Definitions of “dogma” in my dictionary include “a point of view or tenet put forth as authoritative without adequate grounds,” and “a principle or set of principles laid down by an authority as incontrovertibly true”.
The authority in this case is Aberdeenshire Council and the dogma that proves they’re barking mad is their decision to rip-out open fireplaces from properties in Braemar.
In a village that can make Siberia seem like the Sahara in comparison and where reckless bikini-wearing could lead to hypothermia rather than sultry suntans, it’s madness.
It’s only weeks since Storms Arwen and Barra ripped through north-east Scotland with winds even more personally dreadful than those following a fiery vindaloo and copious cheap lagers.
The storms demonstrated we’re unprepared for converting totally to “clean” energy as our existing power distribution systems lack reliability and resilience in rough weather which, according to environmental analysts, we can expect with greater regularity in years ahead.
Council pie-in-the-sky dreams that pole-and-wire electricity networks can instantly become sufficiently robust to resist the ravages of a Scottish winter are as fanciful as Inverurie Locos winning the European Champions League.
Had it not been for the ability of thousands to have the option of obtaining life-saving warmth from their open fires, the storms’ impacts could have been considerably more catastrophic.
But such realities don’t sit kindly with dogmatic decision-makers. They have targets to meet, they argue. Yes, that’s true, but they are targets defined by urban dwellers hundreds of miles from the hearths of the Highlands and so not fit for purpose here.
I have a “grate” idea to tackle this “flue” epidemic, though. During the winter, Aberdeenshire Council should meet daily in Braemar Village Hall then abundant hot air generated by their vacuous verbiage could be piped to heat the homes of locals they’re leaving out in the cold.
I detest it when, according to my dictionary’s definition, a point of view is put forth as authoritative without adequate grounds. Another example concerns Dr Erin Pritchard, a lecturer in disability studies at Liverpool Hope University, who claimed that the name of the popular sweet, Midget Gems, was a form of hate speech.
M&S buckled quickly to rename them Mini Gems, and other politically correct retailers will doubtless follow soon. Dr Pritchard, who has achondroplasia, a condition which stunts growth, is undeniably sincere in her beliefs, but I’ve never come across anyone connecting the sweet’s name with dwarfism.
Such myopic obstinacy sets a perilous precedent. Will the exploits of Second World War heroes who sailed midget submarines from Scotland to attack the battleship Tirpitz in Norway now see their vessels renamed?
Is the MG Midget sportscar doomed to be erased from history and become, confusingly, an MG Mini?
What about other potentially insulting names such as Ginger Nut biscuits ridiculing red-headed Scots or Rich Tea biscuits snobbily dismissing the poor.
Placenames, too, must soon be under threat. Larger people might object to the inference of Muckle Flugga or Banffshire’s Fattahead, and no one wants to be called an old dear in Old Deer or an Old Man of Hoy.
Will Auldearn soon become Still-Young-Earn? Some might take issue with the names Blackdog or the Black Isle as being somewhat dodgy, and similarly for Dyke, Tarty or maybe even Arbroath FC’s Gayfield.
As for sexism, to ensure true modern-day equality, surely Hopeman must now become Hope-Person-Of-No-Defined-Gender and Mannofield become Person-o-Field, the way the terms fireman, postman and batsman and have been consigned to the nomenclature dustbin.
Finding insult and irritation everywhere one looks is rather easy, sadly, but rarely provides the catalyst for real and welcome changes in discriminatory attitudes.
But before anyone becomes emotionally dramatic about my dismissiveness of dogmatic daftness, I should point out that a much-loved close relative of mine had achondroplasia.
He was a marvellous man of intelligence, humour and sporting success who did more to shatter misconceptions of dwarfism than any amount of petty name-calling.
He would happily have guzzled a bag of Midget Gems without a second thought and laughed loudly at suggestions of any contrary connotations.
When it came to being dogmatic or small-minded, he was, I’m proud to say, much bigger than that.