STEPHEN LEWIS joins Freddy Fit for a fun-filled fitness workout just for kids.

THE children of Class One at Sand Hutton Church of England Primary School look a little subdued when they troop into the school gym to find two strange men waiting for them. As well they might. One of the strangers is a well-built former British karate champion wearing a white T-shirt and blue shorts. The other a scrawny Evening Press journalist with a spreading waistline, brown and orange T-shirt and off-pink striped shorts.

Despite the presence of their own teachers, the children's eyes widen with alarm.

Then ex-karate champion Rob Loft goes into his routine. He pops a whistle into his mouth and gives a couple of brisk toots. The children perk up. He goes into a crouch, opens his eyes into a clown's wide, innocent gaze, and gives the children a crisp double thumbs-up and another shrill toot. There are a few nervous giggles.

Then, still wide-eyed, he bounces sideways, gesturing with widespread arms and giving a series of blasts on his whistle which the children quickly interpret as instructions. They begin to spread out into rows. Rob opens his eyes even wider, gestures and gives another blast. The children move backwards until they're spread out all across the gym.

Next, Rob does a graceful twirl, arms spread out. The children look at him, wide-eyed. Rob gazes back, eyes even wider, twirls again, then gives a couple of toots, as if to say "now you do it!" The children do. Rob mimes happy, gives a couple of pleased toots, then wiggles his bottom. The children, giggling now, follow suit.

For the next five minutes, without saying a word, he leads them through a brisk warm-up of wiggles, twirls and bounces, punctuated with expressive blasts on the whistle and those eyes, one moment wide, the next expressive with a clown's comic disappointment. The children, giggling and fascinated, follow him.

Rob stops, toots, and gestures palms-down for the children to sit. Panting and giggling, they do. Then, at last, Rob speaks. "Does anyone like playing football?" he asks. Several hands shoot up, and a few eager voices cry "Me!"

Wide-eyed, he nods, and looks at them. "Tennis?" he asks. More hands and excited voices. "Playstation?" A storm of hands and voices.

Clown-like, he nods. "It's excellent work for fingers and thumbs," he says, miming using a computer games console. The children laugh. "Does anyone play for two hours?" he asks, eyes wide. Hands go up. "Eight hours?" Eyes even wider. A couple of faltering hands go up.

He adopts a clown's crestfallen look. "I had a boy who played for eight hours," he says. "He walked like this!" He does an exaggerated Donald Duck walk, crook-backed and labouring. The children hoot with laughter: but the point has been made.

Welcome to Rob's Freddy Fit fitness workshop. Over the past year and a half, the York-based six times former British karate champion has taken the workshop to something like 180 primary schools across Yorkshire. He combines his wide-eyed, whistle-tooting clown persona with stirring rock music - Elvis Presley predominates - to which the children taking part cavort, twist, dance and generally have a brilliant time.

But there's far more to Freddy Fit than just an hour's vigorous, fun-filled exercise. Rob cleverly weaves in a host of healthy lifestyle messages, too, about diet, exercise and the perils of smoking and laziness.

To help him, he has created the character of Freddy Fit - a clean-living, active, healthy and somehow still hyper-cool schoolboy hero. It helps that Freddy has been drawn by Des Ford, who has worked on big-name animated feature films. With Des's help, Rob has produced a brightly-coloured backdrop for his workshop featuring Freddy in action mode, as well as some of the creatures he battles - including Mr Rot, his teeth eaten away by drinking too many fizzy drinks, and the Smoke Goblin, a hideous, smelly, brown-stained creature who magically illustrates the perils of smoking.

Freddy and the characters also feature in a glossy workbook children get to keep after the workout, which contains a wealth of information on diet and exercise, all targeted at primary-age children.

The great thing about Freddy Fit, says Sand Hutton Primary headteacher Rob Calvert, who has manfully joined the children in their workout, is that it gets across lots of messages about health and fitness in a fun way that children can relate to.

"It is a lot of fun for them, which is really important because if they are having fun they are learning," he says. "It's certainly getting them to think about activities they can do to keep their bodies fit."

Rob, 44, admits he loves leading the workshops. "When you have got 80 kids, they can lift the roof off, and it can be a real job getting them out of the class!" he says.

You can see why. Back in the gym at Sand Hutton Primary, the four to seven year olds of Class One are having a whale of a time, despite the presence of the pink-faced, sweating journalist jigging away in their midst.

Rob is leading a lung-bursting dance routine to the tune of the pop anthem Hey, Baby!

He crouches, then sweeps his arms up over his head as he sings "Heeeeeeey!" The children, shrieking with delight, copy him.

He shoots his arms out to the sides, palms out. "He-ey, baby!" he sings. The children follow suit.

"Ooh, ah!" sings Rob, dropping to his haunches again, hands on the ground in front of him. Twenty-five small bodies do the same.

They repeat, faster and faster to the throbbing beat, until suddenly Rob cuts, and gestures to the children to sit down. They flop, panting but happy.

"Did you know?" he says, adopting that crouching, wide-eyed clown's stance again, "that there are 14 teaspoons of sugar in one bottle of Coke?"

He shakes his head with that wide-eyed look as the children indicate that no, they didn't know.

Rob points to the picture of Mr Rot on the backdrop behind him. He pauses dramatically, wide-eyed. "You could end up with teeth as rotten as his!" he says.

"Euw!!!" the children squeal.

I can just imagine them going home and when their mum asks if they want a fizzy drink, saying: "Freddy Fit says it makes your teeth rot!" Mission accomplished.

u To find out more about Freddy Fit, call 01904 778551. Rob is willing to run workshops at primary schools anywhere in Yorkshire. They are so popular that he now has four 'presenters', including himself, who run the workshops, with two more 'in training'. But he still needs more qualified fitness instructors to lead workshops. If you are interested, call Rob on the number above then send in your CV.

Updated: 09:19 Monday, November 24, 2003