"I'M BEGGING you, please don't take me home," pleads the young girl, summoning all the pathos she can muster as her two litre bottle of cider is tipped down the drain.

She looks younger than her 14 years, and is slightly built.

It's hard to believe she could drink more than a sherry glass of cider without unleashing a technicolor yawn into the gutter, so to speak.

The girl has had previous dealings with the police, and knows this is serious.

So she goes for the heartstrings.

"My dad's living in a shelter, and I never get to see him," she says, head bowed, staring at the ground.

"It just numbs the pain."

Her friend who is a year older joins in with a spirited defence, and a few tears.

"We're not even drunk, and we haven't been causing any problems," she says. "There's nothing else to do. We're sorry, can't you just give us a warning?"

It's a valiant effort, but doesn't wash with WPC Gail Bellamy.

She explains how hordes of underage drinkers have been terrorising Blair Parade in Rodbourne Cheney, where we caught the girls slinking off into an alley with cider, alcopops and a bottle of Coke which reeks of Bacardi.

The area is covered by a dispersal order, which means troublemakers aged under 16 can be taken home.

It's not yet 9pm, but Gail can still take the girls home.

They get into the back of her 4X4, and are whisked off to give their parents an unwelcome surprise.

Police say that the orders the first of which was imposed in Stratton a year ago are one of the most effective tools in the fight to curb yobbish disorder.

Besides giving officers the power to frogmarch unruly youths home, gangs can be ordered to scatter.

Some areas covered have experienced a 50 per cent fall in reports of harassment.

But critics say gangs simply slope off to torment other neighbourhoods.

It's a quiet night in Blair Parade, and nearby Church Walk South, where up 50 teenagers can congregate at weekends.

Many locals are too afraid to venture out at night for fear of abuse.

While Gail takes the girls home, we follow her colleague community support officer Sarah Young to investigate a report that youths are starting a fire in St Mary's Park off Vicarage Road.

Gail has taken the wheels, so we go on foot, checking St Mary's Church on the way.

Sarah knows nearly all the kids who hang out on her patch.

Before a group is dispersed, she takes names and addresses, and warning letters are sent to parents.

We walk briskly in a vain effort to warm ourselves up, while Sarah explains how the tactic is working.

"In one case a 15-year-old went into a shop and apologised for his behaviour after we sent a letter home," she says.

"Sometimes we meet with kids and their parents, and usually get positive results.

"We've also managed to build up a good rapport with most of the youths, there is mutual respect."

She believes the message is getting through that gang-fuelled disorder will not be tolerated.

The problem is a small hardcore who believe they are above the law.

"A minority of kids think they can beat the system," she says.

"But most are well mannered, and are usually fine, especially when on their own."

The churchyard has become another drinking haunt, but tonight it's clear.

And the fire turns out to be a false alarm

But in the darkness of the park we make out a dozen hooded figures skulking in a children's play area.

No one tries to run off or attempt to hide their two bottles of cider and they recognise Sarah as we approach.

"Hello Sarah, you gonna move us on?" shouts one lad wearily.

The park is not covered by the dispersal order, so they can't be sent away.

Instead, the booze is emptied and names and addresses taken down.

The lads joke with us apart from the drink, they're not misbehaving, just being boisterous.

I ask if they're worried about their parents finding out about the booze.

"My parents don't care anyway," says one boy. "Most of our parents are glad to get us out of the house."

But is sitting in a park on a wintry Friday night really that much fun, even if you have a bottle of cider to slurp?

There's plenty of other things to do in Swindon, I say, why not go to the cinema or bowling?

"It's too expensive, we can't afford it, and you can buy cider for £3 a bottle," is the response.

"There are no houses near here, it's just spoiling our fun.

"We can't meet up anywhere."

By now Gail is back, and she's pleased with the response from the girls' parents.

"They were fuming," she says as we drive around several back alleys and check out regular troublespots, such as underpasses in Haydon Wick and the Taw Hill shops.

"They both came from respectable backgrounds, and have been grounded for a long time," she says.

"It's exactly the kind of response we want from parents."

It's been one of the quieter nights for the yob patrol, and Gail hopes it proves recent police action is working.

Tamash Lal