Fancy a gasper, Ronaldo? Certainly, Rod

go out to Rod Stewart, the artist formerly known as really quite a good turn in those heady days of long ago when platters were made of vinyl and cost a penny less than 30 bob.

Rod was at his best in the seventies when no respectable record collection could be considered complete without all the Faces albums and his first five solo efforts (yes, even Smiler). But then came that awful Sailing song and things went to pigs and whistles. In terms of music, he's pretty much an embarrassment nowadays. And he looks like an ageing roue.

However, current reports would tend to suggest that the 53-year-old singer, who might technically come from Brentford but who, if you cut him, bleeds a particularly garish tartan, has been signed up by Scotland for what you might call ''special duties'' in the run-up to the World

Cup in France.

If that is the case then, a full four weeks before the first kick at the ba', his mission would appear to be well on the road to success. The theory is this: In a spirit of selfless goodwill, Scotland has put Rod Stewart out on loan to England and charged him with the task of ensuring that their man-boy soccer star, Paul Gascoigne, is at the very peak of physical and mental fitness for the forthcoming tournament.

To this end, the ageing rocker was photographed while out on the skite - sorry, on a rigorous exercise run - with yer man Gazza round London's Soho at the weekend. According to certain sections of the tabloid press,

it was very much a game of two halves. Or three. Or four. Or so many you lose count and fall over. It was also a game of 20 fags. Not to mention a game of kebab and chips at 1.30 in the morning.

A (Scottish) doctor writes: ''This is the perfect training regime for a player of Gascoigne's calibre. Recent medical research suggests that, contrary to previous thoughts on the subject, a gutful of lager is actually of significant beneficial effect to a sportsman.

''And it is generally accepted now that ciggies, when taken in moderation (anything up to 40 a day), can actually increase not only a footballer's stamina, but also his lung power. In Gazza's case, I would suggest Capstan Full-Strength. Okay, in the fullness of time he might have to have a leg amputated but that is a small price to pay, surely, for sporting fame and fortune. Finally, what can I say about kebab and chips? A meal which delivers all the necessary dietary requirements and much more - provided, of course, it is combined with a fry-up of sausage, bacon, fried bread, and egg at least once a day. Oh, and a huge tub of fat-free yogurt.''

Yes, thanks to Rod Stewart, there can now be no complaints about Paul Gascoigne's mental and physical preparations for the World Cup finals. At least, not if you're a Scottish fan. For, let's face it, so far as the Tartan Army is concerned, winning our own games is only half the pleasure. England getting gubbed is the other half. A fat, wheezing, hungover, Gazza struggling to keep up with his team-mates when they take to the field against Tunisia on June 15 would be a great joy to behold.

Stewart, reports claimed yesterday, is now feeling a tad guilty for leading Gascoigne astray. Well, not to worry, Rod. You shouldn't blame yourself. In fact, it's just a shame that you don't have any Brazilian buddies to entertain of an evening.

''Fancy a gasper, Ronaldo?''

''Don't mind if I do, Rod.''

''Another beer, Romario?''

''No thanks, mate. Ten pints is more than enough for me.''

And so to another ageing rock star making the news this week. Keith Richards used to be the wild man of rock and, even at the age of 54, I thought he still was. How wrong can you be?

After the best part of 30 years of body abuse, drinking like a fish, and filling himself with all sort of illegal substances, Keef has finally been laid up in hospital. Liver disease? An overdose? Heart attack? Electric shock from a dodgy lead on his Fender Stratocaster? No. Unfortunately for his

little remaining street cred, the ailment is far more mundane. The old codger broke a rib when he fell off a ladder while stretching for a book on the top shelf of the wall-to-wall library in his Connecticut mansion. And now, with their ace axeman on the panel, it looks as if the Stones are going to be forced to rearrange at least some of the dates on the European end of their Bridges To Babylon tour.

Hope I die before I get old? Yeah, sure, but not from dropping, er, like a Stone while searching high and low for a book at bedtime. A case, perhaps, of how the mighty have fallen. Still, you have to have some sympathy for the old devil.