David Cameron demonstrates his technique. Photograph: David Hartley/Rex Features
I find myself in the uncomfortable position of agreeing with David Cameron today when he says he thinks we should let children drink alcohol at home (catch up, Dave, they're already allowed to and they do, too).
I don't think raising the age at which they're allowed to try it is the best idea - all that's to be gained by banning the precious liquid in the home is to further elevate its glamorous 'forbidden' status - a red rag to a teenage bull - driving kids to shady street corners or more dangerous places to consume it.
But I suspect Dave and I are coming from slightly different places on this one. When they're old enough (I'm guessing about 13), I imagine Cameron's kids will accompany their dinner with a cheeky little Bordeaux - or something - as brilliantly pictured here.
That would all have been a bit too middle class round our way. Being born and raised in Scotland, obviously I was force-fed whisky as a child (no, really - my gran was known to give me some to shut me up at bedtime when she came to stay; I'm not sure if the current law would classify that as "emergency use").
Later in life I had the obligatory Babycham at Christmas (I don't think barely alcoholic cans of shandy really count, do they?). Then I graduated onto Budweiser, which, in Dumbarton in the 80s was unbelievably cool. Honestly. My friends and I guzzled it in my bedroom, all of us clunking past my mum with a few little tins stacked up in carrier bags.
My parents took the view that they'd rather I was drinking beers in my room with friends than out wobbling vulnerably around the local park late at night in all my drunken innocence, and I think they were right. What about your early drinking stories? Merrydown, anyone?
