WEEK after week, the readers of this column have been subjected to rants penned by boring, humourless chaps – the sort who will not stop from banging on about democracy, good government, human rights, honest administration, a written constitution, the Claim of Right, and all that nonsense.

Well, I see through their nefarious schemes. Their plan is quite clear. They aim at nothing less than separatism. All the knocks and blows they deliver against the glorious British constitution are directed towards but one end – to persuade the people of North Britain to separate themselves from the most successful union the world has ever seen.

No doubt, if Drummond or Bulmer had, as usual, written this week’s column, they would have whined as is their wont, mocking historic British institutions and casting jealous eyes across the sea to places such as Ireland or Norway.

With the Barbados Independence Act 1966 in their back pockets and fragments of the Claim of Right engraved on their dark separatist hearts, they’d probably find something or other in the news to complain about, circling everything back to their persistent line: that the United Kingdom’s problems are essentially constitutional in nature, and that Scotland’s best hope lies in the development of an independent written constitution that conforms to basic European and Commonwealth democratic norms.

Democracy-renewing, constitution-writing nationalists might like to quip that ‘‘The British Constitution isn’t worth the paper it’s not written on’’, or that it amounts to “whatever the Government with a working majority says it is”.

They might try to alarm us by reminding us the Scottish Parliament hangs by a thread which any ordinary parliamentary majority in Westminster could, notwithstanding the promises made in the “Vow” of 2014, cut without notice. But they mock that which they do not understand.

They overlook the sublime moderation and pragmatism of the British constitution. They ignore its flexibility – its capacity to combine stability and continuity with gradual improvement and incremental change. They fail to see that its pomp and circumstance – the hats, the ermine – all have their proper purpose, which is to ensure that the ship of state sails on unperturbed no matter what the political storms of the moment may be.

It proceeds at a serene, liturgical pace, like the Shipping Forecast or Test Match Special: “As it was in the 18th century, is now, and evermore shall be, British Constitution without end. Amen.”

So, no matter what the scoffers and gainsayers might assert, this has been another quiet week in constitutional politics. There is not much out of the ordinary to report. The great traditions of the British constitution continue as always.

The Prime Minister, having with the usual solemnities sacked more than 20 members of his own party, dutifully lost six Commons votes in a row as custom requires. This was followed by the usual ceremony of refusing to resign while failing to secure a General Election.

The Speaker then had the customary stand-off with Black Rod, uttering the ceremonial words: “This is not, however, a normal prorogation. It is not typical. It is not standard. It is one of the longest for decades, and it represents, not just in the minds of many colleagues but for huge numbers of people outside, an act of executive fiat.”

It’s all part of the ritual.

After this the Honourable and Right Honourable members on the Opposition benches chanted “Shame on you!” in accordance with the best hallowed traditions of British parliamentarianism, as we obedient Tories filed out to the regular oblivion of prorogation. The sign ‘‘Silenced’’ hung on the empty Speaker’s chair as it has on every occasion since this custom began last Monday.

The Court of Session declared that the prorogation was unlawful, and that the Prime Minister had lied to the Queen, but pending appeal to the Supreme Court the stately British constitution let everything carry on as normal.

Of course, in accordance with established practice, Parliament hurriedly passed an emergency bill to prevent a No-Deal Brexit in the hope that we won’t run out of food or medicines before the end of November, and the Government gave the customary response that it wouldn’t give a damn and would do as it jolly well pleased.

All this is perfectly normal and a good sign of the great British unwritten constitution effortlessly sorting everything out as it has for centuries. Best of all, Geoffrey Boycott got a knighthood. What’s not to like? Time for one more rousing chorus of Rule Britannia before the sun sets.

It takes a particularly ungrateful type of whinger not to want to maintain such a glorious union with its hallowed time-honoured institutions. After all, we don’t want to end up like Norway or Denmark.