Now, I want your undivided attention here, switch off Football Focus or Soccer AM or the video of last night's Friday Sportscene and Scotsport Extra Time, there's a serious point to be made about football coverage on TV.

I'm not moaning about the saturation of soccer on the box. Back when I was a kid we could only kick around an empty kwenchy kup and dream of watching two complete Aberdeen games and Dundee v St Johnstone all in the one week. My complaint is that there's too much football in today's football coverage. Take last Sunday's Dons-Celts showdown at Pittodrie.

With seven minutes remaining, 10-man Hoops were 3-1 down after an own goal and two squandered penalties. That's when Sky chose to capture Jock Brown committing the heinous crime of laughing. His callous chortle provoked an outrage. So why wasn't the camera on him more often? We can only speculate on what atrocious shenanigans Celtic's Football General Manager was getting up to while Sky's director lingered on mundane events like Jim Leighton's by-kicks.

Next time Celtic are involved in a live TV game, I propose there should be a special ''Jockcam'' trained exclusively on Brown for the full 90 minutes. After the final whistle, Charlie Nicholas could use an electronic screen-marker pen to highlight how the match affected his countenance - ''rewind here to when the Airdrie player slams home the rebound . . . cut to the Jockcam . . . no hint of a giggle . . . but clear evidence of continued hair loss . . . now let's turn to our virtual-reality-Jock and investigate how much balder Brown might become on Wednesday in Croatia''.

Some so-called sensible soccer watchers have suggested that Jock's shocking chuckling was simply that auld Scots trait of employing humour in adversity. But they fail to grasp the full potential of putting cameras in the stands.

You'll recall the pioneering use of Ronaldoburdcam at The World Cup which allowed us to watch the Brazilian's girlfriend watching him. This type of technology should be utilised in matches like tomorrow's big SPL clash. That way, the viewing public would be allowed a squint at the ladyfriends of Sean McSkimming and George O'Boyle or, if the athletes involved are single the camera could cut to an empty seat with the caption ''sweetheart required'' and maybe even a phone number.

At other matches, a secret Pressboxcam could capture the reactions of top sports journalists after key goals. Mind you, this could be the most volatile of the lot . . . remember the TV stooshie when Gascoigne was caught miming the flute?

qAnyone travelling towards Dundee today should keep a lookout for The Horn milk-bar near Errol just outside the city. After a long car journey it's amazing how the sight of a big horn by the side of the road can lift the spirits. And you never know what superstar you might bump into.

En route to Dens for a Sunday cup-tie in 1995, I ended-up tray to tray with then United striker Craig Brewster. He noted my companions' Partick Thistle apparel and politely wished us all the best against his city rivals. Last Saturday Stewart McKimmie (or a Stewart McKimmie lookalike) took a table beside us. No words were exchanged, but it looks as if the stopper-turned-pundit's delighting in finally being able to tuck into an oversized bacon roll or two of a Saturday lunchtime. All this brings us to my pal Paul's brush with greatness earlier this week. He swears he recognised Harald Brattbakk in the computer section of a Glasgow bookshop. Does the Celtic players self-imposed silence include e-mail?

qThe trip back from Forfar fairly flew by as we recounted The Jags' sublimely sneaky win. In particular the goal created by the wizardry of winger Martin Lauchlan (and let me tell you, the similarities between Lauchlan and Laudrup don't end with the first three letters of their names.) I'm unsure how many other supporters shared my delight as one paper had the number 680 under the scoreline and another recorded 1053. Perhaps the first figure was the game's attendance while the second counted-up the number of tasty local savoury snack treats they consumed. ''I'm afraid we've run out of bridies,'' was the sad announcement over the PA system before half-time.

There hadn't been much singing during the first half but the sheer volume of chomping noises from the sizeable travelling support must have intimidated the home side. In an attempt to raise bridieless interval spirits, the club dug out a disco-mix medley of Glen Miller's In The Mood, and the tannoy-man suggested ''we're having a party''.

There was certainly a friendly, atmosphere in Station Park. One chirpy crowd member even called-out a greeting to his favourite at a corner. The footballer grinned back and stuck his thumb aloft seconds before contesting a header at the near post. You can get away with that sort of thing in the second division . . . there's no TV cameras.