Britain’s honours system has long been a lightning rod for cynicism – a relic of empire, a reward for privilege. Yet when true heroes like Normandy veteran Mervin Kersh and campaigner Betty Brown beam with pride, it’s hard to dismiss the value these awards still hold, says Kevin McKenna

You always run the risk of disparaging your loving (and exemplary) parents when daring to quote the opening stanza of ‘This be the Verse’ by Philip Larkin.

“They f*** you up, your mum and dad.

They do not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had.

And add some extra just for you.”

For the record: my faults are all entirely my own and have little to do with dodgy parenting. That said, it’s Mr Larkin’s “some extra” that’s insinuated itself into my existence.

I was barely out of primary school, for instance, when my dad had railed against Britain’s honours system. And not because he was morally and ethically opposed to patronage or that they were conferred in the name of an empire built by slavery, theft and violent conquest. It was much more visceral and immediate than that.

He’d been outraged that Jock Stein (who was held to be blessed in my family) had only been elevated to Commander of the British Empire rather than knighted. The legendary Celtic manager’s near-miraculous feat of transforming a team previously regarded as West of Scotland journeymen into the best in Europe will never be matched. My dad believed that Sir Jock of Burnbank was the only fitting ennoblement to recognise his feats.

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That he was only awarded the lower order in the British establishment’s honours system, my dad felt was due to the perfidy of Britain’s security forces and the ruling establishment. Instead, the Brits........

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