“We Scots ...” implored David Mundell, as he proposed the second reading of the Scotland bill.

The Scotland secretary could just about keep a straight face as he said that, but only by looking straight ahead. As the last Tory standing north of the border, Mundell currently has the safest job in British politics: even if he were to start openly campaigning for Britain to leave the EU, David Cameron couldn’t sack him because as there is no possible alternative.

Not that David Cameron would want to do something like that because, earlier in the day, he’d gone out of his way to put it on record that when he’d said precisely that the day before, he’d actually meant the exact opposite. Thanks for clearing that one up, prime minister.

Not that the Scotland secretary would for a moment dream of doing anything that might upset anyone, either. As he was at pains to declare, all Mundell wanted was the best for everyone. He loved Scotland more than life itself, just as he loved England more than life itself. He might well feel as strongly about Wales and Northern Ireland for all I know, for though we are Four Nations, the Tories are but One Nation. They just haven’t quite decided yet who is included in it.

We’re giving you everything you want and more, Mundell reiterated time and again. “We will be implementing the Smith Commission in full.” Scotland would be God’s paradise on Earth, a land of milk and heather where anything Holyrood wanted, it could have – except the bits it couldn’t.

For some reason, the SNP members were disinclined to take him at his word and frequently interrupted him. “Isn’t it the case that the bill would allow the UK parliament to veto anything Scotland did that it didn’t like?” asked Peter Wishart.

“Heavens no,” sobbed an utterly distraught Mundell. “The word veto is such an ugly word.” And he only wanted to speak in happy, fluffy words. “There is no veto. Just a right to disagree so strongly you can’t do it.”

Up stepped Alex Salmond. “The Scottish Daily Record argues that the proposals go nowhere near to implementing the Smith Commission,” he said. “They do, they do,” Mundell replied, “But even if they don’t, then that’s why we’re having the debate so you can make some amendments. And while you’re about it, what is the SNP position on fiscal autonomy?”

It’s clear that what you all need is some trust. Bear with us. Listen to us. Trust us. Love us. We come in peace

Some SNP members laughed out loud at this. Fiscal autonomy means whatever we say it means, pal, they muttered. Some days it means being in control of all Holyrood’s tax-raising powers, on others it just means being in controls of the bits we fancy. Real fiscal autonomy means keeping your options open.

“That’s typical of the Scottish Nationalist Party,” said the ever-out-of-touch Conservative, Gerald Howarth, who has yet to discover the SNP stands for Scottish National Party. “We want to know what we are transitioning to,” demanded another backbench voice. What with this and the name changing, devolution was beginning to sound more and more like gender reassignment.

Help was at hand. “Guys, guys,” Heidi Allen, the newly elected Conservative MP for South Cambridgeshire, advised the SNP. “I’ve been listening to you all and it’s clear that what you all need is some trust. Bear with us. Listen to us. Trust us. Love us. We come in peace.” Allen’s intervention momentarily silenced the chamber, as members tried to work out if Allen was the most naive MP ever to enter parliament or the most delusional. It was as if the whole general election campaign, in which her party had won power by telling the English that the Scots were a greater threat to global stability than the Nazis and commies combined, had never happened.

An old-timer was sent over to put her right. “We may not know what we mean by One Nation,” he whispered in her ear. “But it sure as hell doesn’t include the Scots.”