SO the 'noyz boyz' are rolling round the town, throttles twisting or pedals down.

Amplified sound at the end of a pipe; consideration for others not worth a nose-wipe. 


The police are responsible but they're seldom there; the authority is too but they don't seem to care.


'Wheelies' speeding and racing help to 'max up' the din as we hear the inevitable 'War of the Decibels' begin. 


They break law upon law knowing they'll never be caught and for those who have to listen there's never a thought.


So: the ordinary motorists zoom towards their homes, see heads twisted intently towards mobile phones. 


Hear some belting sound systems as they burn up the lanes; see them driving their 'motors' like they're Intercity trains. 


See fag ends flicked nonchalantly into the air, (cars with ashtrays are incredibly rare).


Take a walk along a roadside, take in the sight;
There's an amazement of littering, a transport of delight.


Take in bottles, cans, wrappers from chocolate bars which have been lovingly flung from hurtling cars.


So: there's a glimpse of an enchanting roadside scene; look and listen for yourself, you'll see what I mean. 


There's the noise, there's the litter, it's a car crash mess.
It's verging on ridiculous, but who could care less? 


Letters appear in these columns week after week but there's no real interest of which to speak. 


So the spoilers of our environment will just carry on as the level of control seems to be lower than none.


Name and address supplied