Royal Exchange Court is not as grand as the name might suggest. Rather than an impressive Georgian mansion, it’s a tatty building squirrelled away down a graffiti-covered alley off Queen Street. Large commercial bins abut a tired-looking glass door. But it’s from here that the future of Glasgow’s food and leisure scene is being directed — supposedly.
When Clydeside Containers was first announced in December 2024, it was billed as a seismic deal. The duo behind it, Dario Bernardi and Nathan Sparling, promised to transform a scrubby patch of dirt down on the Broomielaw into a “first-of-its-kind” venue, combining the best of Glasgow’s street food with entertainment including gigs, comedy nights and themed parties. Modelled on the likes of London’s Boxpark and Manchester’s Freight Island, when Clydeside Containers launched in April 2025, it was going to “set a new standard”, Bernardi and Sparling promised.
This was exciting. The project showed real ambition. It would be the first venue to open on that stretch of the Clyde in decades, and had the potential to kickstart a long-awaited riverfront revival. A rush of big-name food and drinks suppliers signed up, along with excited street food vendors. A buzz was in the air.
But more than a year on from Clydeside Containers’ scheduled launch, the ten or so black containers that were supposed to herald the riverfront’s regeneration sit empty and abandoned. Signs of life are few, except for a giant yellow banner also covered in graffiti, under which is printed in black writing: “Opening August 2025”.
That’s not to say Sparling and Bernardi haven’t been busy though. The latter has been resigning from his businesses like they’re going out of fashion. Sparling is now a convicted embezzler. The pair insist they haven’t run out of money, and that Clydeside Containers is going ahead.
Graffiti, forgotten mops, and flecks of rust mar the containers. Photos: The Bell
Is that true? We’ve dug into the story and discovered a trail of bad luck, misleading information and changing business ownership. At least two people associated with the project have distanced themselves; meanwhile the council has accused Sparling of outright lies.
“It’s been a really difficult situation [...] not knowing what’s happening ever,” one vendor tells The Bell. “It was always “this date then this date bla bla”.
What’s going on? And what did Sparling and Bernardi say when we finally tracked them down?
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