TWO weeks ago in Japan, a seven year-old boy was left in a bear-inhabited woods as punishment for misbehaving during a family outing.
Having spent the day throwing stones at cars, Yamato Tanooka’s parents decided that the youngster needed some time alone to reflect on his actions.
Leaving him behind, they continued their journey homeward, presumably ignoring his plaintive cries as their car receded into the distance. Of course, it was all just a prank on their part; they weren’t really going to leave him behind. They were going to come back in a few minutes, once he’d learned his lesson.
But when they eventually returned, he was nowhere to be seen.
Cue a wide-scale manhunt involving almost 200 people, sniffer dogs and a helicopter.
With wild bears, heavy rains and treacherous ravines to contend with, Yamato’s prospects looked bleak. But, mercifully, after six days of searching, he was found alive and well, lesson well and truly learned.
He should consider himself lucky though, lucky that he wasn’t born to Irish parents. Because, although we don’t have bears in this country, we do have vengeful Mammies; ones capable of ruining the lives of their offspring at the drop of a hat.
So, in honour of Yamato, here are the five deadliest punishments that every Irish chilld will, at some point, endure in their formative years.
Early to bed
The most dangerous weapon in any parent’s arsenal, being sent to bed early is a punishment meted out to only the very boldest of children. Most commonly utilised during the bright summer months, this form of retribution sees the miscreant exiled to bed before the end-credits of Home and Away have begun to roll. Once there, the child must lie in silence, the sun streaming in through the wafer-thin curtains, while they listen to the sounds of their playmates running wild in the early-evening sun.
Finish it
We may be in the middle of an obesity epidemic, but that doesn’t make eating your greens any easier. And while Mammies today offer up more varied menus than their predecessors they still, on occasion, revert to type. Consumed by sentiment they serve up a plateful of a child’s worst nightmare: Bacon and cabbage – invariably accompanied by floury spuds the size of your baby sister’s head. With expert use of condiments some children may be able to eliminate the lesser evils put before them. But most, if not all, will still be sat at the table four hours later, a soggy, stubborn serving of cabbage separating them from their freedom.
You’re not going
Favoured by those who prefer to play the long-game this, in theory, ensures a prolonged period of good behaviour from Junior. Not to be confused with the ‘Santy won’t come’ mantra rolled out by desperate parents everywhere from November onwards, this threat is tangible, and sometimes all too real. The first step is the offering of a carrot, usually coming in the form of a holiday, a family outing, a party, some sort of event to be looked forward to in the not too distant future. Then, once the child has become suitably excited, they are reminded, ad nauseam, that said carrot will be taken away, permanently, at the first sign of mischief. It’s not unknown for parents to drag this one out over entire summers, tactically booking holidays for late August to ensure maximum servitude.
If Johnny jumped off a cliff
Some parents just seem to take pleasure in their children’s misfortune. How else can you explain the fact that all of your friends have phones, iPods, PlayStations, ear-piercings, short-skirts, football jerseys, new runners, and you don’t? Surely that can’t be right? The only course of action is to explain the situation, calmly and with great patience, to Mammy and Daddy. Once they realise that Barry, Brian, Brendan and Breda, ALL have mobile-phones, and that you are the ONLY one that doesn’t have one, they’ll understand the situation perfectly. Won’t they?
Share and share alike
If, by some miracle, you’re good enough to receive some sort of gift, whether from the aforementioned Santy or a benevolent aunt, you’re going to make damn sure you enjoy it, it’s your gift and by God you’ve earned it. Just one problem: your snot-nosed brother, or, in his absence, that annoying kid from next door who always seems to appear whenever you get new stuff. In an ordinary just world you’d be left to enjoy your new treasure alone, savouring its delights from the comforts of your room. But in the world of the cold, uncaring parent you must share your prize, allowing some other undeserving soul to place their clammy mitts all over it, thus ruining it completely.
