With all due respect to peace-lovin’ Aquarians, it appears — thanks to our undiplomatic ambassador to Ireland Kevin Vickers — to be the dawning of the Age of the Ugly Canadian.

No longer is “sorry” our national anthem. No more do we apologize to bank machines or people who step on our toes. Anyone thinking about teasing us for saying “eh” might want to think twice.

Last fall’s Jose Bautista bat flip led to this spring’s Blue Jay brawling. The prime minister’s recent flying elbow produced a poll suggesting most Canadians are untroubled he planted it in an opposition breast. Now, ambassador Vickers has made the international media for manhandling an Irish protester who dared disrupt a ceremony this week in Dublin.

In fairness, a background as parliamentary sergeant-at-arms isn’t conventional training for the diplomatic corps. Vickers was awarded the post by the former Conservative government for putting a bullet in a terrorist who stormed Parliament Hill. So, in this case, Canada pretty much got what it paid for — a beat cop dressed up as diplomat.

When did our national temperament get so feisty, so pugnacious?

From our beginnings, of course, we had men and women of heroic bent. Our troops in wartime are second to none and better than most. Our leaders have succeeded where brave folk feared to tread, as Lester Pearson did in winning a Nobel Peace Prize for his role in resolving the Suez Crisis.

But our soldiers were quiet about it. Most refuse even to talk about it. And Pearson was the quintessential self-effacing peacemaker in the grey flannel suit.

Looking back, you have to think it was in the ’70s that we began to develop a bit of national attitude.

There was Pierre Trudeau’s “just watch me” in playing hardball with the FLQ. There was Bobby Clarke taking Valeri Kharlomov out of action with a two-hander to the ankle in the 1972 Summit Series.

At the time, such things seemed out of character. But slowly they became less the exception and the evolution towards a national choppiness continued.

In the 1980s, Don Cherry began his rise to Canadian icon as the belligerent, overdressed connoisseur of hockey brawling and denigrator of timid Swedes. And Calgary mayor Ralph Klein urged fellow Albertans during the oil crisis to “let the eastern bastards freeze in the dark.”

The ’90s brought us the PC government of Mike Harris and pitched battles on the lawns of Queen’s Park. And prime minister Jean Chrétien throttling a protester. And Toronto mayor Mel Lastman shaking hands with Hells Angels.

The rough and ready, chest-thumping culture of the New Canada really took office in the 21st century.

In 2010, against the expectations of all those with a sense of etiquette, the late Rob Ford was elected mayor of Toronto and spent much of the next few years crashing about the city, into tiny, older female councillors and offending cultured sensibilities wherever he could find them.

In 2012, Justin Trudeau, the man who would be PM, put traction on his leadership ambitions by punching out Sen. Patrick Brazeau in a charity boxing match.

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A tipping point was probably reached in April 2014 as Toronto Raptor GM Masai Ujiri roared a cheery “F--- Brooklyn!” to fans in Jurassic Park before a game against the NBA Nets.

So the die was pretty much cast. The Bat Flip. The Elbow. The Bad-Ass Ambassador.

Welcome to Canada. But keep yer head up.