She didn’t stop misbehaving; seconds later, she felt the slimy trickle of Heinz running through her hair and down her face.

I felt compelled to tell this story after reading an article about how parents lie to their children. It’s often to get them to do something they wouldn’t otherwise do: eating veg, for example. Carrots help you see in the dark, don’t they? And spinach gives you forearms like Popeye.

For me, those little white lies are fine – just simple psychological methods that mums and dads use to bring their kids into line. It’s ultimately for their own good. By the time they realise that bread crusts don’t make your hair curl, or that fizzy drinks don’t instantly melt your teeth, they’ll be too healthy to care.

But there is one type of lying that I see quite often which really winds me up: those hollow threats that parents give.

“If you don’t eat your broccoli I’m going to throw away all your toys.”

“If you don’t start behaving we’re going home right now.”

“Talk to me like that again and you’ll go straight to bed.”

More often than not, sentences such as these are uttered by parents who have absolutely no intention of carrying through with the threats; and it doesn’t take long for the child to realise that there’s no way that mum or dad are going to throw away a small fortune in toys, or that they have no intention of getting in the car and driving home. Suddenly, the threats are useless, and the child simply ignores a parent that is becoming increasingly frustrated by their child’s ill-behaviour.

But it goes a little deeper than this: a child who has parents that do not follow through on threats loses respect and authority for them. Trust could also be lost – if a parent can’t follow through on a threat, how does the child know that promises will be fulfilled?

The bottom line is this: if you’re going to threaten your child with something, for goodness’ sake follow it through. I’ve seen it done – mums or dads who pick up screaming kids and march them home even though it’s ruined a whole day, knowing that rewards will be reaped in the long run. So next time your child misbehaves after you’ve threatened to pour beans over their head, just do it. Yes, you may have tantrums, and you’ll have to grind tomato juice out of the carpet: but you can be safe in the knowledge that, for the child, it’s lesson learned.

This rather bizarre news caused a storm and split opinion; some calling for reason and perspective, and others baying for the perpetrator’s blood. (“Let her know what it’s like to have someone, or in this case, a mob, much bigger and more powerful than you, do with you as they will.” said one member of a Facebook group, no doubt with a sour expression.)

The old lady was finally identified as Mary Bale, a 45 (!) year-old spinster who gave probably the best excuse I’ve ever heard for a ‘criminal’ act.

“I don’t know what the fuss is about. It’s just a cat. I did it as a joke because I thought it would be funny. I never thought it would be trapped, I expected it to wriggle out.”

No matter what side of the fence you’re on, there’s no getting away from the fact that the response to this event has been extraordinary. The fact is, we Brits love our animals. One in two households (47%, to be exact) own a pet: from your run-of-the-mill dogs and cats, through to tortoises, snakes, lizards and rats. So, perhaps understandably, many react strongly when a beloved animal gets harmed, or placed in danger.

But could we be letting our love of all things fluffy or scaly blur what is really important? In 2009, the NSPCC (National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children) received a total voluntary income of £119,122,000 from donations, legacy payments and community fund-raising. The RSPCA (Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) received £129,251,000 – over £10m more. Yes, an animal’s life is important, but surely we should be putting more money into protecting humans, innocent children that have been born into an abusive life? Maybe it’s just me who feels this – a matter of opinion.

Here is my opinion, for those who are interested: everybody over-reacted. Let’s lay out the facts. Despite it being a bizarre act, and one that could be perceived as cruel, the 4 year-old tabby was unharmed, and probably slept for 14.5 of the 15 hours she spent in the smelly interior of a wheelie bin. Calling for Bale to do time in prison, or undergo psychiatric testing, is a bit much. Plus…everyone knows cats go in the grey bin.

Clegg was talking about the government’s plans to reform paternity leave legislation, describing it as “unfair” on those who wanted to “take proper time off with their kids”. I’m all for increasing the amount of paternity leave that dads can take, although it’d be really great if they could bump up the Statutory Paternity Pay from £124.88 – and that’s only for people who earn over a certain amount. After a while Sainsbury’s basics tortilla chips taste like verrucas.

But one thing he said I disagree with.

Speaking from his own experience as a father of three, at a public meeting in Croydon, he said: “You take two weeks off at the beginning, bluntly, when the baby is barely aware of your existence and you’re of least help.”

I can only imagine from this statement that as his wife dealt with a screaming newborn, frantically wiping away thick tar-like poo from pink buttocks, Nick Clegg stood nearby, hands stuffed in pockets, making circles in the ground with his toe whilst looking incredibly bored. Maybe he slobbed in front of the TV, belching and watching EastEnders with his hand wedged in the front of his waistband as Miriam raced up and down the stairs to soothe a baby that won’t settle, frantically shaking formula milk onto her forearm to test the temperature and using her other wrist to wipe sweaty fringe hair from her eyes. Perhaps he scurried into the nearest toilet clutching a copy of The Daily Mail at the first sign of post-natal tears, claiming that the stress of politics makes his “bowels dicky”.

Of course the father can be helpful during the first two weeks of a baby’s life. Sure, the baby is barely aware of his existence, but let’s be honest – all it cares about is nipple. (It’s a quirk of life that, during teenage years, most boys’ minds are occupied with the same thing.) But the father’s role is not about looking after the baby, as much as spending time looking after the mother, who is bound to be exhausted and sore. It’s about supporting her, spending time with any other children you may have or taking  your baby out for a stroll to give your partner precious time to put her feet up and relax. It’s about running out to the shops at midnight to buy three packs of heavy flow maternity pads. It’s about holding your baby, looking at him or her, and strengthening that father-child bond that will last a lifetime.

I was impressed with Clegg when he participated in those pre-election debates. But if he’d said then what he’s said now, I’d have paid David Dimbleby to scurry up to the front and give him a stinging backhand slap.

This week’s prompt is ‘A Photo I’m Proud Of’. I used to be quite a keen photographer, and even set up my own website, but it’s kind of taken a back seat as I concentrate on my writing. I’ve taken loads of photos that I’m particularly proud of, but one recent photo sticks in my mind.

This is Kenilworth Castle, in Warwickshire. I can’t really put my finger on why I like it so much: maybe it’s the way the light pours through the crumbling windows and spills onto the grass; maybe it’s because I think I’ve done a fairly decent job in trying to convey the strength and authority of this impressive building, which gives a sense of the respect it commands. Maybe it’s just me.

Am I allowed a second? This photo isn’t brilliantly composed, or well lit, or particularly artistic, and it was taken on my BlackBerry. But whenever I think of it I smile.

My lil’ guys.

This week I have been fortunate enough to have received a number of lucrative business offers from my friends in Africa. All I need to do is claim some money that’s rightfully mine.

• Shahrizat Rashid wants to give me $19,000,000 after one of his clients died of a heart condition in 2005. They say some people have a heart of gold. This old biddy had a heart of platinum.
• Ail Musa is kindly giving me $800,000 simply as compensation for not replying to a previous email of his. He says I have “sincerity, courage and trustworthiness”. And here’s me thinking that not replying to emails was rude.
• Dennis Davies is offering me an undisclosed sum purely because I share the same surname as his client. He asks that, if his offer is “of no appeal to you”, to delete his message, adding “do not destroy my career because you do not approve of my proposal.” I wouldn’t dare.
• Panic! Dr Sanusi Lamido has emailed me to say that a diplomat sent to the UK to oversee the transfer of $7,500,000 has misplaced my address and is stranded at “my” airport. To help him out, I need to give him my address (natch), but also a copy of my ID, my mobile number, and a myriad of further personal details. But that’s cool. I’m gonna be rich!

I may give a few quid to charity, but then again, I’m loaded. I could buy all the maltreated pets if I wanted to.

Anyway, I’m busy. Here’s a fiver: now shove off.

($7.72871)

Today, across the UK, thousands of A-level students received their results. Cue the cliché photographs: pretty young blondes jumping whilst clutching handfuls of paper; beaming pupils clutching one another in an awkward first-time embrace; and the inevitable nine year-old who has achieved an A grade. Little git.

So much onus is placed on getting good grades, that those who have under-achieved can believe that their lives are ruined; destined to spend their lives crouched in a subway eating fleas. Some students become so distraught with poor grades that they take their own lives.

But a quick trawl of the internet reveals that success and qualifications are not intrinsically linked. Some of the most successful and wealthiest men and women on the planet today left school with little more than a poor report card and the seed of a great idea. Here are just some of them.

Alan Sugar: He flies around in helicopters for fun, points at quivering hopefuls and has a cute little beard. But “Mopsy” – his nickname as a child – left school at 16 with £100 of savings, and sold car aerials and electrical goods out of a van. 47 years later, he’s picked up a couple of pensioner mates in Nick and Margaret and is worth a tasty £730 million.

Richard Branson: He’s got floppy hair and a silly beard, but he won’t care. He’s worth £2.6 billion, and owns the biggest Virgin in the world after Susan Boyle. His academic performance at school was poor, and he left at sixteen. Do you think he cares about A-levels? Does he heck. He’s the 236th richest person on the planet.

Duncan Bannatyne: This ‘Dragon’ could probably buy Scotland with his wealth, currently estimated at £320 million. But they’d have to give some pretty good reasons, as well as providing a sound profit forecast for the next five years. It’s not always been so cushy, though: Duncan left school at 15, got thrown out of the Royal Navy at the age of 19 for almost lobbing an officer off a jetty as a dare, and spent eighteen months in a detention centre. He now owns, amongst others, a chain of health clubs. I doubt he’s a member himself, though: his six kids probably keep him on his toes.

Deborah Meaden: Another ‘Dragon’, Deborah Meaden left school when she was 16 and attended Brighton Technical College to study business. It worked. She’s worth 40 million Great British Pounds now, and regularly terrifies sweaty entrepreneurs whilst sitting in front of a wad of cash. I hear she gives nice hugs, but charges £100,000 a time.

Gordon Ramsay: This foul-mouthed chef is a worldwide celebrity, and has been awarded a total of 12 Michelin Stars. He also has one of the wrinkliest faces in the world. After sustaining a knee injury that ended a promising football career, he found himself without enough O-levels to join either the Navy or the police force. One can assume he turned to food for comfort, and it paid off. He owns a 69% stake in Gordon Ramsay Holdings Ltd (a business worth £67m), can cook a mean beans on toast, and is instantly recognisable to millions of people.

There’s bound to be more, but I’m whittering. The point is this: if you’ve had good news today, then well done. Make them count, use them wisely, and there’s no doubt you can find yourself on the various rich lists that circulate from time to time. If you didn’t do so well, and your grades spell ‘DUDE’, ‘DEED’ or a variant thereof, then don’t give up hope. There’s no contest between qualifications and experience. And, if worst comes to worst, you can always sell aerials out of a van. Worked for Big Al.

Or the time when I got sent to the headmistress’  office for laughing when Greg Knowles picked his nose and picked the findings into Kelly McStay’s hair. Epic injustice.

But one event recurred every year that bred a multitude of bad memories: the student photo.

The process begins with having to sit on an uncomfortable plastic chair in front of a horrible pastel-coloured screen, with a photographer clutching a massive camera desperately trying to get you to sit at an angle in an attempt to avoid the ‘convict’ look.

The pain is two-pronged. A week or two following the photographer’s visit, your class teacher would enter the room clutching a small pile of photographs. These would be doled out to each pupil, swiftly followed by everyone wanting to see each other’s mugshot. I clutched mine to my chest, and would only show others if under immense pressure. For good reason.

The face only a mother could love.

Then you have to show your parents once you get home. It’s clear by their expression that they’d rather not have your ugly mug on their mantelpiece, but they delicately balance it there anyway, noses wrinkled, photo pinched between thumb and forefinger. You can’t be sure, but you have your suspicions that when you’re out of the house, they put your photo face down and breathe a sigh of relief.

“Aah, you must be the back of my head. We haven’t met.”
I don’t know about you, but I always find it mildly awkward when the hairdresser shows me the back of my head after I’ve had a haircut. Maybe it’s because I rarely see the back of my head and so it’s a bit weird, maybe it’s because I’m not sure how to react (enthusing “It’s FABULOUS!” is a bit camp). Whatever it is, I end up just nodding, watching my reflection nod with me, and squirm in my chair.

Nearby Discipline
When a parent tells off their kid for being naughty, especially when you’ve been provoking them to mischief in the first place. You could own up, and take the blame. But you don’t: instead, you just avert the gaze of a child who’s now crying.

Toddler Approaching
This often occurs in the playground, or at a creche/nursery arrangement. A toddler catches your eye and waddles over to you. It has sticky hands, a snotty nose and a sagging nappy, and it wants to touch you. You eye it warily; all you want to do is grab the top of it’s head and face it in the opposite direction – at the very least, give it a shove – but you know full well that somewhere in the vicinity the toddler’s parent is watching. Now it’s smeared Marmite all over your knee, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

That Log Ain’t Mine
You’ve entered the cubicle of a grotty public toilet, closed the door, and turned to find that the previous occupier has decided not to flush their Yule log, which invariably is sitting proud of the grimy loo water. Nose wrinkled and breath held, you leave – just as someone else is about to enter. You have two choices: you can either splutter and protest that the snake ain’t yours, and make yourself look guilty in the process…or you can run. Nine times out of ten, you choose the latter. And you don’t even wash your hands.

That Wasn’t Me…It Was…Ummm
You’re in an open plan office. You have wind. There’s no-one around.

Checking over your shoulder, you let a little one go. It makes a slight whooshing sound, like an old lady sighing.

Suddenly, everyone is approaching your desk…and there’s no-one else to blame. Not even the old lady.

After unpacking, we headed down to the local park so my son – Isaac, aged 3 – could stretch his legs and burn off some energy having been strapped into a cramped car for the last few hours. When we reached the play area, I caught sight of a slide. It was a simple thing, the gleaming metal resting on a couple of old concrete drainage sections; but it brought back fleeting memories, of standing in the same place looking at the same slide – the same concrete. They blinked in front of my eyes for a split second, but it was all I needed.

As Isaac climbed the steps, I saw myself do the same twenty years earlier: daft centre-parted blonde hair, no front teeth, huge gold-rimmed glasses that covered most of my cheeks. And now, here I was, with children of my own. Two decades or so, gone in a flash.

We left the park half an hour later, and as we did so I looked back. The sun glinted off the slide for a moment; it was as if it was winking at me, for old times’ sake. So I winked back, and carried on walking.

Omar Thornton

Three days ago, Omar Thornton – a 34 year-old driver for a beer distributor in Connecticut – walked into work and opened fire on his colleagues, killing eight and injuring two. As the police closed in, he called his grandmother – and the police – to say goodbye before turning the gun on himself.

The media, of course, descended onto the story, and widely reported that Thornton was due to attend a disciplinary hearing. He was accused of stealing beer, and it was likely that he would be asked to hand in his resignation. It was a troubled employment suffered by Thornton at Hartford Distributors; he had suffered racial discrimination, but felt that his supervisors had failed to act. This, coupled with his looming unemployment, drove him to murder and cowardice.

This is not the first time that a life has been taken as a result of disciplinary investigations by an employer. In July 2009 Anjool Malde, a City stockbroker, climbed over a railing on the rooftop of the prestigious Coq d’Argent restaurant in London. A glass of champagne in hand, he leapt to his death.

His suicide shocked close friends, who described him as “completely normal” just hours before his death. However, further investigations revealed clues as to why this 24 year-old with the brightest of futures decided to take his own life; his employers, Deutsche Bank, had asked him two days prior to his death to leave work early as they investigated claims that Malde had posted comments in an online forum pretending to be someone else. If found guilty Malde could have lost his job – and, with it, his reputation. The mere thought, it seems, was unbearable.

Anjool Malde

In both cases, the media emphasised that Thornton and Malde were suffering problems at work, and implied that this is the catalyst for their actions. However, this could be misleading. “It is highly unlikely that there is a cause and effect relationship between the people concerned being under investigation at work and the violent actions that they took,” says Dr Laura Taylor, Associate Head of Psychology at Coventry University. “What is more likely is that a third factor led to both their problems at work and their actions. This could be one of a number of factors, including mental health issues, financial worries and personal issues.”

This makes sense. There is a link in the chain that goes before workplace issues; individual problems that grow and mutate until they cause the individual to falter in their career, perhaps manifesting itself through theft or – in the case of Malde – one moment of weakness, of naivety. The actions of their respective employers to carry out investigations or undertake disciplinary procedures proved to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

This, in turn, begs a question: should employers seek out the root cause for an employee’s misbehaviour, instead of simply reacting to the breach of policy? Under the Health and Safety at Work Act 1974, all employers have a duty of care towards their employees: that is, they must ensure that the workplace environment is free from hazards to an employee’s mental and physical health. But no laws mention anything about emotional care. Maybe if employers sought to establish why an individual was struggling at work, instead of simply reacting to the manifestation of their problems, instances such as those concerning Thornton and Malde would be avoided.

Many employers do maintain a genuine interest in the welfare of their employees. Some, unfortunately, are lacking in this respect. Whether or not the tragedies caused by Thornton and Malde could have been avoided by employer assistance and compassion as opposed to cold disciplinary procedures will never be known. But employers should recognise the fact that they are an important influence in the lives of their employees, and actively seek to establish if there are any underlying reasons for an individual’s problems at work. Otherwise, it could all go so horribly wrong.