrayed by men with beards – was simply heartbreaking. 

This disturbing parody of women seemed designed to remove agency from them and to render them little more than objects of scorn in a distorted fantasy. 

As more and more men masquerading as women poured forth in this Danse Macabre in the Paris night, another truth became evident. These fake women were not merely mocking real women and stealing their identities, they were also stealing paid work from them.

Several Western governments have connived at this implacable dismantling of what it means to be a woman, and none more so than the SNP. In the opening ceremony for Paris 2024, this take-down of authentic womanhood seemed to reach its nadir. 

Of the political, cultural and social movements that have shaped the world we now live in – for better or for worse – this transnational pogrom against women has been the most chilling and sinister. 

Lesson in diversity
IN Scotland, we are often lectured by our civic gendarmes to be respectful of all the traditions and belief systems that contribute to the glorious diversity of our country. 

In truth, though, the vast majority of ordinary Scots don’t need any lessons in this and certainly not from the SNP which, in the words of its former MP Joanna Cherry has become a “political party that allows male members to harass and abuse female members, including elected parliamentarians, without any censure”. 

Not long ago, the annual Pride March was a genuinely festive event, celebrating not just gay and lesbian culture but also the victories – gained across several painful decades – in the face of institutional and cultural homophobia. 

Now, it’s avoided by many who were pioneers in the Pride movement and who suffered physical and psychological assaults in the struggle for gay rights. The award-winning Scottish documentary-maker Malcolm Clark is one of these activists. 

When I interviewed him last year, he said this: “We spent 60 years convincing the public that gay people didn’t have designs on vulnerable children and now it’s almost a badge of honour among some LGBT groups to be careless about risks or actively to promote gender identity.”

Some of the images from last week’s Pride March in Glasgow seemed to underline Mr Clark’s concerns. 

Murray is mint
FOLLOWING Andy Murray’s decision to retire, a predictable debate has ensued: who is Scotland’s greatest sportsman. Some have chosen to ridicule the idea of Mr Murray being the greatest, but he must be a contender. 

(Image: Martin Rickett)

All I’ll say is that in an era when Scottish football and rugby were plunging new depths of mediocrity, Andy Murray – almost single-handedly – made us walk a little taller in the international arena. 

There are no more fiercely competitive sports than top-class international men’s tennis in the modern era and Mr Murray reached its pinnacle. Along the way he also brought us great joy. So, don’t be too quick to dismiss claims that he is our greatest ever.