Irish eyes are smiling on Glasgow

So, if players now want clothes, loans, houses sold, cheap electricity, photo copies, sports goods, or warm underpants, they can go to the sponsors. Or, if they really want, they can build their very own Buchanan Street centre with O'Rourke's.

Irish sponsors? To be sure, to be sure.

q Diary spies are ever vigilant, and one has told us that, in the SRU's shop at Murrayfield, there is a book called ''Will Carling's Dream Team.'' Said book has been reduced from #7.99 to 50p. There is no truth in the rumour that Edinburgh are going to try to buy the team.

q It was an education to go down to Newcastle at the weekend for their match with Edinburgh and see big-time English rugby. Not only were the ticket prices a little steep - John Jeffrey stated that his cost #17.50 - but the obvious signs of money consciousness were everywhere.

Eagle-eyed rugby fans will have noticed a high-tech games machine, or puggy as we might call it up here, outside Rob Andrew's office at the Kingston Park headquarters. A strange machine it was too, with one button alarmingly named: ''Sell Player.''

We are not sure if this was a standard amusement arcade game or a threat to the players, or indeed essential rehearsal before buying Will Carling's book.

q alarmingly Scotsport, that bastion of central-belt soccer, has been filming a trail for their programme at New Anniesland, the home of class rugby in the real capital, namely this green and verdant place called Glasgow.

The idea was, apparently, to have some armchairs, empty armchairs, in the baths at the ground, playing on the theme that you can watch anywhere. Unless you live in outlying regions that is.

So it is with some luvvy darling luck that we can inform you that our very own man at New Anniesland, barman John Rodgers, was once an actor himself and is perfectly at home in the limelight. He has been an extra in films and TV programmes, once having a speaking part.

I quizzed him on the speaking part. It was Taggart, he says. And there was only one line he uttered in the episode. It was: ''That's enough of that.'' Which can be loosely translated as get the heck out of my bathroom.

q You have to start them young. Rugby players are very fit, highly trained athletes, so it is with some surprise that we can tell you that when the Caledonia Reds' players were training in Perth recently, and their supply of water in fancy sponsored bottles was nicked by some little lads from the local scheme who had come down to watch, the lads got away Scot-free after a chase.

This was despite, we are told, Rob Wainwright shouting to the boys in an army tone of voice to come back, and some of the front row forwards snarling. Jim Telfer has put all of the little boys on part-time rugby contracts with the Caledonia Reds. ''We are building for the future,'' said Telfer. Only joking, only joking.

q It is, perhaps, one of the greatest enigmas of the world that Jessie Rae never takes that helmet off, and is perpetually seen in Scottish regalia. Is he actually John Jeffrey? Or is he Hazel Irvine, Bill Hogg, or maybe even Chick Young?

His fellow recording star, Stewart ''Axeman'' Campbell, says it is an advantage with the great man as what you see is what you get. Axeman travelled down to St Boswells on a regular basis to put the finishing touches to their latest CD, and was once driving down there and called ahead to speak to Jessie, only to be told that the man himself was out for a jog. He is very fit.

Axeman then accelerated as best he could in his gorgeous sponsored BMW, scoured the Borders by roads in the hope of glimpsing Jessie out running without helmet, but got there just too late.

''I was really disappointed,'' said Campbell. ''I was just too late.'' Jessie was in the shower. Scrubbing his helmet of course.