THINK back to when you were a teenager. Did you have an overwhelming urge to go around destroying things?

I couldn't possibly have the gall to ask that question if I didn't display a little honesty myself. Well, the answer is yes and no.

As far as I can recall, I never had the slightest inclination for destruction as an adolescent. For some reason, such tendencies seemed to be on the wane once the spots arrived.

No, any taste for such pursuits are more associated with my pre-teens, when I could often be found shooting at model Messerschmitts on my mother's washing line shrieking such bon mots as "Tally ho!" and "Bandits, 1 o'clock" or "Watch your tail, Binky!" Yes, I know. Mad.

Hand on heart, I can honestly say that the only things I broke after the age of 16 was umpteen girls' hearts. Only joking.

But what is it that drives youngsters - almost exclusively boys - to committing acts of vandalism? And why do children's play areas so often fall victim?

A recent outbreak in Malvern - and a particularly mean and nasty one at that - provides next to no clues about the wreckers' motivation.

Perhaps it's a combination of factors. Let's face it, being a teenager is not a question of chronology, it's a disease brought on by rampant hormones, peer pressure and invariably fuelled with sweetened-to-make-palatable alcohol.

It all makes for a lethal cocktail. On top of this, there is the crucial factor of too much time on idle hands. Once, apprenticeships kept young lads occupied. Now, they're all doing media courses with very little hope of a job at the end of it all. So add resentment to that list, too.

I have no idea of the psychology of anti-social behaviour, but I do know that until our youth is gainfully occupied in the kind of numbers known in the 1950s, there will be no answer to this problem.

RAF STILL FLYING HIGH

THURSDAY marked the 65th anniversary of the climax to the Battle of Britain.

On September 15, 1940 Hermann Goering sent over everything he'd got in order to break the Royal Air Force once and for all.

But despite overwhelming odds, the Brylcreem boys sent them packing. From then on, the threat of invasion slowly - but inexorably - started to recede

Our undying gratitude goes to the young people of another age who thwarted the Reichsmarshal's designs.

I was privileged to meet some of the pilots and ground crew who gave their all back then when I attended aviation history writer Dilip Sarkar's recent book launch at the Guildhall, Worcester.

Not only were there British veterans in attendance, but also some former enemies, too. I also talked to a former U-boat radio operator and Panzer Grenadier infantryman who had fought for his country in the lanes and fields of Normandy.

Here were British and Germans in harmony after so much bitter, shared history. Perhaps there is hope for the world.

SEASON OF DUST AND DRILLS

WORCESTER'S been a building site this summer. The street in which I live hasn't escaped either, as drives, patios, and conservatories spring up like mushrooms.

Turning the corner off the Bath Road and my eyes are greeted each day with the sight of a large development centres around the old Albion Mills. From suburban roads to the South Quay fountains, it's been nothing but drills, dust and yet more of the same.

But spare a thought for the boat people of Diglis Basin, who are caught up in this maelstrom. It's a bitter irony that their choice of a tranquil, water-borne existence has effectively been ended by the Worcester development revolution.

There must be many who dreamt of a Wind in the Willows idyll, only to find that in crowded Britain, noise and mayhem are never that far away.

I talked to a charming chap from Lincolnshire this week. He'd been moved from his moorings and was outwardly philosophical about the upheaval.

That's as may be. But there was a look in his eyes that told of a shattered dream lost forever on the waterways of old England.

AUSTEN HEAVEN MOTORS ON

FORTY years after studying it for O-level, I have resolved to see Pride and Prejudice, the new blockbuster starring Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen.

One night next week, I will be escorted by my wife and daughters to a local flicks to view the latest incarnation of Jane Austen's masterpiece.

It is my understanding that such expeditions are known as "girlie" nights out.

Bodice-ripping yarn this ain't. At the age of 16, this story was an uphill struggle from beginning to end. Back then, my head was being turned by other things - and that most certainly didn't include the Bennet girls.

But now .... well, I've quite warmed to it. Maybe it's having two daughters of my own. Oh! Mr Phillpott!