With all the publicity there's been about how much teenagers drink, I'm led to ask: "Where do schoolchildren get the money to indulge in this expensive vice?"

Some might think from burglary, but no, that can't be right, if it were most of our children would be out every night wearing masks and striped jerseys, and carrying swag bags, instead of being at home with their computers, playing with Lara Croft, skulking in chat rooms, or sweating over their homework.

Could teenagers be earning their drinks money by working at Saturday jobs? Some, perhaps, but from what I've seen of the kids who have paper rounds, or work in shops at weekends, they're usually more mature and sensible, less likely to be influenced by their irrespon-sible peers, and unlikely to be wasting their hard-earned cash on illicit drinks.

So, what does that leave us with? Too much pocket money is the obvious answer. Of course what children get will greatly differ, depending on the wealth and indulgence of their parents, but whatever the amount it should be earned, and parents need to know on what their children spend their allowance.

But however we control our children and advise them against the dangers of over-indulging in alcohol, most of them are going to want to drink. Alcohol is the modern day forbidden fruit. Teenagers drink to rebel. It's not the awful taste of some of the beverages they try, but the thrill of hiding away in their bedrooms, garages, shop doorways, back alleys, or behind hedges to do something they shouldn't be doing, the danger of getting caught, the joy in disobeying their parents.

Better, perhaps, for children to be introduced to alcohol at an early age, to be shown how to drink responsibly, and how to enjoy a glass of wine with a meal. It seems to work well enough with most of our fellow Europeans.

Alcohol has almost always been with us, and is likely to remain, to continue contributing to the downfall of the disheartened, frustrated and weak-willed, until we all take heed of the threat its abuse presents to our mental, physical and sexual well-being.

ISTopped voting Conservative after Supermac (Harold Macmillan) quit with prostate problems, and while the Tory Party put up the potential leaders they do, I am unlikely to vote for them again. But to be fair, after the last election, I might never again vote for any party.

The parties that might be trusted to bring about worthwhile improvements to our lives have little chance of overcoming those who can convince the majority of the electorate that there are only two real choices. Both of which are primarily concerned with money - our money - and how they propose spending it.

Of all the candidates who have thrown their hats into the Conservative leadership ring, I favour Ken Clarke. With him you get what you see. He's his own man, doesn't compromise his principles to achieve cheap popularity, but sticks to his guns. For that I can forgive him smoking Hamlets, even Cuban cigars, being a self-confessed boozer, and wearing unkempt suede Hush Puppies. Though if he wants to cut a dash at the Dispatch Box he'd do well to rid himself of his paunch, unless, of course, he's trying to develop a Churchillian persona.

Contender Miguel Portyo is something else, I could never trust a man who shakes his own hand while he smiles like a hungry crocodile.

Television advertising is overpoweringly loud and often trite and tasteless, particularly those awful ads for motorcars. Why do they almost always feature suggestively-clad young women? Can anything be more sexist, or debasing of womanhood?

If cars have any sexual connotations, they relate only to the representation of phallus symbols for today's generation of car-crazy young men.