Mother looked very stern. “Mark, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt this time – but I tell you this: next time you hit your little sister, I’m going to pull down your trousers and pants, put you over my knee and thrash you within an inch of your life with the hairbrush. Do you understand me?” In my cousin's school, kids always did PE in just their underwear (boys and girls together). In my friend's school, everyone wore shorts and t-shirt and kids would sit at the side of the room and watch, if they forgot their kit.

No, I called today because my first session just ran out. The man said that I should automatically receive...

All the words looked so official, having been typed by the school secretary. And signed by her teacher in ‘Quink’ blue, fountain pen ink.

His spanking thing is unlikely to go away. He could have extensive therapy, but he probably won't want to.I doubt very much it happened. This is the year 2010. If you were caned 50 times, there would be nothing left of your rump; it would be in shreds.

Karen liked the strange feeling she felt (in a certain in a certain intimate area) at being exposed. The leaving of school behind her and the journey home was sullen. The man in the bowler hat frowned at her as if he knew. The walk from the bus stop to her lovely cottage was heavy and slow. Two of Mummy’s friends saw her and nudged each other. Was that a snigger? I gave it mainly to the older children – mostly boys, of course! Very few girls. I can’t remember anyone younger than eight having it. And it had to be pretty serious – hitting another children, danger to life and limb, insolence to their class teacher, that sort of thing. If we went out for a meal (a rare treat in those days), our behaviour had to be exemplary:the worst sin of all was to annoy other diners. Rather different to nowadays when kids seems to take over the whole dining-room!One day, I was out playing in the garden. Mum was there too and talking over the fence to our left-hand neighbour, who I called Auntie Deirdre (the writer of the other story has already pointed up this rather peculiarly British tradition). She was in her 50s and had two grown-up children. Another component released in the body during this act is endorphins – also known as the happy hormone – and you’ll also see a boost in cortisol levels, which reduces feelings of stress.

Viv of Ginger Pop wrote:I swear that I buy the Grauniad more often than the Daily Wail, but the latter does have some good online stories... I’m one of four siblings, having an older brother and two younger sisters. I was brought up during the 80s and 90s in a loving but very strict home. Father worked very hard to make ends meet and put food on our plates. We were not rich – in fact, we were often only just above the breadline – but we never went without and we always seemed to be happy. Once again, I got the command: “Get them down!” Refusal having got me nowhere, I tied to cry, beg and apologise my way out of the situation, asking for another chance and promising never to hit Katie again. Simon was around two and a half when he first felt my hand across his bottom. My wife Polly and I had agreed prior to his birth (with that characteristic naive optimism of first-time parents) that spanking was old-fashioned and unnecessary; in fact, frankly, we felt that it was cruel and barbaric.I saw red. Before I had time to even think about what I was doing, I had sat down on the kitchen chair, lowered my son’s pyjama trousers and flipped him over my lap. Obviously, up until this point Simon had no experience of this type of formal punishment but he still could sense the trouble he was in and was already wriggling around, trying to get up from the confusing and frightening position in which he found himself. I simply wrapped my left hand around his slim waist, raised my right hand and brought it down hard on his little bottom. Boy, was I wrong! The demise of her spanking brush seemed to anger Mother even further, and reaching down, she removed the hard-soled sandal from her right foot. Then she proceeded to thrash me into the next week. Oh shit! Why today, why does she need a hug? Today of all days when I have let her down.” Thought Karen. Bare, no. But I did witness a girl leaning against the wall, in the corridor, getting spanked in her panties, with her skirt around her ankles, as my 3rd grade class filed past. In Ohio. In 1963. One teacher was the perpetrator,