Holding to account Danny Coughlan, former Head of the Lower School at Finchley Catholic High School

 Have you ever thought you were going to die? I know we all die sooner or later, but what I mean is in the next minute or two? It has only happened to me twice. Once when I was hit by a speeding car in Burnt Oak in 1988 and the other when I was an 11 year old pupil at Finchley Catholic High School. I'd been at the school about four months. It was January. The rule was that at break times, we had to all go into the playground. Teachers would guard the door, to ensure that we didn't go back in. On this particular day, it was freezing cold. At the end of 'dinner break', I was keen to get back into the classroom to warm up. I positioned myself at the front of the queue. 

Shortly before the bell was due to ring, to allow us back in, there was a clap of thunder and it started raining. There was a mad scrum towards the door. The 'Headmaster of the lower school' Mr Danny Coughlan, appeared. I was being pushed in by the scrum. Coughlan screamed at us all to wait for the bell. This was to no avail. What happened next has troubled me ever since. Coughlan was a large man and I was a small child. He punched me as hard as could in the throat. The whole crowd saw. I don't know if you've ever been punched hard in the throat. I wouldn't recommend it. I couldn't breath. I staggered back and collapsed, gasping for air. Mr Coughlan then came down and started kicking me, telling me to get up. To be honest, the kicks didn't bother me. I couldn't breath and I thought I was going to die. I really can't recall what happened next. I don't know if I passed out or had a panic attack. 

My next recollection of the event was that I was up in his office. He told me that if I mentioned the events to a soul, I'd be expelled and no other school would accept a troublemaker like me. I protested that I had done nothing, there was a crowd pushing me. He informed me that if I continued to lie about the event, he would "give me six of the best". He told me that he'd put on my record that I was a liar. I was not the person I am now. I was terrified of him and I thought that no one would believe me. I thought my Dad would clobber me for being naughty. Who would you believe, an eleven year old child or a respected headmaster of the local, prestigious Catholic school? 

Why do I mention this now? Well on Wednesday, I went to Manchester with my son. He is 24 and went to FCHS. I was joking about how much times have changed. His generation never had to endure violence from the teachers. When I thought about it, I realised that even with the climate of corporal punishment at the time, what Coughlan did was extreme. In hindsight, I wish I'd told my parents. I had been the victim of a vicious and unprovoked assault. I spent the two years in the lower school doing my best to avoid Coughlan. I used to get extremely anxious about going to school. It got so bad that by the time I was thirteen, I was seeing a paediatrician and was on valium for anxiety. I had not put the two things together, but I recall the absolute trauma and terror of Coughlan. 

Sadly, I couldn't completely avoid him. He would take RE lesssons. They were bizarre. He'd dictate the lesson and we'd write it down. We'd then hand it in and he'd check that we'd transcribed it word for word. Being dyslexic, I was on the receiving end of his ire. I'd be called thick and an idiot. I wasn't the only one. Bear in mind, most of us were aged 11 and from good Catholic homes (by this I mean, quite young and naive, not that we were better than anyone). The first lesson he gave us, in the first week, he stood up and said "You are all bent!". He then asked if we knew what bent meant. A few of us sniggered. He made one of the sniggerers stand up. He demanded to know what "being bent" meant. At the time, it was a derogatory term usually used in a homophobic manner. The poor lad suggested that Mr Coughlan thought we were gay ( I can't recall the exact words). Coughlan said "No, being bent means you are crooked, you are sinners, you are bent!". He then told us that we were scarred with original sin and would all go to hell, save for the generous intercession of Jesus Christ. 

Now at the time I was an alter server and went to mass twice a week. I'd yet to commit any sins, beyond nicking spare change from my brother's pockets when he was having a drunken lie in and teasing my sister for being spotty. We'd always been told that Jesus was our friend. Mr Coughlan said he wasn't our friend, he was our saviour and none of us were worthy of him. We were just damn lucky we were Catholics. If we were Protestants or any other religion, we'd be doomed. I was quite disturbed. Some of my best mates were Cof E and a couple were Jewish. The thought them and all of their families were going to Hell was terrible. I was lucky, my Dad had a friend who was a retired priest. I asked him if Mr Coughlans theological perspective was correct. I will always respect and thank Fr Traynor for his considered response. He said that according to the second Vatican council, this sort of thinking was completely outdated. It was completely up to God who was allowed in and it wasn't up to us to judge. As Catholics, we knew what we should do to please God, but the concept that there wasn't a non Catholic anywhere who wouldn't be let in was simply absurd. He then explained that some sects like the Jeheovahs Witnesses believe only members go to heaven, but that was an anathema to Catholics. I was grateful such stupidity had been debunked. I wanted to challenge Mr Coughlan but he was a terrifying individual. 

The odd thing was, and I only realised this now, is that I have realised that Coughlan knew he'd totally overstepped the mark with me. Other teachers had witnessed his assault and knew about it. He might have killed me. A couple of times over the next two years, I was up before him for misdemeanors. I fully expected to get the cane, but he never administered it. Everyone else I knew, who did such things was caned. In hindsight, I think Coughlan was worried that if I was caned, the assault may have come out. It was all rather odd. He was most reasonable with me. 

I spoke to my elder brothers about him. They'd gone to Challoner School, where Couglan was headmaster. It was a fee paying Catholic private school. It merged with Finchley Grammar School to form FCHS four years before I joined. Pop Groves, head of FGS became headmaster and Coughlan had been made Headmaster of the Lower School as a sop. He had total autonomy over the first two years. 

When my brothers had been at Challoner, Coughlan had been even more brutal. He'd once caned the whole school as someone had failed to own up for a misdemeanour. It was not about education, it was about brutality. When Coughlan caned a child, he had a ritual, where he put on a cape and ball cap and informed the child that he hate doing it and it was for their own good. I previously wrote a blog about FCHS and got this comment

What a disgusting place that Challoner School was. They knew nothing about nurture and everything about inspiring fear and loathing into our minds. Any joy, or interest, in learning about any subject was squashed. I'm now 70 and still rage at that soulless crow Coughlan and the impact he had on so many young minds. The abuse was daily. There was never a single day where you were greeted with a smile walking into that prison of a school.

I was lucky, I got expelled in my 3rd term. I still don't know why, but thank God for expulsion!

I thought long and hard about writing this blog. I have no doubt that Daniel Coughlan and his regime at Challoner/FCHS damaged a lot of people. I believe that all of the teachers and the administration of the school knew he was dangerous and should not have been let anywhere near young boys. What should have been a pleasant experience that built character and moral fibre, for me and I believe many others, became a game of getting through, counting down the days, until we went to the main school and were free of this idiot. I am sure many didn't have such a bad experience as I had, but I genuinely don't think anyone who saw Coughlan in action would be in any doubt that the man was not fit to be in a school.

I don't want compensations, apologies or a meeting with the school. I just want to put it out there, have my say and fifty years after I was seriously assaulted as a child, let the world know what the man who did it really was.  That will do me.

Just in case you are nostaligic for those days, have a look at this

Prayer, Penance and Catholic guilt

 I started writing blogs nearly thirteen years ago. This is one of the very first blogs I planned to write, but try as I may, I couldn't find the words to convey what I meant. I have probably had another 50 attempts, my draft blog folder is littered with discarded efforts, all of which completely failed to convey what I had to say. I could have taken the cop out route and published any of them. I suppose they are all quite interesting in their own way, but I just felt none were honest enough or said what I really wanted to say properly. Let me start by saying that if you are reading this and now expect stark tales of dastardly deeds, then there are none here. But in some ways, I think what I am going to say is far more devastating about the way the Roman Catholic church functions. I am saying this in the probably vain hope that someone, somewhere in a position of authority in the organisation will read it, stop and think about what I have to say, and take some of what I have to say on board. You may ask what is different this time? Well firstly, I have had some inspiration and pause for thought. This is thanks to Pat Mills. Mills is a writer, perhaps IMHO the finest of our generation if you like graphic fantasy novels. Mills also tweets about the issues with the Catholic Church. We share a view that the Church needs to properly address the scandals that are destroying it at the moment. We also share the view that it needs to properly address the victims of abuse, treat them with the dignity and respect they deserve and deliver justice and closure for the horrors that have been heaped upon them. 

But that is not where I want to start, I just wanted to put the context there. I wanted to start by talking about Prayer. I believe Prayer to be the most powerful thing in the Universe. I despise the snake oil salesmen preachers who sell Prayer as some sort of shopping cart that delivers miracles and riches. It does none of those things. They sow false hope, they inspire cynicism and they completely alienate people to something which may save their lives and sanity. Let me explain. I believe I was blessed. I was taught to pray by my father. He was a gruff Australian, raised in the outback. He flew bombers for the RAF in the second world war. He was a hardnut who lead a successful escape. There were tales of him throwing a gangsters enforcer in an incinerator in the 1950's after an attempt to extort money from his business. But there was another side to him. When I was a small child, my biggest treat was to see Daddy in the mornings. My father hated getting up and loved nothing more than lying in bed. Mum would bring him cups of tea and toast, to keep him out of the way. She couldn't stand his cheerful demeanour. I would jump into bed with him and he'd grab his Rosary beads off the bedpost and we'd lie there saying the rosary. One day I remember asking him why he did that. He said "Just to say thank you to God for being alive". At that moment, two London Sparrows appeared on the gutter of the adjouning house. He looked and said "There's St Peter and St Paul, come down from heaven to make sure we are alright". By an amazing coincidence, as he said that a ray of sunshine broke through, illuminating us. He said "All is good with the world". Of course, sadly it wasn't but all was good with our world. My father always said that Prayer was a primarily a thank you for our blessings. He said that you should never pray for worldly riches, your football team to win or luck in love. He said that you should pray for strength to persevere and solace in despair. He said if you had a problem you should pray for the wisdom to see it through and if you were in turmoil, you should empty your mind and say the Rosary and just hope for peace and calm. 

As a teenager, I forget these lessons. When I was 24, I'd left home and my Father had been very ill. I was going through an Atheist phase. I was shocked to see him and was convinced he was going to die. I thought of his words and prayed that he'd make a recovery, asking the Lord for the opportunity to have one last curry with him at The Mill Hill Tandoori. Be careful just what you pray for. To everyones amazement, he recovered. My mother, who had got sick of him moping around (he was a lousy patient), went to see her sister when he was better. I vowed to make good on my words. Dad was 69 and it was November 1986. We had a great night. He told me a story, something had been troubling him in hospital. He said that when he'd been shot down over Rumania in 1944, as he was struggling to get out of his Wellington Bomber before it crashed, he prayed to the Virgin Mary. He said that the bible said a man had three score and ten years. He said that if he somehow survived, he'd lead a good life and do what he could to thank the Lord for his survival. He managed to bale out with about five seconds to spare. He felt his parachute open, he heard the plane hit the ground, then he hit the ground, in the pitch black spraining both ankles. 

When he was taken POW and placed in a POW camp in Bucharest, he'd had no sleep for three days. He was tired and dispirited. He took out his Rosary beads, started to pray and fell asleep. A camp guard came in, saw his boots on the bed and hit them with the butt of his rifle. My father, woken and in a foul mood, leaped out of bed and started to beat the hell out of the guard. An officer came in, pointed his Mauser pistol at my father and said asked what the hell was going. My Father still had the Rosary in his hand. He said "I was praying when this goon attacked me" (or words to that effect). The officer, seeing the Rosary realised he was telling the truth. He told my father to go back to his prayers and disciplined the guard. My Grandmother was raised in a German orphanage and had raised my Father by speaking German to him, so he understood every word. He strongly believed that if you were right with the Lord, such things happened. 

What troubled him was that he was now in his 70th year. The good Lord had fulfilled his part of the bargain. He said that when he'd been lying in hospital, he'd realised that he'd run out of road. I pointed out that he was fine. I suggested that he go to Florida to see my sister, who lived in Fort Lauderdale to recuperate. Her husband was a doctor, so he'd be in good hands. Dad said he'd been thinking of doing that. My parents decided to see out the winter there. We spoke about many things, drinking scotch until 3am. It was probably the only proper adult conversation I ever had with my father. In January, my mothers sister Died. My parents returned on the 30th January 1987. I didn't know they'd come back, no mobile phones then. The day after my father had a heart attack and died. Be careful what you pay for. He had his three score and ten, I had my curry. Make of it what you will.

In 2011, when I learned I had Prostate cancer, a friend gave me an amazing book, called Anti Cancer - A new way of living. It has many good lifestyle tips, to help deal with a bad situation. It is written by a qualified doctor. There is a chapter on meditation. I learned a very interesting thing. A study was done to assess the calming effect of meditation on the brain. A group of Buddhist monks were wired up and their brains monitored whilst meditating. As expected, the brain waves became very calm. A similar experiment was done by the same team on a group of Italian nuns saying the rosary. To the surprise of the team, they had exactly the same calm brain patterns. The conclusion was that quiet meditation, whatever the form is very good for you. Coming from an Irish Catholic background, with some Aussie thrown in, I thought back to those days saying the rosary with my father. Since then, if I can't sleep, feel distressed, need inspiration, I say the Rosary. It works for me. My reasons for mentioning this is to ensure you understand how important prayer is to me. It helps, it works. I make no claims that it has made me lucky in love or successful in business, I'd like to say I've prayed for neither but it is not entirely true, but the success I prayed for in love did not emerge in the way I had hoped, although I am blessed beyond my prayers as a teenager (lets leave that there).

I hope I've set out just how important prayer is for me personally, now we move on to the trickier part of the matter. When I started attending St Vincents RC Primary school, my relationship with Prayer started to change. It no longer was a joyous experience, where Sparrows would appear and rays of sunshine would shine. My memories of that time was of being told how every sin was a stain on your soul. It seemed the sun never shined. A whole new vocabulary appeared. We learned that babies that died without Baptism went to Limbo (this place always confused me, I believe it has been abolished). When you  died, before you could go to heaven, you went to Purgatory to account for your sins. We were urged to pray for the Holy Souls, although I could never quite figure out why. We learned that our faith was the one true one and all the rest of them were wrong. We never prayed for the Queen, as she was the Head of The Church of England. We were taught that if we were really lucky, we'd be tortured and put to death as Martyr's then we might jump the queue, dodge purgatory and go straight to heaven.

When we were about seven we started to 'learn our sacrements'. Confession was the first. For those who are not familiar. You tell the priest all of your sins and in return he gives you absolution and penance. What is penance? It is those same prayers I'd joyously say with my Dad as a Toddler, but you'd have to sit in a cold church, with everyones eyes on you. They could tell how naughty you'd been by how long you'd say your penance for. We were told that if you didn't confess and you died, then you'd be in deep trouble. As kids, we'd all make up sins, trawl our brains for minor infractions. Dear Father "I've lied, I told tales on my sister, I didn't say my prayers". What sins could a seven year old realistically commit that would confine them to purgatory. 

St Vincents was run by the Daughters of Charity. Being dyslexic and more or less incapable of reading and writing, I struggled. I didn't receive too much charity. The most feared of all teachers was Miss O'Donovan. I quite liked her. Whilst she would hit me over the knuckles for not tidying my desk, she'd also take great delight in finding fault with the clever kids who weren't naughty. No one got out of there alive, metaphorically. She left me alone most of the time, as she realised I was beyond redemption. I was also lucky in that I had measles, chicken pox and just about every other disease in the year she took us. My sisters had so terrified me of her, that I'd pray to be ill and give the lord thanks as I was struck down. Then there was sister Gabriel. What was a sin? I well recall the worst sin of any. A boy in the year above me had been caught playing kiss chase in the playground. His punishment. Sister Gabriel called a special assembly. He was made to kiss her in front of the whole school. I'm not sure if he was given 'The Bat' as well, but to be honest I'd have rather been given the cane for a year than face that humiliation. No one ever played kiss chase again. The Daughters also ran an orphanage on the site.  IN the first year of juniors, the orphans were allowed to join us in lessons. This seemed like a massive deal. We kept our distance, we were worried that being an orphan might be contagious. When I was about eight, my mother contracted cancer. I was told by a cousin that she would die and I'd be put in the orphanage. I was horrified. My friends would no longer talk to me. 

I was so upset that as my Dad drove me up to visit her, I asked him. He nearly crashed, burst into tears, sobbed uncontrollably for five minutes and then gathered himself. "No son, nothing and no one will ever take you away from me". I asked him if Mum was going to die. I will credit my father with never lying to me. He said "The doctors say that she has almost no chance of survival, but I believe that if we pray for her every day, she may pull through". She survived. Something she attributed to drinking eight pints of Guinness a night, rather than our prayers. What that should have taught me was compassion for the orphans, but in truth, all it really did was terrify me that I may suffer the same fate. The thought of being stuck there for 24 hours a day was beyond awful. 

Catholic guilt. When mum came out of hospital, there was general rejoicing. This had not been expected. Everyone said to me that I must be over the moon that my Mum was getting better. Yes I was happy, but in truth I was happier that the threat of going into the orphanage had gone. I don't recall how or why, but one day I woke up and realised that I was a very selfish person. I wasn't pleased that my mum was getting better for her. I was only pleased because it meant I wasn't going into the orphange. It is interesting. If you see any pictures of me before Mum had cancer, I almost always have a cheeky smile. After, I always have a furtive and guilty look. The whole experience scarred me. The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. I could never share this. 

So what am I trying to say?  I will return to this topic again, but there are many things that disturbs me about this period of my life. I owe a great debt to my Father for showing me 'the right way', but my memories of school and the whole edifice that was the Church in the 1960's casts a shadow. That an institution run by a religious community can inspire such terror in an eight year old child is surely something to be concerned about. There are many things emerging about the orphanage that are beyond just 'a little concerning'. The view of us as kids was that it was a bad place, but it goes far beyond that, as Mrs Angry has documented. But it goes way beyond that. The whole dysfunctional mindset that Prayer is punisment, that we have to confess to sins we haven't even committed and that we should feel guilty for merely wanting to survive is something I think all Catholics of my vintage need to address. I have not had the awful experience of abuse that some have had. But how can we move on when a Church that makes kids confess for 'lying to their sister' refuses to confess it's own sins and do the appropriate penance of making reparations. The victims of the abuse that has happened to not need 'penitent' abusive priests saying an Our Father for them. They need the Church to do what it should have done from the day it came into existence. To support the weak and to be honest. Only then can we truly move forward. 

Normal service will be resumed tomorrow

Today, I am really in no frame of mind to blog about Barnet or nice things. I had to accompany a friend to Oxford Crown Court to provide some moral support today. Not being sure of exactly when the case we were attending was taking place, we sat through all the mornings business (our case was the last before the recess for lunch). The case before the case we were attending rather disturbed me. A young man was being sentenced for the rape of  a 9 year old boy. The rape occurred 10 years ago and had apparently had a devastating effect on the victim. The perpetrator was 19 at the time, with learning difficulties and a troubled home life.  As the judge heard submissions from the prosecution and the defence, we heard how the police had asked that an order be placed on the perpetrator. We then heard from the judge that he felt that it wasn't appropriate for the police to request such orders and that it should come from a lawyer. We heard from the defence of the terrible effect that incarceration would have on the perpetrator. How he would become institutionalised if he was inside for too long. We heard how he'd not been convicted of any attacks in the intervening 10 years and we heard how he'd had a job.

I have a nine year old son. How would I say someone should be sentenced for such and attack. Personally I wouldn't take the chance. I would say that raping a 9 year old boy is a lock them up and throw away the key sentence. How did the judge see it? Six years and his name on the sexual offenders register with a life ban from working with children.  Oh well, at least a few people will sleep more soundly in their beds tonight - and for the next couple of years until he's released.

Normal service will be resumed tomorrow. I just need to have a long, long shower, a large number of beers and maybe a few cigarrettes (I don't normally smoke). I need to wash every trace of that courtroom from me, kill every braincell that looked at the face of a child rapist and inhale some smoke to hide the taste of breaths of air I took which were breathed by the same monster. I drove back from Oxford with the phrase "Anal penetration of a nine year old boy" rattling around my head.  Some things are just too vile to really deal with at all. Sorry for sharing any of this.

Brian Coleman's crass attitude to Paedophile Pornogrophy

This clipping is taken from an article in todays Ham and High. The Mayor of Barnet, Brian Coleman was talking about political bloggers. The article was a follow up of the Standards case where he was found guilty of breaching the London Borough of Barnet's code of conduct.

So Brian Coleman believes that people like me, who write blogs about politics should be regulated in the same way as Paedophiles. Let's think this through. What are bloggers? They are members of the public who use a service such as this to share their views on topics of their  choice with the general public. That may be football, music, sport or politics. Now on my blog, I talk about local politics. There's nothing said on my blog that you won't hear in pubs, dining rooms, on the bus or on the tube, as people talk about local politics. We live in a free society where if I want to say "Brian Coleman is doing a lousy job" I can. It's not like China or Nazi Germany where you get imprisoned, beaten up or murdered for criticising "Public figures". All this blog does is say these things to a wider audience. It's called Free Speech. I'd suggest that if Brian Coleman doesn't like it, he's not a very good Tory.

Let's compare this perfectly legal activity which has formed part of our national culture, with Internet Child Porn, as Brian Coleman seems to think they are equally serious issues. Unlike people discussing Barnet Council, people abusing children is illegal. To give you an example of how most parents feel about the issue, let me share a little story with you. 8 years ago my best friend and former business partner was in the death throws of pancreatic cancer. He'd had his leg amputated and was a couple of days away from death.He asked me to visit and said he wanted to discuss an important issue. When I entered the room, I could see he was in agony. I asked if everything was OK. He replied "Rog, I've stopped the morphine as there's something I needed to discuss and I wanted to be completely with it". He went on to explain that he was worried that when he died, his wife and children may be targeted by predatory paedophiles, who befriend single mothers to get to their children. He explained that he wanted me to keep an eye on them and if anything untoward ever happened to notify his brothers, who would deal with it as a family matter. He didn't care about the pain, just his kids.

Brian Coleman states that bloggers should be regulated in the same way as internet child abusers,
for what? for saying "Brian Coleman spends too much public money on taxi's"?

I would never, ever trivialise the issue of child pornography. It as a wicked evil in our society. I cannot believe that a senior Conservative politician such as Brian Coleman can think it is on a par with someone saying "Brian Coleman is a Lousy mayor". Of all the blogs I've written about Brian Coleman, the one he finds the most objectionable, the one he finds most beyond the pale and the one he (Mis)quotes in the Ham & High is this one (CLICK HERE it isn't rude). I consider it to be a rather frivelous and mild bit of political lampoonary, on a par with much of what Simon Hoggart may write in his Guardian Diary. Brian Coleman clearly considers that it is on a par with Child Abuse, based on his comment. He either takes himself far, far too seriously or alternatively he has no concept of how vile the man in the street finds kiddie porn. Either way his statement is in shocking bad taste. Yet again, he shows himself to be completely out of touch with the concerns of the average family in Barnet.

I have this question for Brian Coleman. Does he think that Policemen should be pulled off Child Abuse cases to arrest bloggers for saying he's useless at his job? If he does, then he's worse than we all thought. If he doesn't, then he should issue a public apology for belittling the victims of such a terrible crime.

The effects of beating children

Those of you who follow my blog will have seen that I recently have made several posts about a blog which, in my opinion, was promoting the beating of children.

A comment was left on that blog which, to me at least, summed up the matter. I thought the comments were worthy of repeating. I know that some readers feel that my reaction to these comments were OTT, but the less socially acceptable beating children is, the less we tolerate the use of violence to control children and the more people use other strategies to discipline children, the less cases like babyP we'll have. To the proponents of smacking, I'll say this. If the line is drawn in the sand with a zero tolerance of violence, then there are no grey areas and no excuses. When I left school in 1981, I lived in Stockholm for a while. I was surprised to find that the Swede's had banned corporal punishment decades before. Were their schools overrun by thugs? No. I'll accept that in some schools discipline has deterioirated since Corporal punishment was abolished, but I don't believe that this is due to the new rules. I just think that it was the result of poorly administered schools. If it was down to the ban on corporal punishment, then every school would be overrun by thugs.

Anyway, here's the comment.

"My Dad beat me and it did do a load of damage. I used to think 'whats that for' see he beat cos he could, bad day at the office dear, oww never mind beat da kid.
WTF.
In the end the beatings made me give up, give up on them as parents and me.
Im lucky I got out
Think it through...ya approving of someone twice ya size beating on ya.
Sorry I can't go with da 'this is so post ironic middle class babble, beating kids is wrong and dats the end of it.
Ya post sucks"

Couldn't really have put it better myself.

By the way, I'm just back from a weekend football tournament at Butlins in Bognor Regis with the Watling FC Under 9 team. Ten boys went with the team. All were a credit to their parents, a great time was had by all. These are things I want to define my relationship with my kids, not fear of being bashed.

The UK Hotline for reporting illegal website content

Those of you who read my blog detailing blog content I felt to be inciting the violent abuse of children will be aware that a reader felt I was just being humourless. Now I clearly felt that my comments were justified. I'm no expert on the subject, so I said that I'd refer it to the NSPCC and if they felt I was just being a po faced twat, then I'd donate £100 to whatever the author of the offending blog suggested. I reported that I would keep readers of this blog updated. I got the following response from the NSPCC :-

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Mr Tichbourne

Thank you for taking the time to contact the NSPCC with concerns for children.
It has now been decided that it would be more appropriate to pass the concerns you have detailed on to the Internet Watch Foundation www.iwf.org.uk as oppossed to CEOP.

Thank You for contacting the NSPCC

Yours sincerely

Margaret Dooley
Assistant Children Service Manager
24 hr Helpline
NSPCC
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I would suggest that all readers of this blog bookmark www.iwf.org.uk, just in case you stumble upon inciteful or illegal content. If you are not sure, then refer. They are the experts and they do what is required. I feel that if the NSPCC feel strongly enough to refer this website, then my comments have been vindicated. I hope that the author of the offending blog pauses for thought and removes it. I am sure he can be funny without inciting violence against children, if he puts his mind to it.

Child abuse

**** This blog has been edited since first published. The author of the blog which I refer to in it has claimed that by reproducing his rantings, I've breached his copyright. As I'd generally support an artists copyright and protection of revenue, given my job, I've removed the paragraphs. I've taken the view that I really can't be bothered arguing with said individual as on reflection he really has nothing to say which I want to propogate. I've added his now deleted comment to the end of the blog, as I don't want his name appearing. Personally, I don't mind my blog being quoted as I stand by what I say and if it portrays me in a poor light so be it - anyway, I've tried to paraphrase it so you get the drift ******

Recently I deleted several comments on my blog. I didn't do this because I took exception to the comments. I did it because when I looked at the blog which the author of the comments was writing I found it to be offensive in the extreme. Having had another look at the blog today, I thought that I really should further clarify my views on the subject. First let me quote the NSPCC's website on the subject of child abuse.

Definition

Physical abuse includes hitting, shaking, kicking, punching, scalding, suffocating and other ways of inflicting pain or injury to a child. It also includes giving a child harmful substances, such as drugs, alcohol or poison. If a parent or carer reports non-existent symptoms of illness in a child, or deliberately causes illness in a child, this is also a form of physical abuse.

The NSPCC believes that hitting children is wrong whatever the circumstances. It is emotionally and physically harmful and sets a bad example to children. What's more, it isn't even a very effective way of encouraging better behaviour. The NSPCC has a range of advice on managing children's behaviour without smacking.

The effects on children

Physical abuse can have long-term effects on a child's health and development. It can cause physical injury, brain damage or disability and may lead to children developing emotional, behavioural or educational problems. For some children, these difficulties can continue in adulthood. For example, people who were physically abused as children may have problems with personal relationships and they may be more likely to treat their own children abusively. The child's age, the frequency of the abuse and how long it has been happening, all influence how much they will be affected by it. But sometimes a severe isolated incident can affect a child as badly as on-going abuse.

Now I'm not an expert on the subject, but I believe the NSPCC are. I fully accept their definition.

The author of the blog posted a rebuttal of me today (in amongst another blog on a different subject). He felt unfairly labelled a supporter of abuse of children for simply having a humourous "Terry Thomas" like picture of a child being beaten. He felt that pinkos ow had it in for him (ie Me).


Well firstly I do not consider a picture of a child being physically restrained and smacked to be funny - full stop. Secondly, that was far from the only thing on the blog entry which I found to be offensive. The title was "SMACK UP MY BRAT". The point he made was that

In the good old days kids were beaten with all manner of impliments yet we still won two world wars. He made the point repeatedly that the kids weren't smacked they were properly beaten.

The crowning glory was along the lines that :-

Kids today are lazy fat & useless & if they were all given a good beating everyone would be much happier.

Is this funny? I don't think so. Even if it is meant to be, there are people who will take it as a rallying cry to justify things that I don't think can ever be justified. I actually think that the author of this post is inciting violence against children. Whilst I know for a fact that inciting violence against racial or religious groups is illegal, I'm not sure about this weakest and most defenceless group in society.

The way to prevent future "Baby P" cases is to educate parents and carers that violence against children is never acceptable. As to the threat of a cease and desist notice. I really hope one arrives because that will tell me who to report to the police for incitement. I think that a test case would be a very good idea in this field. Maybe then next time someone suggests that a "beating", as described above, is a positive part of parenting, they may think twice. The author of this post isn't just advocating a mild slap, but a fully fledged beating.

I'll let you draw your own conclusion as to whether I'm a humourless, pinko, namby pamby parent or just someone who believes in treating children with decency & respect. Oh and as to the charge that beatings are the way to combat childhood obesity, one of my children is a National swimming champion, with high self esteem and great self belief. I honestly don't think this would be the case if I'd beaten the living daylights out of my children. I certainly don't want them to grow up thinking that their father is a violent psychopath.

Here's the authors comment which I deleted :-

Mr Tichborne, it has been brought to my attention that you have copied a substantial portion of an original work and reproduced it here. As a writer, I take breaches of copyright very very seriously. While I frankly don't care about your opinion on my work or your consideration as to whether it is humorous or in bad taste, I do expect you - as a creative - to respect the rights attached to my work. You have excessively quoted my work without due credit or permission, and as such are in breach. I would therefore respectfully ask you to remove it immediately. If you chose not to, I will most certainly take further action. However, hopefully you will show respect for my legal rights.

Thank you.