Robert McNeil: A gift to the nation from the lugularly large Duke of Rothesay could come at a price

PRINCE Charles, who hopes to inherit Britain, has often come in for criticism for his environmentalist views, pro-Islam stance, and big sticky-oot ears. Some of this criticism is merited, some not. His environmentalist views may at times be wrong-headed, but at least they start a debate (usually under the heading, "Well, should we lock him up or what?"). His ears, on the other hand, are a disgrace and have brought shame on the nation abroad, where the natives often titter.

However, I haven't gathered you here today to discuss the putative sovereign's ears. If you check your agendas, you'll find only one subject up for discussion: who owns Scotland? You say: "Well, that's easy to answer. Not us, that's for sure. It's all these toffs, foreigners, and so forth. They appropriated it in the 19th century so they could shoot things and pretend they were big."

These are good points well made. But, in a radical move typical of the man, Prince Charles has set a precedent. He has only gone and promised to give Balmoral to the Scottish nation when he becomes King of England and the Other Bits. This is astonishing. You say: "There's bound to be a catch. Maybe he can't keep up with the mortgage payments, what with the credit crunch and everything."

But he doesn't make mortgage payments, you pillock. Balmoral is a cooncil hoose, though admittedly you'd have to have your name doon a long time on the waiting list before it was offered to you. But none of this is here nor, arguably, there.

Anyway, it's the thought that counts. Let us climb into the Prince's ear and worm our way along to the wainscotted brain to look at that thought a little more closely. He is proposing to give Scotland back the hoose and the estate's 50,000 acres (that's right, 50,000 acres – mental or what?), as long as he and his burd, that Camilla, can bide in Birkhall, a mansion in the grounds.

Forget the fact that it costs £3 million a year to run Balmoral. We'll find the dosh. The main thing is: the place is ours! Oh, glory! But how did this deal come aboot? Well, one worrying aspect is that it appears to have been concluded after strong drink was imbibed.

PC made the offer to Big Eck Salmond, leader of all Scotia (minus the treacherous bits), during a private dinner at Birkhall last week. According to someone described as a source ("Hello, what do you do?" "I'm a source"): "There's a real bond between Mr Salmond and the Prince. It helps that they share a fondness for whisky." Uh-oh. What if Prince Charlie made the offer after the drams had made him too happy? Maybe he woke up next morning and thought: "Aw, as it were, naw!"

Despite rooting aboot in the Prince's brain, I remain unsure of his motivation. You say: "Perhaps he's just being kind? Perhaps he no longer wishes to see Scotia divided among a small group of maladjusted freaks, who mismanage the land to mangle deer and grouse for fun? Perhaps he has become a communist like Citizen Eck?"

These are bad points poorly made. You must keep the heid when dealing with royalty, particularly when they're called Charles. The man is not likely to become a fair-minded communist when he stands to inherit the free food and board that come with the crown.

But consider this: funny things have been happening at Balmoral. Only last week, shocked citizens learned that Charlie's mammy, that Queen, runs aboot with a net catching bats in the ballroom. Earlier, Cherie Blair revealed that she and her husband – the former prime minister, for pity's sake! – had engaged in libidinous-style houghmagandy to get warm. The place makes people behave strangely. Maybe Eck will go to live there and come out saying: "We're too wee and uniquely stupid to run oor ain affairs. I agree with the traitors: let London rule us for ever!"

The nation should treat this offer with caution. At least, let a priest, minister or leading councillor conduct an exorcism.

Corbett offers a short reminder of why he's proud of his roots

HOW shocking that Ronnie Corbett has taken a rhetorical swing at "Sir" Sean Connery (that knighthood will be rescinded by a revolutionary committee on independence). Ronnie has lambasted Sean for banging on aboot independence while living abroad.

That wee Ronnie is a Patriot for London Rule is hardly surprising. Most of these capering jocks are. But to raise that old canard about living abroad is just so last century.

Nobody in their right mind would live in Scotland, particularly if they're Scottish. Every day lived here is another 24 hours of shame and humiliation. It is little surprise that many of the best have left.

But not wanting his country to run its own affairs does not make Ronnie any less proud of his native heath in other respects. Listen to this: "I feel pretty Scottish. I love the feel of Scotland – the shopping. I'm talking about shopping for things like vegetables."

Yes, it fair makes the blood stir in your veins to contemplate these carrots. Remember: they make take our parliament, but they can never take our neeps!