MY monosyllabic old mucker Stephen only really came alive after a few pints, the acrid elixer of Tennent’s enriching him with the warmth, wit and unguarded honesty he lacked sober.

Spaghetti-legged and full of fraudulent confidence one night, Stephen decided to let me in on a wee secret – he was the reincarnation of John Lennon. After reminding him he was born several years before the Beatles legend actually died, he became quite indignant – he was John Lennon. And I was an a******e. Only one of his claims could be provable in a court of law.

As far as I’m aware, Stephen hasn’t yet managed to change the world with populist tunesmithery or incisive displays of laconic sarcasm. I’ve no idea if he still adheres to his rather niche belief system either, but after learning that an “Outlander: The Past Lives Experience” exists in Inverness, Stephen struck me as the perfect target audience for such an outré business venture.

Not only would he witness the stunning Highland locations that helped make the turgid Outlander much less torturous, but “hypnotist guide” Diane Nicolson could also, assumedly, help Stephen clarify his adolescent suspicions.

Cannily incorporating past-life regression into Culloden walking tours, Diane and husband Andrew claim the TV series’ fans can now “explore potential past-life connections with Scotland and their soul-mate connections”. As, eh, outlandish as this sounds, the Outlander: Past Lives Experience is extremely popular – especially among American tourists wishing to explore their Scottish ‘heritage’ - and this walking tour’s genuinely unique selling point will no doubt soon be cloned by countless copycat ventures aiming to monetise hope and naivety.

Prudent minds will have already concluded this inspired mash-up of battlefield tours and past life regression heralds a lucrative new tax revenue stream for Scotland, a country with unlimited potential for such unholy hybrids, strewn with somber sites of historic horror. So instead of proudly boasting about our illustrious past to tourists, convincing them they were actually part of it too might serve to secure our future economic prosperity and have reincarnation proudly ranking alongside oil, whisky and salmon in the next SNP White Paper. Especially if we tax Diane and Andrew for all their past lives too. 

Like most successful entrepreneurs, the couple’s ambitions were fuelled by personal passion. Diane is convinced she was a 18th-century Jacobite warrior – coincidentally, of course, cut from a very similar gib as popular Outlander character Jamie Fraser. Diane also believes she and hubby Andrew were married in a past life – the only difference being he was a woman then.

Any concerns over the lack of an appropriately mystical gender sign on public toilets for Andrew fade with one glimpse at the big fella, confirming there’s little of his former self left. Hulking head to toe in full shortbread tin Jacobite garb, a wee theatrical scowl peeks out behind an explosion of facial hair. You’d imagine any passing Yoons risk his wee plastic sword being waved at them.

Was Max mad?

SCIENTIST Max Planck, much-lauded midwife to the wild weirdness of quantum physics, believed consciousness was the universe’s fundamental element and that all matter derived from it.

The rough gist of his musings certainly foreshadowed the mathematical swoon of string theory, which poetically describes all matter being formed by the musical vibrations of minuscule “strings”. These can’t be bought at Victor Morris – rather, they are the “guts” of quarks and leptons, the fundamental building blocks at the root of everything our eyes can perceive.

If our bodies are simply just the music of our minds, then it must mean we once had an “essence” in the ether, waiting billions of years for evolution so we could invent money, religion and crippling social hierarchies. More importantly, it would also mean that consciousness is not dependent on a brain.

This notion sparked the interest of another respected scientist – the late astrophysicist Carl Sagan, who caused shockwaves among his peers by suggesting children claiming to be reincarnated deserved further study in his magisterial book The Demon-Haunted World. 

Dedicating 10 years of his (present) life to such endeavour at the University of Virginia is Dr James Tucker. Despite compiling more than 2,500 cases on the subject of reincarnation, however, Tucker is still not 100% sold – simply describing his work as “quite compelling”.

Plastic pollution

ONE of Dr Tucker’s highest-profile studies was that of wee James Leininger from Louisiana, a three-year-old who seemed to be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after recalling details of his fiery death as a Second World War pilot.

Although a potential “match” was found, it was later revealed that the lad had been obsessed with toy aircraft – and, vitally, the plane he remembered was not actually on the victim’s aircraft carrier. Proving, perhaps, that plastic depictions of weaponry can be more a threat to the developing minds of children than iPads.

If wee James’s imaginative story had checked out, however, would this then prove reincarnation? Well, researchers would likely have never considered the possibility James may have travelled back in time and watched the crash for himself. Or that the ghost of the pilot materialised in his bedroom to bore him with his life story. Mibbie the wee man had the information implanted in his head during an alien abduction or even left his body and astral travelled to chat with the pilot in Heaven.

Such unlikely scenarios are certainly no less credible than the notion we have an eternal soul that quantum leaps through a neverending supply of bodies. Yet, somehow, reincarnation manages to retain a validity that other bizarre supernatural explanations just lack.

Other than wishful thinking, it’s difficult to see why. The evidence for reincarnation simply cannot hold up to any objective scrutiny. Hypnotism, for example, is certainly not a valid process of obtaining information. It is a highly subjective rummage around the subconscious that’s capable of sparking false memories and mental illness.

Similarly, accounts from children cannot be taken as proof. Not only because of the subjective nature of memory but because of positive reinforcement by researchers – who more often than not are already believers. Physical quirks such as odd birthmarks are also easily accounted for by natural explanations. Like Columbo said, many pieces of bad evidence do not equal one piece of good.

Perhaps it’s best we never prove reincarnation, however. Certainly, you wouldn’t live long enough to finish an autobiography. No doubt it would also prove lucrative for ancestory.com, who might be able to track what types of dinosaur we once were. Yet, it’s also inevitable the Government would begin mass soul profiling – holding us all accountable for past misdemeanours.

On a positive note, it’s also possible we could inherit great fortunes procured in former lives.You can’t take it with you, but perhaps the wealthy elite would choose to fly en masse to Dignitas, their eternal souls chilling out in the afterlife’s executive lounge as their Earthly riches accumulate vast interest. Yes, even death might not stop the rich getting richer.

And finally ...

THE First Law of Thermodynamics states any energy in the universe cannot be created or destroyed, but simply changes form. To believers in reincarnation, this proves we were all once amoebas, dinosaurs or, perhaps, gaseous blobs floating in acidic clouds on distant planets.

All highly unlikely, of course, but scientists do not always dismiss the notion of a separate mind and body out of hand. Planck’s theory that consciousness came before the visible universe might initially seem supportive of true believers, but proves problematic under closer scrutiny.

Although Planck suggests we are simply part of a single eternal energy source that has since splintered into all biological matter, he leaves the possibility – strap yourself in – that this “God” has actually not fragmented.

Perhaps, free from the constraints of spacetime, this consciousness can fully inhabit every single creature in the universe at the same time, simultaneously experiencing all possible perceptions of its wondrous creation.

And if just one “soul” exists, it also means Stephen really was John Lennon. And so was I. And you. Yet, ultimately, we're all God. As Lennon himself once sang, “I am you and you are me and we are all together”. Hopefully tourists at the Outlander: Past Lives Experience kept their receipts.

Follow Bill on twitter: click @futureshockbb