APPARENTLY, next Sunday is Mother’s Day or, as it was known when it had some sort of religious connotation, Mothering Sunday. I say apparently because it’s an occasion which tends to pass unnoticed at Chez Clement, as it is some years since either of us had a mother with whom we could celebrate.

The only reason I mention this is that if Sunday is Mother’s Day then – for wholly different reasons – last week should be known as Children’s Week, although on reflection that would be unfair on the vast majority of the

Island’s youngsters – the majority who actually know how to behave.

First we had that disgraceful incident at a shop in the middle of town in which upwards of two dozen louts ran riot – almost certainly a revenge attack because one of their low-life clones was caught stealing at the store the day before. No doubt the thief will get two pats on the head rather than one because he also head-butted the staff member who detained him.

Actually, I suppose we should give thanks – always hoping it hasn’t yet happened – that the shop assistant hasn’t been banged up for assaulting the thief by detaining him. Stranger things have happened here during the last few years.

Then we had another mob of no brains running riot down at the Harbour, despite the fact that when ordinary mortals like me want to look at the facilities that we’ve provided with our taxes, we find it would be easier to get into the vaults of the Bank of England (not that there’s a great deal to be found there, by all accounts), and they managed to do fifty grand’s worth of damage without bumping into anyone in authority or, as far as we know, starring in one of the home movies regularly churned out by the proliferation of CCTV cameras we have about the place.

And then, of course, top of the bill and straight from the London Palladium – or was it the Victoria Palace, it’s so long ago now – not to mention being brought to you at enormous expense (almost a grand a week each at the last count), we have the 21st century version of the Crazy Gang, otherwise known as a significant percentage of that lot in the Big House, many of whom masquerade as members of a government.

Leaving our elected representatives aside – just for a moment, in case they stupidly believe they’re off the hook – and talking of the thugs who ran riot in Bath Street and down at the Elizabeth Marina, we’ve already had some calls for a return to birching offenders or turning a blind eye when avuncular old policemen give them the proverbial around the ear.

Quite frankly, such talk is a waste of breath and should not be entertained simply because everyone with more brain cells than a dandelion knows that it just ain’t going to happen.

What should happen, but almost certainly won’t, is that if any of these mindless morons is convicted, the current restriction on identifying criminals below a certain age should be removed and the parents should be brought before the court to be bound over to guarantee their brat’s good behaviour for a given period of time, preferably three or four years, with a considerable amount of money put up as surety.

I understand from those who should know about these things that both these sanctions are open to the courts but are rarely, if ever, used.

If there is one thing likely to bring about a measure of parental control, it’s the prospect of the brat and the parent having their names splashed right across the front page – that and the prospect of the parents having to cough up cash to guarantee good behaviour.

Well, precious little else seems to work, does it?

As to the Crazy Gang in the Big House, along with most other people – there remain the conspiracy theorists (Elvis Presley and Buddy Holly are working as elderly barmen at the Smugglers down at Ouaisné) who probably blame Frank Walker for last week’s shambles – I now absolutely despair.

I can find no excuse at all for Deputies Trevor and Shona Pitman. They know the rules and despite likely protestations to the contrary they are both smart enough to work out how to get their message across without breaking those rules. The fact that both chose not to speaks volumes as far as most people are concerned.

States Members – with I understand possibly just one, perhaps two exceptions – are employed by us and therefore have a contract with those who elected (and therefore employ) them. Implicit in that contract surely should be an undertaking to act responsibly and do the job according to the rules, just as someone employing a driver expects him not to deliberately break the traffic laws.

It is up to those who put Mr and Mrs Pitman where they are to determine whether or not they are in breach of contract.

As to Senators Stuart Syvret and Jimmy Perchard, with one small proviso only they know for certain who is telling the truth and who is lying. That proviso relates to Senator Syvret’s assertion that other Members sitting nearby must have heard the comments Senator Perchard is alleged to have made. If such is the case, then those Members have an absolute duty – no ifs or buts – to make that known to Senator Syvret.

The other part of my proviso concerns the tape recording of all States proceedings. I have no doubt at all that technology exists to pick up much of what is said by Members as an aside or perhaps to the person sitting next to them. That’s food for thought if anything is.

AND finally … What to do with Fort Regent? What indeed. The only thing which is not going to cost us money is to actually give a long lease to something like Center Parcs and tell them to get on with it.