THERE are worse things than smacking a child. Such as stuffing their bodies with junk food. Or their brains with junk television. Or giving them medicine because you can't control them - probably because they're so wired because of the rubbish they've eaten and watched.

The Children's Commissioners in England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland want a total ban on smacking children. They seem unable to differentiate between a smack on the wrist for a toddler playing with a plug and taking the belt to a teenager.

Well, I think the rest of us have worked that one out. I'm with Tony Blair on this when he said: "Most parents know the difference between smacking and abusing a child."

And for those who don't, a new law won't help much.

While the commissioners were getting worked up about smacking, it took TV chef Jamie Oliver to jolt us into thinking about how we feed our children. There has been plenty of research that proves too much junk food can be disastrous.

Increasingly, young children are showing signs of diseases that used not to be seen till middle age. Last month a young Sunderland man died of cirrhosis of the liver after living exclusively on sliced white bread, fast food, chips and occasional baked beans. How many other children, if not dying, are living their lives feeling stodgy, uncomfortable and miserable because of what they've eaten? No wonder they get ratty.

Meanwhile cases o f ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) are soaring. More children are having their behaviour controlled by medicine.

Yes, of course there are plenty of genuine cases where the medicine is not only necessary but an absolute lifesaver - especially for desperate parents. I recall one six-year-old who grabbed his baby sister and tried to jump through a closed window. He and his parents needed all the help they could get.

But so many? So suddenly? Are they sure about them all?

For many children, there must be a better way of improving behaviour.

And if it's a choice between a smack on the legs or a dose of medicine to keep them quiet, I know which I'd prefer.

The strange planet

of politicians

SOMETHING happens when people become politicians. They start off as ordinary people, then as soon as they get to the House of Commons, they seem to live in a different world.

What is so breathtaking about Mark Oaten and his rent boy is not the incident itself - desperate though that must be for his family - but the thought that he could get away with it and stand as leader. Just like that, with no-one finding out. He's either amazingly dim or amazingly arrogant. Or just, like so many politicians, on a different planet from the rest of us.

Well, would you tell them? A woman told a phone in on Radio Five Live last week that she'd won £1.5m and hadn't told the family. Her husband had a minor drug problem and was working and coping with it. Her children were happy. She didn't want to rock the boat. You can see her logic even as you gawp at her restraint.

She gave the family trips and treats but said the money had come from bonuses. Goodness knows what they'll think when they eventually find out - as they certainly will.

Funny, isn't it, that we've had a number of stories about men pretending that they've won the Lottery, but only a woman could pretend that she hadn't.

A MISTAKE by a company in America meant that they owed us £350. I wrote to them without much hope and prepared for one of those long drawn out battles to get money out of big companies, where you speak to a different person every time and they all deny all knowledge of your problem, complicated by the small problem of the Atlantic and a six hour time difference in the way.

Not a bit of it. A pleasant woman rang me, told me her name and department - in case I needed to get in touch again - apologised profusely and said a cheque would be posted "immediately". She wasn't kidding - it arrived by courier the next working day. I'd like to think that British companies would be as helpful, as pleasant and as prompt. But I don't believe in flying pigs either.

MANY thanks for all your email chain letters. So many. Some of them have been quite funny, some not as much fun as they make out, and others have been downright nasty.

Anyway, they've all gone now and I shall cheerfully risk the bad luck.

But if you hear I've been eaten alive by a shark in the Tees, you'll know why.

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