''Oddballs, extremists, and out-and-out racists'' was the phrase which got Susan Dalgety into trouble and forced her to issue an apology. Susan is, like myself, a part-time columnist. Her day job is deputy leader of Edinburgh City Council and, in the course of an article on the evils of nationalism, her less-than-flattering description of some SNP activists she had encountered on the hustings was ''a mean, nasty, brutish pack''.

As unflattering descriptions go, I thought it somewhat mild. Perhaps in the East of Scotland such pejorative terms are regarded with distaste. Here in the West our letters editor sees much worse most days of the week. Had Ms Dalgety called me these things, it would have looked pretty tame compared with many of the epithets which I have collected over the years on this page (such as ''snake in the grass'', ''disgrace to the ministry'', ''racist'') - and these were just the ones from fellow ministers of the Kirk.

Immunity to such venom comes not so much from being a hard-

bitten journalist, as being a hard-

bitten minister. To explain why this is, I have to reveal the shocking secret that it is not simply in the backbiting world of politics that oddballs, extremists, and brutes are to be found. I hope it does not come as too much of a surprise that one or two may even be elders of the Kirk.

I should immediately point out such characters are a tiny minority among the 45,000 elders, but to pretend they have no significance would be inaccurate to say the least. Their significance is not in numbers but in their capacity to poison a meeting by introducing contentious matter or by making personal attacks on the minister.

Such behaviour on the football field would quickly earn a red card, but no such remedy exists in the Church. There is, of course, a ''discipline'' process but this quasi-

judicial way of dealing with bad behaviour is complicated, time-consuming, and generally regarded as a last resort. It is also meat and drink to those whose currency is blame, denunciation, and recrimination. If they lose, as they usually do, they are then able to start a new career as a martyr who has suffered an injustice. Most Churches simply let the square peg dig a large hole for himself. One minister with 30 years' experience told me recently: ''Oh, we all have them. But everyone knows who they are and no-one pays any attention to them.'' His verdict may be wise but contains the implication that such individuals are simply to be regarded as part of the job - thorns in the flesh, or the Kirk equivalent of the bed of nails.

One possible solution is for the other elders to make it clear that they will not suffer these outbursts any longer. This is easier said than done, since it requires gentle and easy-going people to risk being denounced and vilified themselves for having dared to interfere. If you had witnessed the nasty, mean, and brutish behaviour of which some people are capable behind the closed doors of church meetings, you would realise why considerable courage is needed to grasp such prickly thistles.

This requires ministers to keep their cool. If they lose it, they will immediately forfeit the tolerance which is extended to the dissident. It is not a very satisfactory state of affairs, if it is indeed as widespread as I believe it to be, based upon private conversations with colleagues.

Of course, there is the other side of the coin - the oddball or the extremist who is a minister. He or she can be removed, but not before inflicting considerable damage on the congregation. Yet even this power to fire miscreant ministers is not certain. Otherwise why would the Kirk be having to defend its independent jurisdiction next week at an industrial tribunal in the latest chapter in the lurid saga of the Rev Helen Percy? The picture I have painted is not a pretty one, but alas it is pretty accurate. Thankfully, it is not the whole picture. A glossy booklet, Good News - for a change, thudded through my letterbox this week. Published by three of the Kirk's main boards, it highlights successful projects in churches across Scotland, many in areas of limited resources. It is only a fraction of the charity - in all senses of the word - which churches of all denominations are providing within

society, and gives a much more favourable profile of religion in our land.

Why then, these bilious outbursts at church meetings? One theory is that society is becoming more aggressive and stress-ridden, eg road rage, attacks on doctors by patients, and the latest version, ''air rage''. It is, therefore, no surprise to find an ecclesiastical equivalent. Let's call it ''pew rage''.

The other theory declares that this is not a new phenomenon (pace Jenny Geddes). Scotland has long exhibited what Michael Fry this week called ''Caledonian anti-

syzygy'', a word derived from being out of line and influenced by the moon. He illustrated it by the cheers for Sir Walter Scott from ordinary Scots which turned to jeers so quickly. Personally I think there is much to be said for both theories. To avoid giving offence, instead of writing about ecclesiastical oddballs, or pew rage, in future I'll call it anti-syzygy.