If there was any respite to be had from the all-pervasive culture of Jock-bashing, you'd think you might find it in the pages of a Jeanette Winterson novel. Alas, not a bit of it. I reach a mere page 19 and find the following line -
"I took to carrying a tartan rug wherever I went, like a far-out member of the Scottish Nationalist Party"
You'd think if she felt the need to chuck in a gratuitous insult about us she might have started by ensuring she at least got the name of the party right. Perhaps we should be grateful, though - the phrase "far-out member" at least seems to admit to the possibility there are some sane members as well!