THERE was a time that was Camelot for Ruth Davidson, when she awoke each morning to be told that she was Queen of Scotland in waiting. In those golden few months, all too brief, she was garlanded at UK national conferences as the saviour of Conservatism in Scotland. Some even ventured to suggest there was a Tory revival in her realm and that she would soon rule this dominion in her Territorial Army fatigues, washed clean of paintball stains. Her coat of arms would feature burly men and a de-commissioned tank.

Only with some difficulty were you able to divine amongst the gushing and slapping of chops that passed for analysis that, in the 2017 Westminster election the SNP had taken 35 seats out of 59, thus achieving an overall majority in Scotland in a polity they wanted to leave. Three years after an independence referendum that was supposed to extinguish the lights of Scottish self-determination the party of independence remained untouchable.

This Queen of Scotland lark seemed to be quite easy at first: just keep saying there shall be no second referendum and that Scottish independence is nasty and divisive. Throw in some barbs about “doing the day job” and get the Union Jack out at every opportunity.

The problem, of course, with defining yourself purely on being against stuff is that at some point your bosses in England will begin to stand for some of that stuff too. Worse – they might soon be forced into making deals with people of whose social and cultural views you heartily disapprove. In the face of this it might help if even a handful of your 13 Westminster members had the charm, character and intellect to negotiate such treacherous currents. And therein lay Ms Davidson’s problem: if you opt to make the British Crown and its armed forces and the Union Jack the backbone of your party’s entire cultural appeal you’ll be landed with this shower.

Curiously, the New Statesman, home of the acquiescent left and hammer of Corbynism quickly fell under the spell of the Scottish Tory leader. Included in a series of gushing features on Ms Davidson was this one, written two years ago: “There is no doubt that Davidson matters. In resurrecting a party left for dead, she has injected it with a strong Unionist message, social and economic liberalism, and a blue-collar earthiness that makes it hard for her opponents to paint her as a corporate stooge. She is openly gay, and engaged to her partner. She threw herself into the Remain campaign during the 2016 EU referendum. Since then, she has used public platforms to denounce a “divisive Brexit” and has criticised nationalism ‘which demands people support one camp or another’.” This encomium has not, as they say, aged well.

Thus did tumbleweed begin to be observed blowing through Camelot. Such social and economic liberalism there was to be found within the UK Conservatives was routinely opposed by the Scottish contingent who seemed to be moving to ground occupied by the European Research Group and its chief ally, Nigel Farage. Thereafter Ms Davidson could only gawp helplessly when her boss Theresa May turned to the Democratic Unionist Party in a deal sweetened with a £1bn bribe to rescue her from her election catastrophe. That the DUP are implacably opposed to the matrimonial choices of Ms May’s Scottish chief on account of her sexuality did not matter. Brexit and the Tories’ desperation to get it through at any expense has been the only game in town for the UK Tories.

Such have been the contortions and unholy alliances they’ve got themselves into to get this across the line that it renders Ms Davidson’s oft-repeated claims about Scottish nationalism being narrow and divisive obsolete. Actually, "any expense" isn’t quite accurate. Rather, the Tories’ desperation for Brexit could never include anything authored by the hated SNP. Thus in December, 2017, each of Ms Davidson’s 13 Tories, all of whom had pledged to “stand up for Scottish interests” voted against the amendment that would have prevented UK ministers using new powers in the EU Withdrawal Bill to change the Scotland Act. In which light Mrs May’s claim made at Stirling on Thursday that she and her party are the champions of devolution is a dishonest one.

By this time it had become apparent to the people of Scotland, including those who previously had no truck with nationalism, that the last occupants of the Celebrity Big Brother house would do a better job of standing up for Scotland than this lot. Back at Holyrood, meanwhile, Ms Davidson, now on maternity leave, could only watch as the Tory revival in Scotland was led at Holyrood by Jackson Carlaw, a man who voted against even having a Scottish Parliament. When the results of the European elections last month saw the Tory vote in Scotland slump to an all-time low you would think that the descent from their nascent revival was complete. But you’d be wrong.

The sight of members of the new Brexit Party conducting themselves like adolescents in the new session at Brussels (while picking up their six-figure salary packages) was followed by Theresa May’s last-ditch attempt not to be regarded as the woman who destroyed the Union. Ms Davidson will soon be forced to turn to Boris Johnson as he solicits support in his bid to become Prime Minister. Perhaps then she’ll have a chance to ask him if his plan to make himself Minister for the Union will clash with her own position as its champion in Scotland. Mr Johnson, presumably, will respond by telling Ms Davidson that, as she seemed prepared to back every one of his rivals for the leadership, she might like to take a running jump.

Neil Mackay: We need to start talking about the abolition of the monarchy

Perhaps she’ll move then to Mr Johnson’s rival, Jeremy Hunt, a man who wants to withdraw support for any overseas visits undertaken by Nicola Sturgeon, even though they may stimulate inward investment in an economy that Mr Hunt’s colleague Philip Hammond predicts might need to plug a £90bn post-Brexit hole. First, though, she might ask him to refrain from making any more comments about Culloden.

Aye, a Tory revival in Scotland right enough: blink and you’ll have missed it.