Tuesday, 26 February 2008

Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child. Or should Parents and Guardians have to run the gauntlet between their Prodigy and Dogmatic Do gooders.


Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child. Or should Parents and Guardians have to run the gauntlet between their Prodigy and Dogmatic Do gooders.
Vest Say's. Labour's smacking laws could be 'unworkable' the rulings are as clear as mud.It has suggested that parents who do not mean to harm their children should never be jailed.Documents prepared by Lord Phillips and colleagues said that if a parent who smacked a child had not meant to cause, or did not foresee, an injury they would not have intended to commit a crime. This is a point where most people should agree upon. The more likely opponents would be those who do not have disobedient children under their control, mainly on the shelf bureaucratic old biddies with an axe to grind.The Children Act of 2004 removed the defence of "reasonable chastisement" from parents who injured their children. Injuries as slight as a bruise can now result in an assault charge.However, in consultation papers the council said the courts should continue to give great weight to the "reasonable chastisement" doctrine. This is most important, as the vast majority of parents would know and probably use a smack on the bottom to bring an unruly child to order.It said if there was no intention to cause injury, that should be "substantial mitigation".It recommended: "Where not only was the injury neither intended nor foreseen, but was not even reasonably foreseeable, then a discharge might be appropriate."The 2004 compromise law on smacking has failed to satisfy the lobby group pushing for physical punishment of children to be outlawed.Led by heavily publicly-subsidised campaign groups like the NSPCC, the National Children's Bureau, and a plethora of miscellaneous bitching biddies, the lobby is pressing for tougher laws. One workable law would be to allow harassed parents to offload their dissident offspring to the do gooders for a period of fostering until the child was tamed, or the foster parent wound up in the rubber room. A group of Labour MPs is currently trying to gather support in the Commons. Around 50 have signed a letter saying the matter should be treated as a moral issue, with a free vote for MPs.The Government said that it did not believe that the smacking rules need to be changed.A spokesman for the Department of Children, Schools and Families said: "Following the last review, in the absence of evidence that the current law is not working, we do not believe that it needs to be changed.Have you been involved in any situation requiring chastisement , either as an administrator or recipient, or if not, what would be your approach to this ongoing problem."We have always sought to achieve the right balance to protect children without criminalising parents."
posted by Vest @ 2/20/2008 07:15:00 PM 0 comments links to this post

18 comments:

Jim said...

OK Vest
cane your kids

Cane RM too
Enjoy

Aggie said...

They changed the law here in N.Z. even though the majority wanted NO CHANGE. It's a load of bollocks and one parent has already been prosecuted for "flicking" his son's ear. It is not stopping any of those who truly abuse their children and is making parenting in this country a matter of fear. Little horrors run wild in the shops/supermarket and their parents do not DARE discipline them in public for fear of what might happen to them. I wouldn't be a parent here now for any amount of money you could pay me. The most ridiculous law ever!

Vest said...

I cannot recall ever physically chastising our children (5 Boys),er indoors (Rosemary)was gifted in the art of administering correctional pain without the visible hurt. going back a fair bit it was the accepted thing, although child abuse was more prevalent then; than today.

Jim said...

me too
my dad never hit me
he never scolded me either

my mom spoiled me
I once was spied knocking mangoes from my neighbors tree

the neighbor chased me
my mom hid me under her skirts
and said I was not home

Jim said...

I wish my parents had given me sex education

I was totally ignorant then
my gf tot she wud get pregnant if she kissed me


we had no internet
no google search then

all we had was Playboy
and porn books

Keshi said...

I was smacked..when I was lil :)

Nothing wrong with disciplining a kid that way (maybe a lil smack on the butt)...as long as it doesnt go overboard and harm the child.

Keshi.

Vest said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Vest said...

Vest said...
Guess who was on the receiving end of this lot.

CHAPTER 7
Halls Naval Academy
I don’t remember how I got to HNA, but I was very pleased to be back with my brother after a year of separation. Christopher seemed changed. He was in Class 2B when I arrived on 16 December 1936. I was exactly ten years and five months of age. Christopher was in Seven Company and I was in Six Company, each company having about forty-five boys between the ages of eleven and fifteen-and-a-half. I had two days of schooling before the Christmas break, when I was told I would be in 1A not the 1B class. (The Headmaster had obviously read the letter from Mr Pointer.
Halls Naval Academy was a charity school with a nautical theme run on militaristic principles. The estate was located in the Suffolk rural countryside far from the outside world. It was situated on the edge of a plateau that sloped east to a valley near the river Eastham where the school farmed the land.
HNA had a population of a large staff and about three hundred students between eleven and sixteen years of age. The students were allowed to take two three-week vacations each year during the summer and at Christmas. All other holiday periods were spent at the school. Students without guardians never left the school. Students had no access to the outside world, arbitral access, or personal rights. Discipline was strict. Hunger and fear of punishment were constant. Love and affection were non-existent. All communication to and from the school was censored. Those boys who never left the school on vacation became conditioned to their surroundings (like caged birds) and were probably happier at the school than those of us who had occasional release from our incarceration.
On the 20 December 1936, having been told by my brother that he was going home again to Auntie Parker, I raised the roof and said, “I should go, too!” I was told, “No money, no ticket, no permission. Sorry, you’ll have to stay”. Like bloody hell, I thought. Then the bugler sounded the action stations call and the lucky ones – about half the population of the school – marched to the East Oakville Station.
Two or three hours later, I was on a train that had stopped at a large station. My friend, Ernie Booker and I had no idea where we were going and must have looked conspicuous. The ticket bloke and staff at the station locked us up. Soon after, we were back at HNA.
Living in a dark cloud of rejection, I was totally at odds with that place. I wondered how much more I would have to suffer.
22 December 1936
My brother had arrived in Charlham. Meanwhile, I was confused and in a state of apathy. Ernie and I were in serious trouble. Having only been at this place for six days, I was to get six cuts of the cane. Having no one to turn to for help, I was wretchedly homesick. It was suggested by a few teachers that because it was so close to Christmas we should be forgiven, but our Capt. Superintendent replied, “Peace on earth and goodwill to all men applies only on Christmas day.”
The remaining population of the school gathered to witness our punishment. A box horse for us to bend over was produced, plus the biggest rattan cane – even bigger than the one at Charlham School. Ernie went first. It seemed like a bloody execution – minus the knitting hags, the French National Anthem, and a basket for our heads. Ernie was brave but white as a sheet after his six, and had to go to the sickbay. I later learned he had received a testicular injury.
Ernie going first made little difference, as another instructor, ‘Gunner Marten’ was to be my tormentor. I felt bloody awful. My thin trousers barely hid the bleeding welts across my buttocks. After the six strokes, I shouted in agonising pain, “I hope you die, you rotten cruel sod!” and got number seven. Gunner Marten died during the war about four years later. I was unmoved.
Christmas in HNA was over. Our total excitement had consisted of two church parades, an apple, an orange, and cake. Where was Charlie Dickens? What a pity he missed out on this place.
January 1937
Christopher returned from his Christmas holiday and was visibly unhappy, as were most of the ‘lucky’ holiday kids.
During the next six months or so before I turned eleven, I learned a great deal – from forced reading programs to basic parade drills and every conceivable rifle drill movement that was in some sort of military manual. This training was done with an ancient side-loading Winchester repeater lever action rifle that was circa 1850. Fortunately, bayonets were not included, maybe in case of a student revolt. I later learned that when the school was demolished in 1949 after a serious fire, all of these valuable historic, well-kept firearms were broken up and buried without cash-strapped St. Bernard’s ever benefiting from their antique value. How stupid!
About this time in 1937, Ronald Boucher, my friend, who was a year older than me but smaller in stature and who slept in the next bed to me; died overnight of a brain problem. Ronald’s suffering from constant headaches had been totally ignored by the school authorities. Little Ron was only eleven when he passed away. I was terribly upset. He was so young, and there were so many elderly persons at the school that I thought God, in his wisdom, should have taken first.

Excerpt from, Waving goodbye to a thousand flies

Anonymous said...

is K a virgin?
if she is not

u r to blame

Jim said...

My thin trousers barely hid the bleeding welts across my buttocks. After the six strokes, I shouted in agonising pain, “I hope you die, you rotten cruel sod!” and got number seven. Gunner Marten died during the war about four years later.


your cusses arent so potent
i still have 4 more years to live

Vest said...

Anonymous: You see and believe things; and you say "why?" But I dream things that never were: or will be: and I say, "Why not?"

amy..swansea. said...

From what I read vesty, you had a rough trot as a kid, I even became teary just thinking about you and the shit you had to put up with-but I won't kiss your bum better, jeeze that musta bin painful.

bill mcgill said...

Sorry to hear about your accident we have been in Tenerife for a month, if you had been full of nelsons you would'nt have hurt yourself, love to rosemary, bill (scouse)

Jim said...

THANKS Vest

http://imnutsincapsapatriot.blogspot.com/2008/02/mumbai-party-take-dekho.html

nigel said...

Hope yourself Rose and the family are keeping well.
I'm still on the railway just completed 26 years service, I'm in the ticket office now at Bedhampton which is better for me as my hours are very good 06:30 - 14:05 Monday to Friday and Saturday 07:15 to 14:50 and Sunday 09:00 to 17:00, I do get a day off in the week and work every other Sunday.
Dad is keeping well, just been up to see him today, he is going down to Christine's at Dover on Saturday and staying there until Tuesday so that will be a nice break for him.
Still miss mum, but coping a lot better than I expected, I'm sending you and Rose some picture's which I thought you both would like.
Take Care
Nigel.

Vest said...

Keshi: Let me know when you become naughty and I'll pop over and smack your bum. I suppose it should follow that, I say, "Oh Yeah Baby".

Cooksiee said...

notty notty

dearest
i have been reading u for a long long time

i wanted to express my feelings for u

I almost did
then i found out u r happily married

my heart broke in 2
mebbe in my next incarnation
u will be mine


sorry Rosemary
i had to say it
4give me

u r blessed to have him

Jim said...

"Oh Yeah Baby".
me next

move over VEST