If you have a son never send him to an all boys’ school. These institutions, which, needless to say, scar the landscape of that strange island called the United Kingdom, can screw you up big time. My all boys’ school was like a microcosm of Nazi Germany. All male classes, unsoftened by female influences, became a survival of the fittest jungle. By this I mean that a ‘fuehrer’ naturally emerges, not by virtue of his finer morality or upstanding character, but by dint of physical prowess or his ability to impose his will on the collective. That ‘leader’ then acquires a circle of sycophantic supplicants. The group becomes a reflection of that person’s power. Those who dissent or fail to win the leader’s favour are ostracised.

Little boys are also natural anti-Semites because, by the same token, they tend to single out anyone who does not conform to the ‘brute is best’ role model. Unless Jewish boys are exceptionally sporty or incredibly charismatic, they are liable to be stigmatised. Jewish schoolchildren TEND to be more intellectual and studious than the rest. There is a good reason for this. It is called persecution. This means that parents often inculcate in their children a will to succeed - a thirst for higher knowledge. But this can make Jewish schoolchildren too conspicuous. At my school, anti-Semitism was not exclusive to the boys either. Even staff were known to make anti-Semitic utterances. This, I hasten to add, was 25 years ago. Hopefully, the situation is a little better now.

Defendants of segregated schools say that study is best conducted away from the distractions of sex. Crass nonsense. Sex is an ever present part of adolescence; its suppression simply does not work. Survivors of single sex schools can be emotionally damaged and lacking in inter-personal skills.

Boys’ schools also encourage grotesque sadism. We were forced to take part in cross-country runs, come rain, shine or minus nine. No exceptions. Disabilities were frowned upon. As a stammering student of English, French, Spanish, and German, every lesson of mine involved oral work and reading aloud to the class. No exceptions and no dispensations, even though my father went to the school and discussed the matter.

Boys who were not particularly robust so hated the prospect of compulsory rugby sessions that they would do anything to get out of it. Elaborate notes - some actually concocted by the boys themselves but purporting to be from their parents - were drafted to exempt themselves. If I have an abiding image of my schooldays it’s of a boy who looked like a fragile twig freezing to death on the sidelines of a snowy pitch before being thrown into the rugger scrum.

Some would say all this was character building. I’m not so sure. I actually came away loathing some of the people there with a passion. So here is a warning - don’t let your child put his hand in the fire and get burnt. Avoid these barbaric places. Life’s too short.