He may seem a fairly unlikely rebel against financial orthodoxy, but David Low has something of a track record.

The accountant and financial adviser orchestrated the uprising which bulleted the seemingly untouchable families who owned Celtic, but through the ballot, the preferred method of corporate execution.

Now, after taking Paradise, as the worshippers call the football shrine in Glasgow's east end, he is pioneering a new currency - the Scotcoin.

It exists only in the digital heavens, but is just as real a way of paying for goods as the folding stuff – available now, it cuts out all of those who normally profit between buyer and seller.

It has similarities with the Celtic campaign where he won thousands of share proxies from small shareholders throughout the world and, with the financial clout of Fergus McCann, the bunneted wee expatriate Scot from Canada he allied with, managed to overthrow the Celtic regime.

Here he is trying to persuade retailers, financial institutions and, most importantly, ordinary people to take up digital currency. This is Low's present crusade.

The way he tells it is that he became intensely frustrated in the independence referendum debate over the SNP's determination to cling to the pound, which he believed was economic illiteracy and political suicide.

“Here's me, a guy who makes money out of the system,” he says “and I basically latched onto the currency issue, the single biggest thing which lost the referendum.

"An independent Scotland must have its own currency, for better or for worse.

"In the middle of it I thought digital currencies are here to stay - so let's get our hands on a Scottish one.”

Low is a shrewd, calculating financial operator who has made a pile of money backing his judgments.

He owns the Glasgow Rocks professional basketball franchise, the Arlington Bar in the nation's largest city and handles the investments of a parcel of the country's wealthiest people. Both of them are already accepting Scotcoins as payment, proof of concept that his currency vision actually works.

“Once I got my head straight. I thought I'm going to do a cryptocurrency. And then I found out there was one on offer.”

The Scotcoin. Low and his partner Temple Melville bought it lock, stock, intellectual property, trademarks and all, although they won't disclose the price.

The creator of Scotcoin, Derek Nisbet, created a finite amount of the digital coins, a billion of them that could never be increased. So no quantitive easing.

Prior to the referendum those who had bought into it were, Low says, either “big Nats or big Nat geeks”. He is neither.

But he had spied an opportunity.

According to Low, Nisbet couldn't take the project any further. “He didn't know what to do with it. I did.”

He continues: “I didn't look at it as an answer to Scotland's currency but as a complement. I never saw it as the panacea, but in the way that a credit card is a complement to cash – except here there were no middle men.” No one, in his words, taking 'clips'.

What he was banking on was the profit he could make if the value of the coins increased. “So we bought all the Scotcoins that he had, about 600 million of them.”

The engine driving cryptocurrencies, like the Scotcoin, is the blockchain – a kind of highly-secure fiscal Facebook, or a digital bureau de change – where people buy and sell the coins, through exchanges, digital dealing rooms, where all of their information is encrypted.

They deal directly with each other, with no intermediaries taking, in Low's description, a clip.

“The blockchain is just a more efficient way of buying,” he maintains. “The people that presently administer the conventional chains get sh**loads of money.

"Everyone who partakes in the chain gets a clip. There's always a bookkeeper. Think of him on a high chair with a quill pen and a ledger, taking your name out and mine in. That hasn't really changed since time began.

“Now the owners of the assets in the ledger can speak to each other in an online exchange where assets are listed 24/7, 365 days a year. It's a stock exchange which never shuts. You can buy and sell instantaneously. You can do that now with share dealing but here no one is taking a share, a clip, because there is no middle man - be it Mark Carney of the Bank of England, the Fed, whoever - and no commission. It's an encrypted method of updating a ledger.”

In his normal business Low is, in his description, a ‘clipper’ but he is withering about the financial system. “Why would anyone trust the banking system.

"The banking system is corrupt, the banking system hasn't changed in 300 years, it's still run by the elite. Every link in the banking chain from the central bank down, someone is taking a cut, someone is taking a margin, everyone is taking a clip.

“The western economy is bankrupt, financed by the electronic printing of money, which Carney is using to buy debt off the people, the banks, the people who created the problem in the first place. It doesn't filter down. It just circulates among the elite, it doesn't filter down to the people who didn't cause the problem, the people who are bearing the brunt of austerity. They are paying the price of the people who actually caused the problem.

"And the people who caused the problem are solving the problem not with their own money but money given to them in newly-created electronic money by the Bank of England.”

There is no central bank propping up cryptocurrencies and, Low admits, it's a maelstrom, the new Wild West.

His regular business is regulated by the Financial Conduct Authority and he believes that as the use of digital money grows it will come under a regulator and those in the blockchain will have to register and be identified.

“There are reckoned to be no more than 5000 people in the whole world that have a detailed knowledge of it," says Low. "That is so tiny but it also an opportunity because there is such a real technology that that number will mushroom in the next few years.”