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>>Like JamesM I also received 9 strokes of the Isle of >Man birch in the 1960s. I did not get the opportunity >to take down my trousers. I was hauled over table by >three policemen and one of them pulled down my >trousers and pulled up my shirt tail, leaving my >buttocks exposed to the world since, like a lot of >boys then I did not wear underpants. I was more >concerned about the police and the other people in the >room seeing that I did not wear pants than worrying >about the pain that was to be inflicted on me. >The first stroke took all the air out of my lungs and >left me numb. It was about the last two strokes that >I realised that my arse was on fire. The birch cut >my right buttock open and one of the police offered me >an old towel to dry the blood but I refused. I was >ordered off the island and when I got back to Ireland >I had to soak the troiusers to get them off the area >where the blood had dried in. It was a severe lesson >for me on behaving as the tiny scar of the cuts is >still there and the pain lasted for several hours.

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