I WAS one of the unfortunate Old Town residents awoken by the sheer machismo of the boy racers in the wee hours of Sunday morning.

There I was, blissfully snuggled up in bed, dreaming away peacefully when a gunshot and a chainsaw woke me up.

‘I must be in a horror film,’ I thought. ‘This must be Swindon Chainsaw Massacre’.

But no. It was group of inconsiderate, pathetic little boys whose idea of entertainment is to race their cars around residential streets in the middle of town as fast as they can.

To add to the thrills, they’ve souped up their engines until they sound like cheap, tinny Harley Davidsons. And when they backfire, which they do a lot, it’s extra especially exciting because it sounds a bit like a gunshot, which obviously, is really cool.

I imagine the whole purpose of this exercise is for these boys to come across as “sick” and irresistibly attractive to the opposite sex.

Girl: “So, handsome, what do you do?”

Boy: “I race cars.”

Girl: “Wow. Like Lewis Hamilton?”

Boy: “No, er... it’s just me and my mates driving our old bangers around Old Town quite quickly at 2am when most people are in bed. It’s quite noisy, which is the best bit.”

You see, if you love cars and love speed and love racing, wouldn’t it be a better idea to actually go along to a racetrack and learn to do it properly?

If you’re good you might even make a career – and pots of money – out of it.

Instead you’re just being sad little nuisances.

Not only are you waking people up in the dead of night but you’re putting people’s lives at risk.

If you lose control, or can’t stop in time for someone crossing the road, you could kill someone.

How much fun will it all seem then?

If the police catch you, they have said they will confiscate your cars. It’d be great if they took them in part exchange for some brain cells. Then you might stop being such idiots.

No way to treat someone who is ill

THIS week we covered a court case in which a woman was charged with a public order offence. The offence in question resulted in the M4 being closed after the woman was seen on a footbridge over the motorway in a state which alarmed motorists.

It’s a tragic story and sadly not as rare as we would like it to be. What makes it worse is that this woman, who is just 24, was brought before a court, initially charged with causing a public nuisance.

Is it me or does it seem a bit tactless to call someone’s suicide attempt a ‘nuisance’? Having recently watched ITV’s Secrets From The Asylum, which looks back at the horrendous conditions in which people were incarcerated, sometimes for their entire lives, were they unlucky enough to branded a ‘lunatic’, this case in Swindon Magistrates’ Court has left me wondering how much has changed over the past 100 years or so.

Surely this poor woman should have been taken to a hospital and given the care and support she needed? Fine, she brought traffic to a standstill and inconvenienced a huge number of drivers. And yes, she did kick an officer, although whether or not that was deliberate is unknown. But this is a woman who needs help, not punishment, and if anyone thinks the public shame of a court case will help her on the road to recovery they are sadly misguided. This country needs to take a long hard look at how it treats people with mental health issues. They are not criminals, they are just ill.

  • A FEW weeks ago Swindon Borough Council and I had a bit of a falling out over some visitor parking permits. The council said my address didn’t exist. I know it does. I eat and sleep there and all sorts. Anyway, to cut a long story short, the council has added my house to the system and I am now in proud possession of thirty quid’s worth of permits. But I couldn’t help being irritated that the envelopes they arrived in (yes, two booklets = two envelopes and two lots of postage, for some reason) bore the wrong postcode. It’s boggling that the council tax and elections department are able to use my correct postcode, while the parking department insists there’s no such postcode and therefore use my neighbour’s around the corner (not even on the same street!). So long as the other departments don’t catch on and start charging me for council tax on two properties...