After reading the much-publicised account of the trials and tribulations of the Welsh head teacher who was convicted of assault for slapping a disruptive ten-year-old boy, reported to have "learning difficulties", and a couple of days later watching the film, Mr. Holland's Opus, the story of a teacher - a sort of latter-day American Mr. Chips - who inspired his students to learn and love music, I had a dream.

Nothing special about that, a night seldom passes without me having at least two. But it must have been the tangential connection between the two stories that triggered my dream about Mr. Holland, or "Old Dutch", as he was called out of earshot, one of the few teachers I still remember.

We were a co-ed class of 13 or 14-year-olds, in our last year at school. None of us had what are now called "learning difficulties"; but some were backward, because their schooling had been disrupted by wartime conditions. Others were, briefly, inattentive, but generally we were well behaved and gave Old Dutch our rapt attention. For Mr. Holland was not a man to brook slackness or any kind of dissension in his class. What he said went without argument and we knew better than to try his patience, and anyway, he kept his cane within easy reach.

The only class-member we had who might today be thought "disruptive", was Gerald Rumsey, a spoilt Billy Bunter-type who, because he attended an "elementary" school, was a great disappointment to his upper-middle-class family. He made himself unpopular with his peers by buying the sweet rations of poorer children.

He would craftily eat sweets in class, without being noticed by Old Dutch. But once, trying to answer a question thrown at him, he choked and spluttered on a treacle toffee. Mr. Holland asked him to hand over his sweets. "You can't take them away from me," Rumsey cried, waving his arms at Mr. Holland. Old Dutch reached for his cane and ordered him out to his desk. Instead, Rumsey retreated to the back of the classroom; Holland followed, chasing him around the aisles and out into the assembly hall, lashing the squealing Rumsey's Bunter-like bottom with his cane. During this time the rest of us sat quietly in our seats revising the lesson. It was a much-subdued Rumsey we saw next day. And he never again ate sweets in class.

This anecdote might lead you to think that I advocate physical punishment for badly behaved schoolchildren. I don't, neither do I believe teachers should be responsible for instilling discipline in their students - surely that is best done at home.

US writer James Baldwin (1924-87) was not far off the mark when he philosophised: "Children have never been good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them. They must, they have no other models." For children are what we make them, and however much we lecture them they'll imitate a role model of their choice, be it a favourite sports personality, pop artist, TV soap star, or film actor. Sadly, these days, chosen role models do not always provide the best examples of behaviour.

As someone who spends teatime each weekday counting down with Carol Vorderman, I was miffed to learn that the Independent Television Commission had received complaints about her being "over-exposed".

Frankly, if I were unattached and 30 years younger I'd like to see a lot more of her; a BASSist (born again sex-symbol) with intelligence, wit, charm, good looks, and a £2 million pay packet, what more could a man wish for?

Although I'm fairly good at word games; am familiar with Shakespeare's work, and know who killed Billy the Kid, I'd need to brush up on my times tables, wear a toupee, and develop a passion for Gipsy Creams to stand any sort of chance with her.

But a guy can dream, can't he?