A strict mother has written to tell about the mackintosh and pyjama discipline she imposes on her naughty boy.

Dear Wincy

You asked me to recount my thoughts on the disciplinary methods I impose on my son Jonathon.

I can say without any hesitation that it is unashamedly traditional.  My hope is that it helps other like minded concerned mothers adopt a similar approach in their own approach to home discipline.

Matters first came to head as my son Jonathon turned fifteen and became involved with some badly behaved boys. It  soon became apparent to me that I had no alternative rather than to regress Jonathon back to a time in his life when mummy knew best.

My first action was to introduce a smacked botty for even the most minor of infractions. I facilitated this mode of discipline by ensuring Jonathon wore traditional school boy style short grey trousers that ensured slapping his legs in public was made  much easier.

I have also introduced some of the behavioural standards one would commonly see in years gone by. I now expect  Jonathon to address me as "mummy dearest" at all times.

In addition, any of my frequent guests must  now  be recognised as "aunty" and other ladies he may come into contact with as "Miss".

Most importantly I have now introduced a strict traditional dress code.

Although his school allows sweat shirts and polo tops to be worn optionally, I prefer to send him to school wearing a smart blazer, shirt and tie. Unfortunately they don't allow short trousers but as soon as he's home, this Mummy ensures he's put back into his short trousers right away, plus knee length socks and brown sandals. The grey shorts are unfashionably short and not at all like the shorts that are fashionable today. They're fitted with an elasticated waist, making it easy for these to be lowered when I need to administer a smacked bottom which is frequent.

This is probably a good time to reflect on the first visit to the traditional outfitters to purchase his new clothing. His behaviour had gradually deteriorated until I'd run out of patience. When I was told that he'd used bad language in the presence of a friend of mine I decided that action was required. For the first time in many years I pulled down his jeans and underpants and smacked his bottom. The punishment took him aback and Mummy was definitely in charge from that moment onwards. This gave me the confidence to introduce the punishment dress code  that I'd been considering more and more in previous weeks.

So, making him hold my hand all the way, we paid a visit to the sort of traditional outfitters that are sadly now a dying breed.  A small bell tinkled as I pushed the shop door open and the attentive shop owner and her young assistant  asked if they could be of assistance. I told Jonathon to sit down and behave himself while, out of earshot, I outlined my requirements. I then returned to Jonathon and pushed him into one of the large changing rooms and proceeded to remove his clothing. His initial response was to resist but a slap across his bottom showed him I was in no mood to discuss matters.

One by one, clothing was passed to me through the curtain. One by one, I proceeded to dress him just as one would a small child. First a short sleeved collared shirt, which I buttoned up to the neck. Second, and much to his amazement, a pair of short trousers in schoolboy grey, along with the matching socks. The short trousers were hitched up high, the shirt tucked into them neatly. A grey v neck jumper followed, and a smart blazer too. Finally a pair of Startrite brown, T Bar sandals.

His complaints grew louder by the minute but a series of slaps across his bare legs kept him in check. At this point I opened the curtain and led him into the shop where we were greeted by the two assistants who had helpfully ensured that my requirements were perfectly catered for. The senior assistant made a point of commenting how smartly he was dressed, and wasn't it a pity that other children weren't dressed like this anymore, whereas the younger assistant who couldn't have been more than seventeen smiled at him knowingly. I then proceeded to tell him loudly that these clothes were to be worn from this point forward and that he could wave goodbye to his jeans, t shirts and trainers. It was at this point that I noticed the rails of raincoats assembled in the corner and realised that Jonathon would need appropriate top coats.

Following a brief discussion with the senior shop assistant, the younger one was despatched to locate a navy blue gabardine mackintosh. When Jonathon was greeted by this perceived monstrosity, he threw what I can only describe as a tantrum when I told him that this was to be his new everyday coat. It was below the knee, double breasted with a belt and buttoned to the neck and was a perfect complement to his new outfit. However he was having none of it and let out a series of complaints outlining why precisely he wouldn't wear it. The senior shop assistant held the mackintosh up to him and told him not to be such a naughty and silly little boy and to put the mackintosh on at once. A casual remark from her that he was going the right way for a smack was all I needed and without a moment's hesitation I led him by the hand into the changing room, and pulled him over my lap to administer the soundest of smacked bottoms. The noise was to carry clearly into the shop, but this Mummy was not for turning to say the least.

We returned to the shop assistants and taking the gabardine mackintosh I pulled it over his arms and shoulders. Turning him around to face me I proceeded to button it up in front of everyone as if he was a small child. His eyes said that he wanted to protest, his head said otherwise, and he stood there meekly while I fastened the top button and tightly fastened the belt. Asking him to stand up straight, I judged that the mackintosh was a little on the short side - knee rather than full length. The senior assistant suggested a girl's mackintosh, as these were cut longer than the boys. The look on his face was a picture, but this was a splendid idea, and before he knew it, Jonathon was dressed in a full length girl's mackintosh, buttoned to the neck.

Asking the assistant whether they had a suitable nylon pakamac that could be worn over it, she returned with a wide selection of both boys and girls, suggesting that the girls style would be more appropriate so that it fitted over the long mackintosh underneath. Needless to say this idea was seized upon, and Jonathon found himself being buttoned up into his traditional navy blue nylon pakamac.

I decided that Jonathon should wear his new clothing home, so having entered the shop dressed in the trappings of the 21st century, he departed in short trousers, knee length socks, T Bar Sandals and collared shirt, topped off by the hated mackintoshes - the gabardine and the nylon pakamac. He looked as if he'd been transferred from the 1960's, and had a long face to match. I took him by the hand having adjusted his clothing one last time, and marched him home for the first day of his new discipline, punishment and dress code regime.

I  then decided to reinforce his new disciplinary regime by introducing early bed times. One problem was his night attire. As with his day time  attire I had become lax and allowed Jonathon to wear unsuitable clothing to bed each night, by that I mean

t- shirt and sweat trousers. His new bedtime was to be set so that he was tucked up in bed by 7.30. I determined that to implement this successfully he must revert back to wearing traditional little boys pyjamas and that necessitated another visit to the outfitters to purchase said pyjamas.

Once again the bell tinkled as we entered the shop with Jonathon holding my hand and wearing his fully buttoned up girls mackintosh. The shop assistants recognised him immediately and were delighted to discover the purpose of my visit was to procure some new little boy pyjamas for Jonathon.

A selection of traditional winceyette pyjamas that buttoned to the neck were unfolded and laid out on the glass counter. We had quite a discussion on sizing and style until the young assistant suggested Jonathon should actually try a pair on. Much to his chagrin I unbuttoned his mackintosh and selected a particularly appropriately coloured set which was covered in the sweetest little teddy bears. Jonathon was reluctant to out them on but a few slaps to his bare legs persuaded him otherwise and as he emerged from the changing room wearing his teddy bear pyjamas the shop owner and her assistant made such a fuss of him that he blushed quite red. We left the shop with four pairs of delightfully childish pyjamas which invariably means Jonathon is dressed in his pyjamas ready for bed by 6.30 and tucked in by 7.30. Of course in the event of bad behaviour this bed time can be brought forward. It's not at all rare for him to be tucked up in bed with a sore botty and without his supper by 5.30 if he has been particular naughty.

I hope my account serves as an example to other mothers out there who are thinking about imposing clothing disciplinary measures on their wayward offspring.

Yours faithfully

Etta