I know who Jack Campin (who is not a "guest") is. Not that it matters; we are supposed to be here to impart and exchange information, not speculate on who we are, or not. I also know who Guest: Derek Schofield is.

JC doesn't know who I am. Tough. All that writing over so many decades unnoticed. Do I care? No. I mind who my readership is.

I was referring mainly to a "guest" who - on a quick look at previous posts - is a SoH fan unaware of madlizziecornish. Bizarre. He also appears to have Terreblanche associations. Yeuk. He followed the lead of that reactionary Tory Mackenzie with apparently little better to do than sit in his council house dreaming of his clan and worshipping at the shrine of BPC. Packhunting without purpose.

As a Northumbrian, I know quite a lot about "tartan-clad chauvinisam" and pink-tinted specs ditties. They flooded into Newcastle with their kilts and claymores. They were waiting to assault my ears in London too. Thank deity of choice for Brian McNeill.

Some Jacobite songs are OK, that one is banal as already explained above in some detail. I don't care if Jack Campin happens to like it. Anyway, my beef is with the cowardly, drunken idiot BPC, not the entire concept of the Jacobite cause. I learned about that period of Scottish history in some detail from June Tabor who, fresh down from Oxford, was loafing about in C# House and I doubt that she knows less than Jack Campin.

The OP wanted to know about the song. I and others told him. I know lots about the soap in which the character appeared too. Though the "guest" I was referring to fails even to recognise my current Mudcat name as that of the local paper circulating in the area. Duh.