TRUTH is, ah wis born tae be nuttin maire than a footnote in someboady else’s memoir. Ah wis furever bein telt what tae hink, how tae feel. Persuaded tae be suttin ah wis never meant tae be.

Ah’m 35 year auld and ah’ve hud maire dreams than opportunities. Maire kicks in the baws fae life than ah care tae remember, tae. Ma minutes and hours oan this planet wur programmed tae be spent in some soul destroyin call centre. Hopeless endeavours tae ensure that folk like me never git too far above oor station.

Ma dad wisnae much ae a reader, eh? Although, in sayin that, neither wis he a dafty. He hud a detailed knowledge ae the gid auld days here in Leith. He wid often tell me stories aboot sailors descendin oan the port fae the four corners ae the planet.

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The yin hing aboot ma faithur wis. He wis a right gid storyteller. When he wis a young man. He worked at the Henry Robb shipyaird. It wis a place that gave folk fae here suttin ma generation widnae even recognise within thumselves. An identity.

But then Thatcher came along. And aw ae a sudden boays like ma faithur, who hud grafted aw their days withoot complaint, wur shamefully directed straight tae the back ae the dole queue. The shipyaird closed in 1984, likes.

Efter, ma dad and his mates marched fae the gates aw the wey acroass tae the auld state cinema in Great Junction Street. A revolt which ultimately failed as a final stand against the establishment.

Ah kin remember vividly, eh? He showed me a picture ae his youngerself huddin up a sign which read “Dinnae bring back the 30s”. Yit the painful truth wis, the 1930s hud awready arrived in the form ae Thatcher.

He wis in the vanguard when she decided tae cut oaff the baws ae the area. There’s only so many tins ae Heinz baked beans yae kin scan at a busy checkout in Asda before yae start askin the forbidden question: “What’s life aboot?”. Try tae answer that in a 15-minute interview at the careers office.

And by the time you do you’re 65 and yur best years are well behind yae.

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Suttin Thatcher did dae fur the better, even if it wis unintentional, wis that she set future workin class Scots free fae the ootdated mentality that somehow bein British meant suttin.

The moment she started shuttin doon the British industries wis the day bein Scottish started tae mean suttin again.

Wae aw the wonders oan this planet, aw we git tae admire is the dreary-lookin violated Lego sets the government pit up tae keep us contained in. Sure, the lads and lassies fae ma wey could see places further than the bus could take us tae.

But only if yae wur willin tae die fur queen or king and capitalism. “Here’s a rifle, son. Go oot and shoot someboady.”

Some ae us want maire than tae be a soldier ae fortune in someboady else’s war, though.

Or tae spend oor miserable existence sittin behind a desk punchin in someboady else’s cloack. Aw until oor time comes tae an end and wur left wonderin how it aw went sae wrong.

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Ma parents, though? Well, they kept faith in the system. And at the end ah hud tae watch ma dad slip awey wae lung cancer. Efter which ah hud tae sit and watch ma mum go cap in hand tae the social. Only tae be presented wae twinty quid as if it wis the golden ticket fae Willy Wonka himself. It wisnae long efter that ah hud ma hert broken again.

Then ma mum passed awey wae cardiac arrest. Least, that’s what the doactur telt us. But ah knew the real diagnosis wis that she died ae a broken hert. There wis nae grand monuments wae their names oan it. There wis only me.

But, in the end what defined their years oan this planet wis a piece ae paper tae say when they arrived and when they departed. That’s the workin class biography.

Realisin this changed ma ootlook oan life. Ah figured oot what gave the elite their power, eh? It wisnae their lands or titles. It wis their education. Ma weapon ae choice wisnae a rifle, it wis a library caird. It suddenly dawned oan me there’s nuttin maire dangerous in this country than a workin man wae a library caird who isnae afraid tae use it.

So, that’s the adventure ah embraked oan. Ah began spendin ma days in the library. And ah started tae become an imitator ae ma oppressor. Yae jist need tae look at the land ah come fae tae tell yae there’s nae future withoot action.

But the gid news is that here ah um wae ma very ain piece ae paper. An unconditional offer tae study sociology at uni. It’s yin that announces ah’m oan ma wey tae finally becomin a somebaody.

Jist imagine some dafty cawed Rishi wae aw his private education hinkin he’s the smartest boay in the room – only tae find me waitin tae show him the truth. That yae dinnae need generational wealth or Sky TV tae possess an intellect. And that aw yae need is a library caird.

But listen, who kens, eh? Ah might end bein an advisoer tae Swinney. Come tae hink ae it ah might even yin day run the hale show masel. What ah do ken fur sure though, eh? The world really is ma oyster.

Colin Burnett’s recently published novel titled Who’s Aldo? is available from good bookshops and Amazon.