David Belcher talks to DJ George Bowie whose defection has left his old employer in a spin

WHILE there's been much fevered media speculation about whichever DJ will soon succeed Zoe Ball as presenter of Radio 1's flagship Breakfast Show, one Scottish jock has already caused a storm in the daily serial which is Radio Clyde's own wake-up programme with an abrupt and premature exit.

For after three years spent entertaining West of Scotland early-

risers with such witty bon mots as ''Oi! You're a donkey!'' George Bowie is leaving Clyde 1 for nightlife entrepreneur Ron McCul- loch's new independent Central Belt radio venture, Beat 106. As befits its name, Beat 106 intends kicking off at 1.06pm on Friday. Bowie's new four-hour-long, five-day-a-week morning show will thus be unveiled at 6am next Monday.

Stunned by Bowie's sudden departure last week, Clyde's

bosses have been making repeated overtures to win him back. ''They've been trying to talk me out of it ever since,'' says Bowie, who's become used to fielding four pleading phone calls a day.

''I don't want to fall out with Clyde, and I won't slag them off. I want to leave on good terms. Who knows, we may end up working together again at some point.'' Having gone straight from school to Clyde as a 17-year-old 11 years ago, Bowie is genuine in his affection for the station.

Perhaps Clyde should have shown more in return.

Radiobiz insiders reckon that Bowie was the biggest act on Clyde's books in years, hinting

that the station's Breakfast Show

listening-figures have plummeted whenever he's been off on holiday. The same sources therefore express astonishment that Clyde didn't protect their asset by

golden-handcuffing him with

a contract.

Apparently there is also executive consternation around Clyde's HQ in Clydebank at the thought of all the dosh they've recently expended in creating a new set

of larger-than-lifesize publicity posters featuring Bowie and his Breakfast Show team. These were shortly intended to replace the ones currently adorning sundry Glasgow buses.

According to Bowie, Beat 106 is envisioned as appealing to ''a more credible, younger audience than Clyde's''. He adds: ''We won't be playing boy-band rubbish like Boyzone and Westlife. We won't play MOR stuff like M People and the Lighthouse Family.

''We're going to have dancey stuff, plus the better young bands like Travis, Ocean Colour Scene, and Stereophonics.''

It's not going to be easy winning an audience away from Clyde, though. Their listeners stick with the station through thick and thin, as Bowie is only too well aware.

''It's one of these bizarre Glasgow things. People seem set in their ways: they support the Old Firm, they vote Labour, and they listen to Clyde. It's a big challenge, but I wouldn't have taken it on if I didn't think I could do it, and especially when I could almost have had a job for life with Clyde.

''But there were things about the Clyde Breakfast Show that I began finding frustrating. It's a show that's principally about providing information, and I found our

travel reports turning into a joke.

''You'd have road reports from someone from the AA, followed by someone in a helicopter - or latterly a plane - and then someone on a motorbike. Inside 15 minutes, you'd be hearing three folk all talking about the same traffic hold-up.

''My Beat 106 show will let my personality breathe, because I reckon I am a personality rather than a music presenter. I talk about real life. I call it as I see it.

I'm honest. I say what I'm thinking. It's not: 'It's a beautiful day, everything's fine.'''

ALTHOUGH not going quite as far as his childhood

hero, the often outrageous Howard Stern - ''I'd hear him on family holidays to Florida and think: 'This is radio!''' - Bowie's new show will, he pledges, take things ''a step further''.

''To be honest, though, things have been so chaotic in the past few days that I'm not sure exactly what we'll be doing. I'm taking my Clyde producer, Ewan McMorrow, or Big Ish, with me, and we'll soon be sitting down to work it out. ''Another ex-Clyde pal, Gina McKie, is coming from Tay as my sidekick, and I've a new sports guy in mind, but I can't name any names just now.''

Bowie can name some big names with whom he's recently been liaising in his home

recording studio in Kilbarchan.

''Working live as a DJ in clubs has always been important to me,'' says Bowie, a Friday-night turntabular staple of Glasgow's Temple. ''I'm into mixing and the whole clubbing vibe. I'm not a bloke who turns up in a place for an hour and says: 'Hi, I'm the guy off the radio - who wants a T-shirt?'''

Such is Bowie's mixing prow- ess, in fact, that he has been called upon to re-work a new issue of Rosie Gaines's hit Closer Than Close, while he is currently awaiting an official verdict on his

re-vibing of Frankie Goes To

Hollywood's Two Tribes.

In addition, Bowie's wife, Ellen, has caught the mixing

bug, working under the nom du

knob-twiddle Her Indoors, while Bowie himself is close to having completed his own dance album, crafted with a former member

of TTF.

As the son of Glasgow clubland impresario Ross Bowie, George was always destined for the showbiz life. He started off as a kid messing about with CB radio. Then he became a clubland DJ. Then he progressed from hosting a five-hour through-the-night Clyde show to helming their morning flagship.

And if Clyde's overseers don't want to be reminded of what they've lost by re-tuning to

106FM, they should also avoid looking at Glasgow buses for the next few weeks, too.