Let's do it for kicks

''Sensei,'' he cried, ''I am an empty cup! Fill me with your knowledge!'' The venerable master looked at him out of the corner of his eye, stroking his goatee beard thoughtfully. He jabbed his chopsticks in the direction of the distant hills and spoke in a

quiet, reflective voice: ''Away hame, Grasshopper son. You're beginning tae get up ma bahookie, by the way.''

A Scottish Mr Miyagi? Not quite the stereotype we're used to, perhaps, but it does illustrate the fact that, as far as martial arts are concerned, stereotypes no longer apply. With the diminutive black-belt Gail Porter giving contestants a chance to batter each other into submission on national television in the new BBC2 series Masters of Combat (tonight, 6.45pm), and martial-arts movies doing big business at the box office, the men and women of Scotland seem to have developed a fetish for less delicate ways of keeping fit.

Martial-arts clubs have reported a rise in memberships during the past year. Health clubs are increasingly providing opportunities to whack your training partners on the head with impunity (or a stick), and it seems that everywhere you go somebody is talking about how their jeet kune do has immeasurably improved the tone of their buttocks.

In Scotland alone there are hundreds of different martial arts, ranging from better-known ones such as judo, karate, and ju-jitsu, to the more exotic-sounding kali, eskrima, and tukido.

With this in mind, The Herald has taken the momentous decision to send a young, entirely expendable reporter to see exactly what is going on in the mysterious world of martial arts. My mission is to glean some useful knowledge from practitioners, experience some martial arts at first hand, and stay alive as long as possible.

The first question to be asked seems self-evident: why on earth would anyone want to do a martial art when they could be at home watching Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon on DVD? ''Martial arts are like diamonds,'' responds Scottish Ju-Jitsu Association coaching director Robert Ross, rather justifying martial artists' reputations as poetic, mystical sorts.

''They have a number of facets. Those facets range from lifestyle aspects to philosophical and psychological aspects. They not only improve your fitness, they can help a person look inward when they want to challenge their beliefs. In doing so, they may just help a person become a little more confident in their everyday life.'' More prosaically, Ross, a seventh dan in ju-jitsu, says he believes the daily reports of violence in our newspapers may also have prompted increasing numbers of people to look outside the more traditional pursuits, while programmes such as the Jackie Chan Adventures cartoon on Fox TV have made an impression on youngsters.

The nationally recognised bodies for judo and ju-jitsu in Scotland have both reported a noticeable recent increase in members, with an increasing number of women and youngsters signing up.

All of which persuades me to the extent that I decide to don my flip-flops, gird my loins, and take the next step along the road to enlightenment. It is a Monday night, and I am to go to Krauseworld on Cambridge Street in Glasgow, to take part in what is billed ominously as jeet kune do (JKD) cross training for beginners. Let battle, as they say, commence! Krauseworld, run by brothers Mike and Steve Krause, is a gaudily-coloured gym that specialises in a wide range of martial arts. It is one of the few places in the UK that offer training in JKD, the strategy devised by Bruce Lee and developed by his protege Dan Inosanto, who taught both the Krause brothers.

''We are involved in goal-setting,'' explains Guru Mike, a personable chap who can kick his leg as high as Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge, while at the same time managing to look nothing like her whatsoever.

''It helps our students see how much they are progressing and makes them feel good about themselves. We believe it can have a real effect on people's lives outside the gym. If you take the energy you use when you're kicking and punching, and put it into your general life, you can achieve much more.''

After changing, my 20 or so fellow practitioners and I go through a doorway marked ''Thrillseekers this way!'' into an orange-and-blue gym with punchbags strung from the ceiling. Following a little light stretching, Guru Mike starts the session by having us ''assume the position'', raising our fists in the classic boxer stance and dancing around lightly on the balls of our feet. When Guru Mike shouts out ''forward!'' we have to dance forward one step. When he shouts ''backwards!'' we step backwards, and so on. It seems remarkably easy, and I wonder how on earth anyone can get fit doing this.

One hour later I can hardly stand. I have punched and kicked myself to a standstill. My arms ache, I am drenched in sweat, I feel close to vomiting. There are blisters on my feet that are making me walk like Charlie Chaplin. My sorry demeanour is in direct contrast to Lorraine Harrington, a 21-year-old student who is soon to embark on her training as a nurse. ''I used to think I was fit,'' she says, ''I trained as a lifeguard when I was younger, but when I came here I realised it was a different level.'' Like many of the doctors, policemen, and other public workers who have taken up martial arts there recently, she believes the experience has been invaluable: ''It's built my confidence and my communication skills. And with all the attacks on NHS staff you hear about, it'll be good to know I can defend myself if I need to.'' I decide it is time to move on to calmer, less sweaty, pastures.

In the unlikely setting of Lansdowne Parish Church Hall on Great Western Road in Glasgow, 15 disparate people in everyday clothes are moving in slow motion. A man is moving among them, talking occasionally in a calm, soothing voice. It can only be tai chi chuan.

Tai chi is what some aficionados refer to as a ''soft'' or ''internal'' martial art, although others disagree with making any such distinction. Although it can be used to great effect as a method of self-defence, many practitioners prefer to use it as a form of meditation. It is usually taught as a sequence of movements called a form and also via a method called ''push hands'', which, if done properly, can have truly staggering results.

Stig Quist, 27, an electrical engineering student at Strathclyde University, is one of the biggest chaps you'll ever meet - so heaven knows the sort of results he could get from push hands. He became aware of tai chi as an extension of his interest in Buddhism, and now takes part in a beginner's class every Monday night.

''The main idea is that it gets your energy flowing, and I definitely believe something happens. The first lesson, as a warm-up, we were taught a simple movement, and you could actually feel your hands getting warmer, a bit like if you had pins and needles in your fingers.'' His teacher is Jan Kauskas, a softly-spoken and impressive man who believes that tai chi changed his life. ''I had the attitude that life was a bit of a fight, and that's a terrible way to have to live, because you're always on edge.

''Tai chi showed me that life wasn't really about fighting your way through, it was more like dancing your way through.'' Kauskas became so serious about his tai chi that he travelled to New York to study under legendary master Wolfe Lowenthal.

''You'll always get people who think that their teacher was the best, and although tai chi supposedly started from one village in China, there are competing interests,'' says Kauskas. Generally it's just handbags at 10 paces. The

main debate in tai chi is whether it should be competitive. The people who believe it should be are becoming stronger, particularly in the west.''

As martial arts become more widespread, so, too, do dodgy practitioners who give their clubs fancy names like ''Rising Stork Bing Bong Wee Karate'', and sit back and watch the money, and injuries, roll in. Experts stress the importance of finding a reputable club.

The last word, then, must go to the beginner Stig Quist, if only because he's a big lad and it seems politic not to offend him: ''You have to be careful. Don't be fooled by impressive-sounding names - make sure the teacher is the best you can find. Get in touch with the official bodies for whatever martial art you want to do, and work out which one is best for you. Investigate, investigate, investigate.

''Most importantly, start a martial art for the right reasons - not because you're a wee ned who wants to kick someone in the face.''

And that, Grasshopper, may be the most valuable lesson of all. If only because, if you're anything like me, and you kick someone in the face, your blisters may burst.

Note: judo, karate, and ju-jitsu are the only disciplines with government-recognised Scottish bodies. For other disciplines, it is recommended that you contact the British associations: Scottish Judo Federation on 0131 317 7270; the Scottish Karate Board on 0141 633 1116; Scottish Ju-Jitsu Association on 01382 458 262.

Aikido: visit www.bab.org.uk for details. Tukido: contact Neil Buchanan, 07855 258372; British Tae Kwon Do Council: tele 01895 420722; Kendo visit www.kendo.org.uk; Jeet Kune Do: contact Krauseworld, Cambridge Street, Glasgow, on 0141 400 970.