WELL, if I were a teenager today, I think I'd take to drink. I tried to in my own time, of course. But in those days, pubs were for grown-ups. Underage drinkers were only tolerated if they knew their place - quietly in the corner nursing a half of cider, trying to look 18.

Now pubs are geared to attract children, families, teenagers. They are multicoloured entertainment palaces, all music, noise and lights, with cartoon menus, so we shouldn't be in the least surprised that teenagers feel entirely at home.

In fact, we shouldn't be surprised at all that according to a British Medical Association report, today's teenagers are the unhealthiest, most overweight, biggest binge drinking generation.

After all, we made them that way.

We are the parents who were scared to say "no" to our children, who were too busy to give them our time, so gave them treats instead, whether it was television in their bedrooms, or a bumper bag of sweets.

We worried about traffic so chauffeured them everywhere, and wonder why they never think to walk or ride a bike. We were so afraid of stranger danger that we've taken away their freedom and kept them under house arrest.

We dressed our children like mini hookers, gave them comics full of sex tips and let them watch explicit programmes, and wonder why their sex lives start almost as soon as they leave primary school.

We changed their schooling so education no longer widened their world but narrowed it down to tests, tests and more tests. And even if they did brilliantly, we still said they hadn't done as well as we did and we still called them failures.

If they get through all that lot, they'll spend a fortune on a degree that is increasingly worthless and will probably never be able to buy a decent house in a decent area unless we help them.

And now we're trying to tell them that it's all their fault. That's enough to make anyone turn to drink, or anything stronger that's on offer.

Luckily, amazingly, most teenagers are still happy, healthy and well-adjusted, with just that same streak of bolshie daftness that has been the nature of the beast since the dawn of time.

But if they turn out alright - as most of them will - I'm not sure that we can take the credit for it.

IT can't be easy having a famous dad. When Stella McCartney (left) started building her fashion empire, there were plenty of people to sneer, call her amateurish and say she only got the job because of her name. All she had to do to prove them wrong was make a brilliant success of it all.

Unfortunately, her fashion label has lost £7m in two years.

How lucky the rest of us are, without a famous name and connections. We can make our mistakes in quietness and obscurity - and on a much, much smaller scale.

AN interesting statistic cropped up at the weekend. In the olden days, when Michael Howard and I were at grammar school, 59 per cent of Oxbridge students came from state schools.

Since we've had the glorious comprehensive revolution, the percentage has dropped to 54 per cent.

So much for improving access.

CAN anyone tell me what our Christmas stamps are meant to represent?

I've just stared at the second class stamps and the design just looks like a snake on a telegraph pole. Or spaghetti on a burnt sausage.

Whatever it is, it is dim, dark and cheerless and does nothing to instil an air of festive jollity. If Royal Mail feel that miserable, the least they could do would be to keep it to themselves - and maybe give the rest of us a few robins or snowmen or a ho ho ho.

A THIRD of all babies born in York last year had their births registered at a special register office in ASDA. Meanwhile, ASDA in South Bank, Middlesbrough, is the latest in the chain to have its own part-time chaplain.

Supermarkets have long since put grocers out of business and are doing a pretty good job of taking over butchers, bakers, banks, pharmacists and fashion stores. Now it seems they're in at the birth and seeing to our spiritual needs too.

One day, there will be no town centres, no streets of shops and little businesses. Maybe not even banks or registry offices or churches.

Just supermarkets, acres and acres of supermarkets.

SPLENDID day on Sunday and I was out early in the sunshine and frost. As were two small children about three and five, who were entranced with the frozen puddles.

They trod lightly to crack the ice and were enthralled by the resulting patterns. They tried skating on puddles barely a foot long. They poked sticks into tiny holes in the ice and watched as the sun slowly made them bigger. And they threw tiny bits of broken ice up against the bright blue sky to watch it glitter in the sun.

Those children will no doubt have hundreds of pounds worth of presents for Christmas, but it's doubtful if they will provide as much fun and fascination as a couple of frozen puddles on a bright sunny morning.

CHILDREN in Afghanistan, where education is the only hope for a better future, are dropping out of newly-opened schools because they cannot afford the 25p a month for the teacher.

Puts the fuss about top-up fees into perspective, doesn't it?

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