SHOCK-WAVES have been rippling through the more douce parts of Edinburgh – and that’s pretty damned douce – after a community council officeholder told the capital’s city council leader to get knotted.

Yes, Norman Tinlin, secretary of Fairmileheid Community Cooncil, has upbraided Adam McVey, leader of Embra City Cooncil, for not wearing a tie to an important event.

All the males present – including Government ministers and other heid-the-baws – wore a tie, except Mr McVey, whose blue shirt remained unattended by neckwear.

Mr Tinlin, a former policeman, said in a letter to the McVey that he should dress in a manner befitting his position. Confounding suspicions that this might mean a straitjacket, Mr Tinlin clarified: “At the very least, in my opinion, this should be the wearing of a tie.” And he offered to buy one for Mr McVey.

Finding the criticism wearing, Mr McVey replied that his administration was “open and accessible”, implying that his bare neck represented such anarchy, and pointed out that dress codes had evolved in the past 50 years.

Mr Tinlin was unimpressed. “I have found,” he said, drawing on hard-won wisdom, “that those who are casual of dress are casual of mind.”

I must say I’m in two minds about this whole business. On the one hand, I’m uncertain about the tie-mind connection. It sounds a bit Buddhist to me. And, as a leading scientist, I find it objectively absurd that a strip of cloth should signify authority or dignity.

Mr McVey’s point about changing dress codes is a good one. Had they not changed, our representatives might still be wearing frock coats and top hats.

Surveys indicate that the statesmen most inspiring to young people today are Sir Harold Macmillan and Sir Anthony Eden. But the same young persons wouldn’t say today’s representatives should wear plus-fours and sport moustaches (compulsory in 1950s Britain and, indeed, still so in modern Turkey).

Perhaps Scotland isn’t made for pomp. In island areas particularly, men in suits are routinely pushed into the harbour. One might find oneself next to a multi-millionaire crofter but would only know this by the relative newness of his overalls.

All that said, I don’t approve of slovenliness, and cannot think it right that our political leaders should dress as if president of an eastern European country. More damningly, I am not a scientist, leading or otherwise.

You have to ask too where this lack of habiliments would end. Is the shirt next to go? The troosers? You titter, but already young people are showing hectares of unmentionables above dropped trooser waistbands.

Many respectable ratepayers may not care about Mr McVey’s lack of a tie but would be discombobulated were he to attend a royal dinner in light grey tracksuit bottoms, as if he were a connoisseur of fortified wine and had a fierce dog.

This whole informality lark is a bit Scandinavian, with moral relativity leading to raiment relativity. And it is all relative. If Mr McVey really had to meet Her Majesty, a Queen, you can bet your shirt he’d wear a tie. Indeed, were it the custom on meeting royals to wear the underpants on the head, his cranium would be awash with boxer shorts.

True, even the Queen reportedly dressed down recently for the Queen’s Speech, possibly out of pique at having to miss the horse-racing. But she still looked pretty smart in her new overalls.

None of this tie malarkey applies to ladies, who like dressing up. I can recall several female MSPs who attended the Sewerage and Drains Committee dressed for a night at the opera in 1936. True, some appeared to be tailored by Carpetright, but at least they made the effort.

Getting back to ties, I confess I haven’t worn one for years but then, other than for court appearances as “the accused” (such a lot of nonsense), I am not required to. I do nothing of public importance and represent only my own brain cells. And even they wouldn’t vote for me.

Clearly, people have voted for Mr McVey, who is only 30 and so should not be in a position of political responsibility in the first place. He shouldn’t be allowed to vote, never mind get elected.

Edinburgh City Council has provided many fine statesmen over the years, such as Lord Darling of Blackadder and Lord George “That’s all” Foulkes. Oddly enough, I’d assumed that – like these clots – Mr McVey was Labour, particularly given his slovenliness. But my researchers tell me he’s SNP.

That party is supposedly famed for its discipline, so leader Nicola Sturgeon should collar Mr Mc so-called Vey and get him tellt. Ties may be old-school to him but, as Mr Buddha said, an open collar frays the mind and knackers yir chakras.