Geraldine Bedell, as we read, encountered some young female ones exposing their knickers outside the school gates, and I met a few, too.
A large group of them partied in our street till 4.30am last Saturday night, music pulsating through the pillow at full volume. I met a number on the school run, with up-yours finger salutes if you happened to cross their path. Then there was the one who nearly floored me with the dustbin bag he was chucking out of a basement because his eyes were stuck to the behinds of the pretty secretary students walking to college. My mother sat next to one on the London to Salisbury train: a yuppie yob who shouted into his mobile phone about fund management for 20 minutes regardless of a compartment full of people reading newspapers.
All irritating encounters but not life-threatening ones, like that experienced by the black man set on fire by white thugs on Thursday. There are plenty of yobs around when you don't go looking for them.
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