Australia is - and always has been - full of Scots.

From Big John, the bloke in my local bottle shop (that's off licence to you) to Heather, a young Paisley backpacker who makes the best latte in Melbourne.

From Shetland Sue who teaches in a tough outer-suburb school and fascinates her students telling them stories about The Peerie Cat, to Ped from Yoker who won the speed marijuana joint rolling competition at the annual Nimbin mardi-grass three years on the trot.

From a seriously unpleasant bloke we'll call Mad-Dog Dunky I came across in Grafton jail to a pissed-up guy hurling highly personal abuse at his partner outside my house last Saturday night, they're - we're - everywhere.

Historically, Scots have played a massive part in establishing and forming what is still, in world-wide terms, a young nation.

There's Lachlan McQuarrie, the Mull bureaucrat who ran the early colony of New South Wales expertly and unstintingly in the best interests of the British crown, a legacy which - inexplicably - still afflicts monarchy loving Australia today.

There's Eddie McGuire, a Bellshill-born media mover and shaker who's so ubiquitous and undoubtedly influential he's known nationally as 'Everywhere Ed'.

Keith Murdoch - Rupert's dad. Right wing Prime Minister Robert Menzies, 'Alf' from 'Home and Away (yes really) and of course, Bob Malcolm, possibly the biggest dumpling ever to miskick a football.

See, we're not all great guys, you know. We have our ratbags, diddies, chancers and born-again bam pots, same as anybody else.

The thing is though, they're our ratbags, diddies, chancers and bam pots. Jock Tamson's Bams, you might say.

The mark we make isn't always great. But it's always - in a strange way - intrinsically Scottish.

Who's the daddy of them all? Who deserves to be voted the most important Scot in Oz history, the one who best encapsulates both the essential nature of Scottishness and that of the adopted country he helped shape?

One man. The Man. Born in Forfar in 1946, he emigrated with his parents, a snotty-nosed nine-year-old. From these undoubtedly humble roots, he rose to become a massive success.

Well, let's say a massive tragic success. It didn't end well. It couldn't. But nevertheless, I'm prepared to argue that drink-addled Bon Scott, the skinny-jeaned, bare-chested front man of AC/DC - AccaDacca as they're known here - is the bloke who ticks all the right boxes.

A bloke - The Bloke - who helped give Australia attitude. An immortal. He's dead now of course, but then, immortals always are.

Was Bon a great singer? Probably not. Oh, he could shout out a tune but let's face it, he was hardly Otis Redding. In fact, Bon's voice is so indistinctive the bloke who replaced him sounds equally homogenous and only an expert can readily identify which is which.

Bon was a showman, though. A front man. THE front man. A mix of gallusness, self-confidence, distinct mad mental-ness, sustained risk-taking behaviour and more than a bit of seriously piss-poor judgment.

He wasn't perfect, Bon. But he was brilliant. It's now 34 years since Bon died - choked on vomit, you'll recall - but the legend lives on. Here in Australia, AC/DC are a band with almost no denigrators. Everybody loves them.

Mention Bon's name at a party and Aussies of all backgrounds and (to an extent) ages, smile at the memory.

Costas, a Greek Aussie my age who told me he'd been there since the start tells this story.

Bon was hammered apparently - seems he nearly always was - a big bottle of voddie by his side, long hair, skinny body, challenging punters to fight and delivering an electric performance full of excitement, danger and - more than anything else - pure bliss.

Rock and roll, in other words.

Even young Australian music fans acknowledge and respect Bon's contribution and influence, seeing them as seminal, in the same way American rock'n'roll celebrates Elvis.

Bon as Australia's Elvis? Going too far? Maybe. But Bon was magic. Not necessarily for what he did, but how he did it. And the fact that he did it at all.

It's been a strange year for an ex-patriate Scot. I can't say I wasn't disappointed about the outcome of the referendum, but I wasn't really surprised either.

So we don't have the politics, but I'll tell you what we do have. The identity. A distinct culture. We're recognisably and accepted as a nation, a people, world-wide.

We're respected - by and large; afforded opportunity; we're popular, even. A proud nation. Warm, friendly and innovative, complicated, interesting and esoteric.

We're not perfect - no one is - but by and large our influence has been positive and certainly here in Oz at least, has been a serious player in the development of what is Australia. After all, we gave Australia (and the world) Bon Scott.

Bon wasn't perfect but he was someone whose contribution was crucial. And unquestionably well worth celebrating.

Toast his memory by digging out the album Let There be Rock and blasting Whole Lotta Rosie full volume.

All in all, it's safer than having a drink.