THE latest revelation of indignity suffered by prisoners at Barlinnie is the underpants lottery. After a lengthy investigation of life in Glasgow's busiest B&B, Dr Andrew McLellan, Scotland's chief inspector of prisons, declared that the jail-issue nether garments were not up to scratch. He said: "The underwear might fit or it might not fit. It might be stained or it might not. We have seen underwear which has been washed but I wouldn't call it clean."

As a poor child from a poor family, I can sympathise with people who have to inherit underwear. It can be quite embarrassing changing for gym when you're wearing your big sister's knickers and liberty bodice.

But let's not overdo the sympathy. If the clients at the Big Hoose can't stand the grime, they shouldn't do the crime. Their inconvenience is of scant concern to the law-abiding section of society. The last thing on the mind of a family who have lost a loved one through a stabbing or other vicious attack is that the perpetrator may not have been issued with adequate pants.

The prospect of having to wear kecks upon which a previous owner has left his mark should act as a deterrent to your average offender. When it comes to sentencing in the courtroom, the judge can affect a serious mien and intone: "You will be taken to a place of incarceration and humiliation where you will be issued with ill- fitting underwear for the rest of your natural life."

There will be some lifer-turned-lawyer already working away in a prison library researching what the rules are for prison-issue Y-fronts as set out in the Geneva Convention and the Human Rights Act 1998. It will not be long before Lord Bonomy, the man who awarded compensation to prisoners who had to slop out, will pronounce that forced wearing of sub-standard skivvies does indeed damage human rights and human dignity and causes feelings of anxiety, anguish, inferiority and humiliation. It is clear that the government must act to end this unmentionable practice. If not to prevent trauma among inmates, at least to avoid having to pay thousands of pounds from the public purse in damages to ex-cons.

It should not be difficult to institute an effective and equitable regime for the changing of underwear. Once a week, A Hall can change with B Hall, and C Hall with D Hall. Or, the authorities could easily ordain that underclothes are a matter for individual prisoners. Prison-issue drawers will be withdrawn. Inmates can go commando or provide their own.

A market in boxer and jockey shorts would quickly be established inside. I imagine the rate of exchange would eventually settle at two pairs of Calvin Kleins to a 50g packet of Golden Virginia. The laundering of these small necessities should not be a problem. If the Buffer can cope with the freshening-up of his undergarments whilst avoiding laundry charges at hotels, the guests at the Ruchazie Hilton can do likewise.

But enough of the short-comings of the underwear provision at the Bar L (in any case, we are running out of suitable synonyms and we don't want to resort to such slang terms as undercrackers).

The problem of overcrowding is much more pressing. Although, again, victims of violence may not be overly-exercised by the fact their attacker is now sharing a cell with a bigger brute. The chief inspector of gaols (I love that spelling, very Oscar Wilde) warns that Barlinnie, with 1500 inmates, is running at 50% over capacity. At least 150 of these are locked up for failure to pay fines of less than £300.

There are too many people in our prisons. Many of them could do their time in the community. They could be restricted, tagged, curfewed but not banged up at great expense. They would have to carry out public works for no pay. Taking in washing from Barlinnie prisoners might be a start. Other appropriate punishments could include making offenders attend football matches at Firhill on a regular basis.

Community service would not be an option for the aforementioned men of violence. But those guilty of a spot of petty theft or credit card fraud can be found a place in society. With their skills in generally relieving others of their cash, they could easily be found positions in any of the big clearing banks.

AS a regular visitor to Spain, I have learnt that there is little point in changing your watch because you are in a different time zone. Technically speaking, Spain is an hour ahead. In reality, most people over there, including Brits who have gone native, run at least an hour behind. If you have a luncheon appointment, take a good book or turn up 65 minutes late.

It is said that the mañana culture of no urgency prevails in all Hispanic countries. The Peruvian government is anxious to lose the nation's reputation for unpunctuality and has launched a campaign called "la hora sin demora", or "time without delay".

You will have noticed that demora rhymes with the Glaswegian word for mañana. As a Glasgow chap whose philosophy is there's nae borra wi demora since there's always ramorra, I find it hard to take the Peruvian initiative seriously.

The president, Alan Garcia, is a stickler for punctuality and thinks his countrymen's poor timekeeping puts off foreign investors. As part of the campaign, sirens will wail and church bells ring out at noon to remind Peruvians to set their watches to official government time. At least the noise is going on at midday and not later in the afternoon when it would interrupt the siesta.

It will be a sad day if our Hispanic cousins start to pay attention to the clock. We can safely leave this sort of obsessive behaviour to the Germans. I was once called upon in the line of duty to go to Duisburg to sample the products of the Koenig brewery. The itinerary was organised with military precision.

Unfortunately, the bevy (which is I believe very nearly the correct collective noun) of Scottish journalists refused to co-operate with the German efficiency. Us hacks were unmoved, as we stood at the free bar, to be confronted by a distraught brewery official. He could not cope with the fact that his timetable had slipped. He admonished: "It states clearly on your programme that the taxis leave for the restaurant at 7pm. It is already 7.03pm and you are all still in the bar."

Our German should have known that the gentlemen of the Scottish press are well-known for their Spanish practices.

YOU will have noticed that the banks are generously passing on a small slice of their humungous profits to staff. Workers at HBOS are to receive £7500 each in bonuses and share options.

Money does not grow on trees, of course. To finance the windfall every bank worker will have to have sent out every working day a letter fining a customer for exceeding an overdraft limit (£28 a pop) or for having insufficient funds (that will be £39, thank you). If you have a friend who works in a bank, you can cut out the middle-man and simply slip them a few £20 notes next time you see them.

THE Tories of Middle England claimed that the town of Corby had lost jobs because it was "too white and too British".

They cited as proof a letter from a senior Home Office official explaining that 80 prison service admin posts were being switched to Leicester as part of a drive to recruit more ethnic minorities. Corby's population is apparently 93.7% white British compared to 57.6% in Leicester.

The complainers failed to spot that the jobs transfer is a slight against another minority. Nearly 20% of Corbyites are Scottish and a further 40% are of Scottish descent. Scots moved to the steelworks of Corby in the Hungry Thirties. In the not-so-hungry 21st century, the place is still wall-to-wall Lorne sausages and mutton pies.

So who is going to stand up for the rights of the Scots minority in England? Probably not Gordon Brown.