LISTEN to some and you'd think Beirut had nothing on the West End of Morecambe.

They'll tell you tales of violence. And, to be brutally honest, they're sometimes true.

But Morecambe's answer to the Bronx? I knew that just wasn't right .

And I knew it even before I prepared to spend a Friday night on the West End beat with the police.

Reporters at the Citizen, as well as the door-to-door bobbies, will tell you that there are more people working hard for their community in the West End than in any other area of our district.

But, like everyone else, I knew the other side of life in those few tight little streets. The problems with drugs, drunken gangs, vandalism and other crimes are well documented by this paper.

All of which would make you think that the men and women responsible for policing the area would be the stereotypical jaded and cynical coppers of a thousand cliches.

That's what I expected before I met Sgt John Fawcett. It wasn't what I found. Chatting with this community bobby about 'his' patch it was obvious that the West Enders had an optimistic but realistic policeman. Realistic because after 22 years as a policeman it's likely he's opened his eyes to a side of life the rest of us would rather shut out. But then maybe it is realistic to think you can make a difference, can improve the environment around you.

As he said: "You need the community on your side, you need to talk to the youngsters and you need meet people instead of whizzing by in a car."

After our chat we had a quick briefing with the other lads on the beat - it all sounded, reassuringly enough, like we would be dealing with small time crime. Next minute we were on the streets.

All thoughts of drug crazed bandits wielding machetes were soon banished. A gaggle of under-age teenagers drinking wine here, a group of rowdy lads there - nothing to write home about. "It's cheap night at Frontierland - give 'em something to do and there's no bother," explained long time special Ian Hainsworth. And so it proved. Nothing very much happened for long stretches of the night.

But what was interesting was seeing the way the force (four of them on the beat in West End) interacted with the teenagers hanging around. Laughter and friendly words of advice were the methods deployed to talk to young people when they were doing nothing wrong. That and contacting the parents when they are. In short old fashioned community bobbying - the kind that is no longer supposed to exist.

Eventually we were called up to Heysham where about 20 to 30 youths were drinking at the old ruins. The one and only moment of drama of the night came as we sneaked up on them in the dark - just like it was a proper raid. Once there, of course, it was all very friendly. Some stern words about keeping the noise down among the general relaxed reverie. They were mainly teenagers although, bizarrely there was a 22-year-old bald lad and a 19-year-old hanging out with them.

While that was going on there was some trouble back in the West End. Cellar 5, a shop that has had its share of troubles, had some problem with a few youths and its window was put out.

And that, sceptical reader, was the worst trouble of the night.

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.