This week sees the release of the film A Dangerous Game. It’s about Scotland and Donald Trump. What an upsetting combination. We’re being dumped by one and dumped on by the other. I’ve been bored, bored, bored by the Scotland palaver for months, but now it’s nearly over and they may be leaving us for ever, I feel rejected and left in the lurch. They’ll be away singing “I’m all right, Jock”, and we’ll be left stuck down here with the Tories, off to hell in a handcart.

“I don’t see why you expect the Scottish people to do you a favour,” says Fielding. “Why should they like the English? I don’t. I’ve had enough of all these effing public schoolboys.” What a fool. Does he think there’ll be any difference? It’s just the same up there. Rich bogeymen versus everyone else. It’s not just a favour I want. I’m thinking of the Scottish too. Perhaps the Scots ought to watch that film and be warned. They could soon be stuck in the same old ordure: billionaires, toadying politicians and environmental damage, versus locals, biodiversity and beautiful natural landscape, just like England. Scotland could end up blanketed in golf courses and dotted with 90-year-old women having to schlep all their water in by bucket, like the elderly lady in A Dangerous Game, because Mr Greedy Developer has cocked up her water supply. Who helped Trump to get his wicked way? Yes, Mr Salmond, who over-ruled Aberdeenshire council’s decision to refuse his golf course.

I suppose this could be sour grapes, but Rosemary will miss them too. “I feel proud of Scotland,” says she romantically. “I like to boast about it when I go abroad: the lochs and castles, the pine forests, islands and mountains. My Grandma was an orphan there …”

That boasting will have to stop. Scotland might not be hers anymore. United we used to stand, divided we may fall. “I think we’ve fallen already,” says Fielding. For once, he may be right.