MY friends, both of whom are academics, were sharing their concerns about what might await their children at some of Scotland’s colleges and universities. They’re already having to revise their lecture notes in extraordinary ways to ensure that no one might possibly be offended by their content.

It seems that small bands of modern witchfinders monitor lecture theatres and report back to some amorphous central control bearing evidence of problematic scholarship.

Not very long ago the university authorities would treat any complaint arising from such activity with contempt – unless perhaps some wild historian was promulgating the theory that giant, interstellar lizards had taken over most of the planet’s most influential business and political offices.

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My friends’ worries centred on what the student experience might soon be like on our campuses. Today the acolytes of Matthew Hopkins (England’s notorious 17th-century Witchfinder General) are targeting their lecturers. It’s not unreasonable to suggest that students will soon be getting the 2am knock, the tactic perfected by the Stasi in East Germany.

They’ll be blindfolded and invited to accompany their fellow students with the burning torches to an unknown location. And there they’ll be interrogated by a panel of masked avengers about their suspicious activities and the meaning of the badges they’ve chosen to sport on their jackets.

“You were seen entering the GFT cinema house on Christmas Eve at approximately 4pm. This has given us cause to conclude that you were there for the purposes of watching It’s A Wonderful Life.”

“That’s correct, it’s a Christmas tradition in my family going back many years.”

“And yet you must also know that this film has been used as propaganda to convey a subliminal message that marriage and children are a desirable arrangement. Images of unsupervised children playing near rivers are also deeply irresponsible.

“Furthermore, the portrayal of the angel as a benevolent male channels insidious messages of binary supremacy. As this is a first offence you’ll be placed on probation. And a friendly word of advice, citizen: reflect on your continued attendance at the Catholic chaplaincy.”

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These discussions between me and my friends set a time frame of three to five years before student flying squads and midnight courts began imposing thought curfews on campuses. That was before we witnessed the extraordinary scenes at the Univerity of Edinburgh last week.

When a group of people, mainly women, attempted to attend a screening of the documentary Adult Human Female at the university they were prevented from doing so by a ring of aggressive, male-led trans-activists.

And then they were subject to loud denunciations in scenes reminiscent of Iran after the Ayatollahs came to power or North Korea when dissidents are forced to recant in public.

The aggressors were led by a man who seemed comfortable with preventing a group of peaceful women watch a documentary about a serious issue.

Perhaps you might seek refuge in hoping that men like this will eventually mature, get real and shed their narcissism. And then you realise that they are being orchestrated by grown-up – and very well-paid – politicians and their glove puppets in the commentariat. The extent of the radicalism of these middle-class actors begins and ends in Twitter threads. The politicians manipulate feeble minds as a means of diverting attention from their failures to deliver improvement in the real world.

Their clarion call is “trans rights are human rights”, a slogan rendered meaningless by the simple fact that no-one is seeking to eradicate trans rights. Though plenty of professional politicos are seeking to damage women’s rights and deploying tactics favoured by the world’s most repressive regimes to do so.

The student newspaper of the University of Edinburgh boasted that it wouldn’t be giving house-room to the biggest story in its main area of circulation. The clear inference was that the publication sympathised with the anti-women brigade.

Newspapers have all missed stories that were sitting underneath their noses. This can happen for any number of reasons.

This is the first time though, that I’ve seen a publication choosing to overlook the biggest story in town and then boast about it. If any of these toy-town journalists ever gain a foothold in the adult media then we really all are friar-tucked.

A WEE trip south of the river brings me to the annual Christmas Party of Sunny Govan Community radio. It’s a brilliant occasion and everyone, in true Glasgow fashion, must deliver a speech, a song or a joke.

The volunteers who present Sunny G’s programmes play music and provide practical advice as a means of engaging with their community.

They entertain them and advocate for them at the same time.

These community heroes are a million miles removed from the boutique, political performance art of the University of Edinburgh and its society of middle-class student witch-finders.