IN The Diary's quest to show that there is life about our potential Scottish Parliament members, we can tell you of one Glasgow candidate who has returned home after secretly marrying her partner at the Candlelight Chapel in Las Vegas. Union offical Pauline McNeill, favourite to win Glasgow Kelvin for Labour, decided with partner Joe Cahill to pick up cheap flights to Vegas, then see about tying the knot. She even hired a full white wedding dress and walked through the reception of the 5500-room MGM Grand Hotel before a stretched limo took them to the

Candlelight Chapel, named presumably after the thousand or so candles (electric-powered) which adorn it.

Alas the taped tunes did not run to the Red Flag, and she walked down the aisle to the Wedding March. It was, she said, ''a sweet wee chapel''. The decision was a spur-of-the-moment thing, although they had been talking about getting married for some time. There was no instruction, she said, from Labour HQ, to get married before the elections. And she will remain Pauline McNeill, rather than Pauline Cahill, presumably as she will never be totally PC for the Labour Party.

Rumour is rife within Stakis hotels division about a possible new name once they have merged with Hilton. The word is the new outfit will be called Stilton and, yes, Stakis chief executive David Michels is likely to be the big cheese.

NOT everyone in the Labour Party has gone over to Dennis Canavan's camp in Falkirk. When Dennis's supporters were campaigning in Falkirk High Street at the weekend, one old party member putting past on her moped stopped and told them they had chosen the right place to stand, under the town's Steeple. Assuming she was giving a piece of geographical advice, they asked why. ''Because they used to hang traitors there,'' she replied before roaring, or whatever else you do on a moped, off. No doubt Dennis's fans would have preferred debating with her, just who were the traitors in the Labour Party.

ROMANCE is not dead, it

seems, in Glasgow's pubs on

St Valentine's Day. One young

woman was heard to tell the

chap who had engaged her in conversation that she ''did not have a romantic bone in her body''. Optimistically, he replied: ''Would you like one?''

STRANGE these e-mail addresses. One wonders why Christine Schulte, editor of computer mag Network Week goes under the e-mail address of hitslut@networkweek.

We ventured into dangerous territory when we said last week that the duck who went into a pub and asked for a pint of lager was female. Jane Hanley of Partickhill, Glasgow, writes: ''Surely, by their very nature, all ducks are female.'' We were lying. The duck in question was, in fact, a pre-op transvestite drake but we thought this would complicate the joke.

The scene is the ladies' lavatory in the Bute Hall of Glasgow University where there is a substantial queue of concert-goers at half-time of a piano recital by Nikolai Demidenko. Not that the performer's name matters since the important part is that the ladies are hopping about (doucely, of course) as there are only two cubicles, one of which appears to be permanently occupied.

Despite much knocking and Kelvinside-style harrumphing, the cubicle door remains shut. Until at last a young lady emerges, looking quite embarrassed. But not quite as red-faced as the young man who follows her out, his sweatshirt hood up and his gaze fixed on the floor.

It truly is a sad day when a piano recital gets in the way of the students' fun at the Bute Hall.

We did invite contributions to the Spam Good Restaurant Guide. Jon Lipp, chef of the senior ratings mess at HMS Neptune, Faslane, obliges with Spam Blinis. The dish consists of layered crepes with smoked salmon and thinly sliced Spam, sprinkled with dill, and served on a pink ginger and lime sabayon. The ratings will be pleased to hear that the Spam Blinis are served with iced vodka.

Details of a ''must have'' collector's item reaches our desk. An English art company is offering ''Greengairs in porcelain: a collection never seen before''.

A letter from Decor Arts Creations of Canterbury begins: ''Dear Inhabitant of Greengairs, The most beautiful places of Greengairs have now been captured in a collection of porcelain plates. An unprecedented collection showing the living heart of Greengairs: its pride, its beauty and its tradition . . . Never before has Greengairs been captured in such a unique collection of porcelain plates.''

Greengairs, as some of you may know, is a not entirely picturesque North Lanarkshire hamlet and an unlikely candidate to be commited to porcelain. Among the scenes on the plates are Greengairs Post Office, as fine a piece of concrete-bunker architecture as you could wish to find.

There is also the ''Social Club'', or Orange Hall as the locals better know it. Denizens of this particular building will be pleased to know that the colour scheme of the Greengairs porcelain collection is green, white, and gold. Missing from the Greengairs portfolio are the two controversial landfill sites and Longriggend young offenders institution.

Inquiries by The Diary reveal a lack of enthusiasm by Greengairians for the collection at #100 for the six plates. Oh, and the owner of the post office thinks it should be demolished, and rebuilt.