PATERNITY testing kits are now available in chemists' shops. DNA detector equipment in the hands of the general public raises issues that will have to be addressed. Norman Lamb, the Liberal Democrat spokesperson on health, was first in to bat. He said: "There's an absolute need for the government and the Human Tissue Authority to consider fairly urgently whether the emergence of this requires some rules about how and when it should be used."

Mr Lamb, being a health spokesperson but not having his finger on the pulse, misses an area of real concern. If trailer trash can do their own DNA testing, they won't have to go on the Jeremy Kyle programme. This could be the last nail in the coffin for the financially beleaguered ITV network. Daytime television will be a poorer place without those philosophical debates conducted by Jeremy and Trisha, right. Our lives will be emptier for not finding the answer to such conundrums as "Is my dad or her dad the real dad of my fiancée's love child?"

There will always be a demand for celebrity DNA conundrums. The public will want to know, for instance, the answer to this week's big question: is Mark Lester the biological father of Paris, daughter of the recently deceased singer Michael Jackson? A Mr Brian Oxman, spokesman for the Jackson family, says of Lester's claim: "Mark is a straight shooter. When he describes the process by which he was asked to donate sperm, I believe every word he says." Personally, I don't care if Oliver Twist or the Artful Dodger is the biological father. But it would be nice for wee Paris herself if Michael Jackson was her dad.

It has to be said that Jackson did not always take the most straightforward route to parenthood. His second son, Prince Michael Jackson II, was born from an egg purchased from one woman and incubated inside another. And where does Prince come into the picture? Is he not a different singer altogether?

There would be a reasonable case for allowing Prince Michael Jackson I, Paris Michael Katherine Patricia Jackson and Prince Michael Jackson II to buy a few DNA kits to find out who is who parent-wise. They might also get some new names while they're at it. The Sons of Michael Jackson Formerly Known as Prince would be a start. Paris might want to know how she ended up with a boy's name and two perfectly ordinary girls' names as well.

The worst scenario is PMJII, who is apparently now known as Blanket. This may be because he often had a blanket over his head. Or it may be because the "mother" bit on his birth certificate was left blank.

It is no joke that a person should be uncertain of his or her genetic origins. A simple answer would be to have an individual's DNA tested and recorded along with the birth certificate. Such a register would certainly come in handy for future episodes of Who Do You Think You Are?

It may sound a bit Big Brother (as in George Orwell, not the TV show) but a DNA register would provide certainty in a society where families tend to be somewhat of a pickn'mix nature. There is an apocryphal (we assume) story of a single mother who was being pressed by the Child Support Agency to identify which of her many sexual partners was the father of the child. If you eat a tin of beans, she is reputed to have replied, how do you know which bean caused an episode of wind? I think she actually said "made you fart", but we don't use the word fart in this family newspaper, do we?

DNA testing may be bad news for Jeremy Kyle. But it would bring some cheer to the bloke down the pub buying drinks all round and handing out cigars. He's celebrating the fact he's not a father.

A FATHER was in the news last week because he was also a Father. The manner of Father Peter McDonough's announcement that he had a four-year-old son was what made it truly newsworthy.

The Roman Catholic priest used sign language to tell a deaf congregation that he was leaving because he had fathered a child. He had sinned, and then he signed that he had resigned.

There are serious issues when a Catholic priest gives issue, and we will come to them in a moment. But I can't help wondering what the sign language is for telling people you have had sex and a baby was the outcome. Presumably it's more subtle than a bit of pelvic thrusting followed by a rock-a-bye-baby motion.

Father Peter is profoundly deaf and had served the deaf community in Manchester and Salford for 27 years. He has quit to concentrate on his responsibilities as a father with a small F. His bosses in the Catholic church said he had taken the "personal" decision to step down after a "time of reflection". They didn't mention that his having a family might be slightly deleterious to his career prospects as a Catholic priest.

He is now looking for employment. Maybe he should consider a Bosman transfer to the Church of England or the Orthodox priesthood. Both have concluded that marriage can be as sacred as celibacy when it comes to serving God.

THERE is shocking news that Dennis is no longer a menace. In a new series for the BBC children's channel, the tearaway has had his weapons decommissioned. No catapult, peashooter or water pistol. Dennis will not bully Walter the softie. No getting slippered by dad. His dog Gnasher has also been neutered: no biting and no destruction.

The boy in the red and black jumper is now Dennis the slightly mischievous. Which sounds kind of pointless. It's like Minnie not being a minx. Wullie not being oors, yours or a'body's. Boab not being fat. Eck not being wee. Souter not being soapy. It's like Dan not being desperate, or giving up cow pie in favour of a Mediterranean diet. It's like Maw Broon not having any weans after Hen and Daphne.

Which gives me an idea for a contemporary version of The Broons. Daphne is a single mother. She's awa doon tae Semi-Chem for a few DNA testing kits. Ye'll never credit who the faither is.