So, the ex-SNP Chief Executive Peter Murrell’s spending spree included a £3,192 Frank Smythson tea set and vanity bureau, two Bremont World Timer Alt 1 watches (worth more than £9,000), and a set of £2,600 Lalique salt and pepper grinders. Nothing but the best for the Scots Nats, eh? And it’s telling that not only could Nicola Sturgeon’s estranged husband not afford this on his own, but he’d be even less likely to do so were Scotland independent, with an economy slightly less than one of the smaller Baltic states. Up the workers, indeed.

I’d like to say, “What do you expect of the Scots Nats?” but the truth is, rather a lot. I disagree with just about every syllable that comes out of a Scot Nat’s mouth – as a small island, we three countries work far better together – but I didn’t think they were corrupt. Quite the opposite: I thought their devotion to destroying the most successful political union in history was such that they’d make sure that everything was squeaky clean elsewhere. It seems not.

And while I have no idea if Nicola Sturgeon knew what her husband was up to, and she insists not, if my other half plonked a brand new stonking motorhome costing six figures on my mother-in-law’s driveway, I rather suspect I’d want to know where it came from.

If anything, it looks as if Murrell was hiding in plain sight, telling a Shetland jeweller, “I’m the man with the money,” when he and his blushing bride were on a shopping spree. Yes, love, but it wasn’t your own.

My husband is Scottish and he told me that his own Scottish father advised him never to vote for a Nationalist as they were second-raters more suited to the lower echelons of the town hall.

Nothing since Tony Blair started the destruction of the Union by creating a Scottish parliament has convinced me otherwise. Frankly, my cat would have done a better job of running Holyrood than this shower and at least she wouldn’t have made off with all the dosh.

As recounted here before, my last encounter with a Scots Nat was in Tunisia last year. She chose to travel to Tunis from Edinburgh via Frankfurt, rather than Edinburgh via London, because she didn’t want to set foot on English soil.

This added a mere five hours to her journey, gave her a cricked neck and backache, sleep deprivation she never caught up with and she ended up leaving the tour early because she didn’t like the “vibe”.

Or to put it another way, most of us were English. Scotland is a beautiful country and I’m proud to sport a Scottish crest. Let’s save it from these loons once and for all.