Week after week, the limitations of the devolution settlement are laid bare. A few days ago, it was the Mike Tyson affair, when Jack Straw, the Home Secretary, decided to allow the heavyweight bruiser and convicted criminal to climb into the ring in Glasgow without any reference to the politicians of Holyrood. Our MSPs were, predictably, outraged - despite the fact that the Scotland Act of 1998 makes it plain that immigration is a "reserved" matter (ie, London's business). But Straw did himself no favours. Even loyal Labourites were muttering in corners about his high-handedness. The SNP, of course, was delighted and made as much political hay as it could while the sun shone.
And, as if the SNP had not been handed enough on a plate, along comes the news that London knew that "rogue" GM seeds were sprouting in Perthshire and the Orkneys, without bothering to tell the Jocks. The Jocks are seriously miffed. Outraged might be a better word. Scotland's Rural Affairs Minister, Ross Finnie (Lib Dem), is demanding an explanation from England's agricultural supremo, Nick Brown. Naturally, the SNP has taken to accusing Brown of flouting the "concordats" between Westminster and Holyrood, and is gleefully demanding his head (knowing full well that it will not get it).
Which is tiresome. These cross-border squabbles are beginning to eat into the government's credibility. Labour's lead in Scotland is not all that overwhelming. These gaffes allow the SNP to turn every problem into a constitutional argument. It really is time the ladies and gents who man the London ministries (politicians as well as bureaucrats) took a peek at the Scotland Act to check what they can and cannot do on this side of the border. And even where they can operate in Scotland, they might try to do it with a bit of tact. Otherwise, Alex Salmond's grin can get only wider.
Ever eager to keep an eye out for things Godly, this diary was intrigued to see that there is a small but growing demand in Scotland for marriage ceremonies conducted by a "Celtic" priest. It seems that some young folk like the idea of being spliced at a wedding ceremony which, they believe, predates even the Roman Catholic version. At the risk of spoiling the fun, this diary would like to ask a question: how does anybody know what a Celtic wedding ceremony was like? After all, the old Culdee church more or less disappeared in the seventh century, after the Synod of Whitby decided that Britons (north and south) should tread the Roman path.
But our Celtomanes appear to have modelled their ceremony on the one that was dreamt up for the film Braveheart, that prime piece of transatlantic tosh. In the movie, William Wallace marries his princess in a ceremony at least 600 years out of date, even then. Which sounds daft, and so it is. But what ceremonial isn't? And, given the way that Scotland's churches have been losing adherents, a neo-Culdee church might be just the ticket. Which raises an even more interesting question: can Mel Gibson save Scotland for God?
To those that have, it shall be given, it says in the Bible. The MoD's decision to kit out our spanking new Typhoon warplanes with the European Meteor missiles instead of their American equivalents has been good news for Edinburgh, but bad news for Glenrothes in Fife. The BAe Systems factories in Edinburgh employ more than 3,000 people and will be kept busy for the next few decades.But few Scots seem to realise that the US firm Raytheon assembles its missiles in Glenrothes, so the MoD's decision is a blow to the Fife economy. Sometimes it looks as if Somebody up there is looking after Edinburgh. Whatever is going, the capital seems to get it.
