Supernanny knows best

AT THE risk of sounding culturally clueless, I have to confess that the charm of most reality TV eludes me. Tribal councils? Immunity? Alliances? I don't care if everyone stays on the island, but if it were up to me, I'd vote them all off the air.

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As for reality romance, though there's little more diverting than ''like"-laden monologues about the agony and ecstasy of Gen X dating, I get my weekly fill of them with the cellphone conversations I'm made an unwilling party to each time I, say, take the bus.

Then there's ''Fear Factor." I did manage to choke down some crunchy vermicular vittles in Mexico City recently. Still, chugging raw bugs, however well blended, simply doesn't do it for me as far as plots go.

But there is a reality show I've become an instant and enormous fan of, a show that has already taken England by storm -- and one Americans beyond number could benefit from watching. First, however, let's start with some all-too-regular reality.

Earlier this month, I was in a Borders bookstore when a rambunctious boy of 7 or so took a running start and launched himself into his brother, who then tumbled into me. Gamely picking himself up, the other brother got up his own head of steam, and slammed into his sibling.

As Round 3 was about to commence, I offered the unexpected view that the bookstore probably wasn't the best place for that sort of roughhousing. Whereupon an annoyed-looking mother hove into view, casting before her a glance every bit as frigid as the chill that descended on Boston last Friday. Not at her kids, mind you, but at me. She was, in short, a Dimpie -- A Doting Indulgent Modern Parent. And her look signaled an unmistakable sentiment: How dare you speak to my (wretchedly behaved) children?

Other times, the problem is parental powerlessness.

That was the case recently with a Dimpie duo at a kids' hockey game. A trio of little tornadoes whirled back and forth over the bleachers, leaving a cacophony of thumps, shrieks, and shouts in their wake. Occasionally, one of their parents would pleadingly utter one of their names.

Once a mother even had one of those ''If you don't start behaving sometime in this calendar year, your father and I may have to consider starting a discussion of possible punishments so pathetically ineffectual that they wouldn't frighten a bunny" discussions. To no avail, of course.

A week later, I was having lunch in Portland when a Dimpie duo came in with two Beowulfian little Grendels, who proceeded to bang their glasses on the table, jump on and off the bench seat, and treat the entire eatery to a chorus of ''LA LA LA LA LA LA LA" at the top of their leathery little lungs.

Which brings us to ABC's truly must-see TV: ''Supernanny." Airing Mondays at 10 p.m., it stars Jo Frost, who was, for 15 years, an actual British nanny.

Each week, the show sends Frost into utter anarchy -- ah, make that actual homes -- to teach befuddled parents how to put aside the bargaining, the begging, the bribing, the beseeching, and -- mirabile dictu -- actually get their kids to behave.

Not by being martinets, I hasten to add, but merely by reestablishing control over children who have learned, with the keen intuition of youth, that they are really the boss. ''Parents need to find the balance," Frost said in an interview. ''Every child needs discipline, along with a healthy balance of love and affection. Parents have lost the in-between ground -- and kids have lost respect for them."

In her long years of nannying, Frost has unearthed ancient, esoteric secrets of child-rearing long lost in the mist of pre-Dimpie antiquity. Here's one: ''Be consistent and follow through with every disciplinary action you take. If you don't take yourself seriously, how can you expect your child to?" How indeed?

She adds: ''We are not talking about controlling children. We are talking about being in control of the situation. There is a big difference."

Now, gentle reader, I know your kids are always well behaved. Certainly I would never be so presumptuous as to imply that they aren't.

Still, give ''Supernanny" a chance. Please.

Particularly if you, say, bring your kids to Borders. Or to their older siblings' sporting events.

And especially if you happened to take your little angels to lunch in Portland a week ago Saturday.

Scot Lehigh's e-mail address is lehigh@globe.com.