In his column this week, season ticket holder Giles Smith sinks his teeth into the subject of stadium naming, and chocolate bars.

There has been a fair bit of talk recently about stadium naming rights. Newcastle United got the ball rolling, announcing their temporary decision to make St James' Park the sportsdirect.com @ St James' Park Stadium - thus coercing one of Britain's more storied footballing venues into an uneasy commercial alliance with an out-of-town cut-price trainer warehouse.

Which was, of course, quite funny, if you didn't have anything better to be laughing at. But let's be fair here. If I'm correct about this, what Mike Ashley, the Newcastle owner, was doing by re-christening the ground with the website address of his sports goods company - just until the end of the season and with no immediate financial advantage to the club - was advertising, not so much sports direct itself, as the availability of the naming rights.

In other words, the plan is to lure in another company who might actually pay for those naming rights, having been given a big, prior demonstration of how it might look.

In other words, calling St James's Park the sportsdirect.com @ St James's Park Stadium is the equivalent of changing the name of the ground to the Your Name Here Stadium - that slogan you sometimes see on empty advertising hoardings or on the back of car park tickets or some other commercially unexploited area.

Still, that doesn't mean it isn't quite funny. And also completely unsayable. 'The sportsdirect.com @ St James's Park Stadium.' Try saying that with a mouthful of Rowntree's Randoms.

Which doesn't really matter, of course, because no one is ever going to say it. No one. Ever. Apart possibly from the receptionist on the club's switchboard. And I hope the extra work is going to be reflected in her pay packet.

But one had barely finished sniggering about all this, and clapping oneself on the thigh at Newcastle's simply incredible ability to shoot itself in the foot, over and over again, when Chelsea's chief executive, Mr Ron Gourlay, happened to mention that Chelsea, too, wouldn't be averse to at least discussing the question of stadium naming rights - and that, moreover, a deal in this area could quite plausibly be worth in the vicinity of £100 million to the club.

Now, I suspect it goes without saying that any supporter of long-standing, with even the slightest feeling for tradition, would have become slightly concerned at this suggestion. Chelsea play at Stamford Bridge, after all. They always have done. The shape of the stadium has changed, dog tracks have come and gone, stands have risen and fallen, Ken Bates has been in and out, Robert Fleck ditto, hotels have arrived and an entire shopping and eating emporium has attached itself to the back wall of The Shed - and yet the ground has remained Stamford Bridge.

Through it all - Stamford Bridge.

So the idea that - let's just say for argument's sake - Curry's or PC World or even World of Leather might suddenly turn up in a big car and alter the address for a five-year period, with an option to extend… well, I expect many of us would feel a bit of a cold shiver for what might be lost in this transaction.

At the same time, £100 million! Even these days, when couples in Wales seem to be pulling down £35 million off the Euro Millions Lottery on an almost nightly basis, that's quite a lot of money. And just for getting a switchboard receptionist to parrot some sponsor's name every time the phone rings. You can see why it might be tempting, from the point of view of those charged with balancing the books going forwards.

But, of course, it would all depend on the nature of the name-change. York City fans, of course, had to put up with the name of their ground changing from the quite poetic Bootham Crescent to the, er, less poetic KitKat Crescent.

That can't have been easy, but at least there was a rich and resonant history there - and not just because KitKat is made in York. KitKat is, when you think about it, a perfectly appropriate thing to call a football stadium because it's the football-goer's chocolate snack of choice.

Indeed, I would be happy to argue on behalf of the merits of the Kit-Kat as convenient half-time fuel over any other commercially available chocolate bar. And not just over Bounty: over realistic bars with serious credentials, such as Mars and Twix, none of which, in my opinion, can match the KitKat for mid-match satisfaction and convenience.

So, if there is to be a name-change, or even a subtle name-shift, at Stamford Bridge, we, too, have to hope that the alliance is an appropriate one. What we really need is for one of the major blue-chip telecommunications companies to change its name to Carefree and then come steaming in with an offer that can't be refused. Stamford Bridge - The Carefree Stadium. Would anyone have a particular problem with that? At £100 million a pop?

Ditto anything involving the word 'celery'. Celery @ Stamford Bridge. I don't think there would be too many objections from the purists, if, by that means, we secured a couple of world-class strikers and some defensive cover that we might not otherwise have bought.

But in the absence of that, I suppose we'll just have to sit and wait for news. A little nervously.

Anyway, this weekend, in the place we can still, without fear of contradiction, refer to as Stamford Bridge, we take on Wolves. And Stamford Bridge, you would have to say, is a place where we seem to have given up a) losing b) drawing and c) conceding goals.

I don't suppose by any chance there's an appropriate company out there called Fortress, is there? Or would that be tempting fate?