Scotland, as far as many people outside the country are concerned, is a land of kilts and whisky and bonny wee lassies and tartan and haggis and roaming in the gloaming and all that sort of thing.

Close, but no cigar.

Scotland, from the perspective of festive television advertising, however, is a country of furniture. As far as I can see, Scotland (or at least the central belt) must be populated almost exclusively with furniture warehouses - World of Leather, Dwyers, FurnitureLand, Callahan’s - massive hangers on the outskirts of major connurbations, dedicated solely to the purchase of home furnishings, kitchens, carpets and beds. And that’s all.

I say this with some vague grasp of authority, because there has been little else but adverts for furniture warehouses between most programmes I’ve seen this festive season. Every ad break that swings buy, they’re there in a line - buy a sofa, get a discount on this fantastic kitchen, great beds, many half price.

I haven’t noticed this phenomenon on television south of the border - but then, I don’t watch much TV - and so it seems to me to be an ineffably scottish thing, characterised by cheap adverts (budget: �2.50 and some mince pies, starring extras pulled in from a bus stop and told to “look interested in that footstool”), masterful and somewhat exciteable male voice-overs, lots of long shots of garish sofas and fitted kitchens and the stores always seem to be located in (or near) Alloa, Stirling, Paisley and Falkirk.

It’s not even limited to the television either - the papers are also chock-full of adverts for furniture sales, all of which leads me to one burning, inevitable question:

People of central scotland, what are you doing with your furniture?

What is it about the scottish christmas and hogmanay celebrations that necessitate such vigorous seasonal purchase of homewares? Have the scots surreptitiously adopted the lovely (if slightly dangerous for moonlit pedestrians) southern italian tradition of “throwing out the old year” - flinging unwanted furniture out of the window and into the street on New Year’s eve each year, to bring good luck?

I certainly hope so, because it certainly beats the pants off knocking on strangers’ doors with a lump of coal.

Only kidding. I rather like the Hogmanay first footing tradition - in which neighbours, family and friends descend on each others’ houses after the bells, bearing gifts of silver (coin), coal, a cake or some shortbread and some whisky - though I know at least one person this year who had to improvise and showed up at a friend’s house three sheets to the wind, with some silver eyeshadow and some eyeliner (Kohl. Coal. Geddit?).