Come on, Arlene, have you never heard of the Flintstones?

Friday night’s Tracey Ullman Show featured a very clever sketch about a self-help group for people who need to think the same way. The premise was a protest against hollow emptiness, about the dangers of a society in which we’re encouraged to say very little. And it was right on the money because the dissident voice is being diluted.

In recent days, comedy actor Ford Kiernan tweeted to his 50,000 followers that he didn’t rate Emily Sande’s Glastonbury performance at all. Yet, his colourful description of the non-event resulted in national newspaper coverage.

Two days ago, a right-leaning broadsheet launched an attack on BBC political editor Laura Kuenssberg claiming she’s a “lightning rod for public vitriol”, suggesting the Scots journalist’s critical voice was a little too loud. Yet, bizarrely, the paper acknowledged she attacks all political sides with equal gusto.

On a more personal level, a weekend appearance on Radio Scotland’s Shereen programme was fun, and the show encourages contrasting opinions – which is why I felt it safe to describe the Proclaimers (apropos their recent documentary) as being as interesting as a couple of chemistry teachers and the alchemists of just three (albeit cracking) songs.

Now, the result was a lovely dingdong with Big Issue editor Paul McNamee (leading into his robust defence of one-hit wonders Dexys Midnight Runners) – but afterwards the social media and text comment about my dismissal of the Proclaimers suggested I’d declared myself to be a secret DUP supporter, or a Satanist, whichever is worse.

Does not liking the Proclaimers mean I’m trashing my cultural heritage?

It’s not to say there aren’t strong opinions out there. And we have to be careful about social media content. There is no place for the injurious, the racist or sexist and certainly not anything defamatory. But ideas and thoughts driven underground have a power to grow in the darkness.

That’s why you have to have Katie Hopkins figures. It’s incontrovertible that the woman who describes immigrants as cockroaches is not someone you would have in your house, unless that house is a damp Gothic hellhole situated at the end of a dark, creepy, bat-filled lane. But her success as a columnist suggests a huge following, and if she’s allowed to go public she can at least be challenged, and others can hear the counter argument.

This week, Prince Harry was derided for revealing some members of the Royal Family didn’t want the top job and it was claimed he should shut up and be grateful he doesn’t live in a council flat in Possil. And that’s true. But what’s also true is the royal voice also opens up the debate about spending by the monarchy and so on. Those telling this royal to shut up were probably the same people applauding him for his revelations about depression.

We’re celebrating the 50th anniversary of The Graduate. Dustin Hoffman’s Benjamin Braddock wasn’t the perfect role model in that he got up to hotel hi-jinks with his parents’ friend, while dating her daughter, but the strength of the film is that Benjamin did reveal a voice, albeit a mumbling New York voice, that declared he wouldn’t be pushed into thinking the same way as everyone around him.

We shouldn’t compromise on honesty. We don’t expect Theresa May to say, “Come on, Arlene, you’ve blackmailed me into bed with a political party some of whose members deny the existence of dinosaurs – surely you’ve heard of The Flintstones?” but at hint of honesty about her strategy would serve us better.

We don’t need alternative facts, but we do need alternative voices. Scottish vocality has long been our strength, from Enlightenment figures such as David Hume and Adam Smith to John McLean to Billy Connolly and Sir Alex Ferguson.

We don’t need to be held back by trigger warnings or social demands for uniformity or worry about the snowflake generation that doesn’t want to hear views that contrast with its own. Ian Hislop spoke recently of open-mind solutions to immigration. That implies open voices.

That’s why it’s perfectly fine to declare that the new Texas single reveals all the melodic content of an air conditioner.