LIKE all political parties, the Liberal Democrats suffer from the

men-in-suits factor. Not to mention the men in sandals. (Damn, we had

promised ourselves not to mention the sandals image of the Liberals.)

A perfect antidote to all this, therefore, at the Lib-Dem conference

in Glasgow is Clare Hamblen of Bearsden. At 21, she is the youngest

councillor in Scotland.

She is also one of the stars of a politics spread in Cosmopolitan. In

Cosmospeak, Clare, left, is an apparat-chick, a party girl, one of a new

generation of young people who have embraced politics because they are

tired of the way the aforementioned suits are ruining the country.

In real life, Clare is a student nurse who has spoken at party

conferences on pay issues and is contributing to the Lib-Dem manifesto

on health policy. Clare would disagree with the statement that the suits

are in charge of her party: ''In the Scottish Liberal Democrats there's

a great deal of participation. Young people and women don't feel left

out.''

Being Cosmopolitan ''party animal'', Clare, who is a comely lass, had

to get her party frock on for a photo-shoot. For those into matters

sartorial as well psephological, the black velvet dress was from

Littlewoods catalogue and the vote-for-me-quick shoes from Kurt Geiger.

Quote quotas

WE mentioned yesterday Lib-Dem president Bob Maclennan's impressive

list of literary and cultural references in his speech to conference --

from Debussy to Dantan via E M Forster. His leader, Paddy Ashdown, while

much more Churchillian in demeanour, had a meagre sprinkling.

Archimedes, Bertold Brecht, Mel Gibson in a reference to brave hearts,

Frank Bruno, and Rex Knapper.

The Bruno quote was: ''Look who's champion now! Know what I mean,

'Arry?'' Rex Knapper is an obscure but honourable Conservative

councillor from the south coast of England. We mention him simply

because we feel his splendid cognomen should not go unrecorded.

Policy of prudence

WE'RE not saying that Jim Wallace, leader of the Scots Lib Dems, has a

reputation for being careful with his bawbees but during the annual

conference pass-the-hat fund-raising session the chap who was trying to

wring cash, cheques, and promissory notes from the assembled ranks said

he was looking forward to receiving Jim's donation in ''pounds Scots''.

The current exchange rate is about #8 sterling for #100 Scots.

* STILL on matters fiscal, a party of Lib Dems, dining in the Cantina

del Rey mexican restaurant in King Street, Glasgow, brought a whole new

meaning to ''who had the rice?''

In calculating who was to pay what, the diner-in-charge left some

interesting working in the margin of the bill, which the staff have kept

as a collector's item. The bill of #188.95 was rounded up to #200 for a

tip, divided by 14 and multiplied by two.

Pretty straightforward -- until they then divided this answer by six

and added on #14.29 to reach a final total of #19.05. They were

obviously not real politicos since no-one picked up the receipt.

NICK COMFORT, until recently political editor of the Daily Record, has

just published a new edition of his impressive and invaluable (#20,

actually) reference book Brewer's Politics -- A Phrase and Fable

Dictionary.

We are sure it is entirely coincidental and not a reflection of Nick's

time covering the Scottish political scene that in his alphabetically

arranged book SNP is sandwiched between ''snouts in the trough'' and

''so little done, so much to do''.

Slash-dash affair

THE Glasgow Ale Festival opens for business tomorrow and Russ Sweeny

of Camra is on with proof, were it needed, that enjoyment of traditional

beers is not only pursued by fat, bearded, boring gits. (Yes, we are

aware that the Diary fits this profile almost exactly.)

Russ tells us of the young recruit to real aledom who wanted to try a

pint of Belhaven 70/-. Being a child of the decimal coinage era, he knew

nothing of pounds, shillings, and pence and asked for a pint of

''Belhaven seventy slash dash''. The dash and slash festivities commence

at 3pm tomorrow at the Arches in Midland Street.

Powder and plot

WE conclude our foray into the world of pub quizzes with further

examples of the art of being a Quizling. Alex Drysdale of Edinburgh

reveals: ''One way to succeed is to have one or more women in the team.

If you get stuck on a question, the woman can pretend to go and ''powder

her nose'', taking her bag with her, in which she has cunningly

concealed How To Win Any Pub Quiz (the book which started the whole

debate). She can look up the answer in the toilet and swiftly return to

tell the team.''

Mr Drysdale adds: ''Bitter experience has also taught us that the only

way to win first prize in the Aberdeen University Union Quiz was to be a

flatmate of the quizmaster.''

Dick Sim of Arran suggests a more hi-tech version of the

weak-bladdered lady-team-member ploy. While she's out she uses her

mobile phone to contact Quizling HQ where an operative checks the

answers on relevant databases.

Both of the above win a copy of How To Win Any Pub Quiz. But the star

prize of a bottle of Glengoyne malt whisky goes to Eddy Cavin of

Lochwinnoch for a truly West of Scotland tale.

He was hosting a quiz at a bowling club where the decoration of choice

was numerous pictures of the royal family and the favourite colour

scheme red, white, and blue. One of his questions was in which year had

there been three popes.

There was a long silence. After some coaxing that it was worth a try,

one team finally volunteered the answer -- 1978. ''Correct. Two

points,'' said Mr Cavin. ''We don't want them,'' was the steadfast

reply.