AFTER reading Monday's story of the 17-year-old York lad addicted to crime, my Evening Press was reduced to little more than tear-stained pulp. I'm sure you were similarly moved.

The unnamed boy, whose sweatshirt seemed to bear the distinctive legend "Coq Spot", told a harrowing story.

Brought up in an unbroken home by parents who taught him right from wrong, he was almost bound to go bad. All he wanted was to be part of a dysfunctional family like his mates.

Without the chance to blame his parents for his own failings, he sought solace in offending. Soon he was hooked. Early on he untied a barge. Home Office statistics show there is a direct correlation between boat-related mischief and more serious, golf-based infractions. Sure enough, the next thing you know the child was off his head on hooch, threatening passers-by with a nine-iron.

I have seen many cases like it. Youngsters with little more at home than satellite television, a mobile phone, designer sportswear and two dozen computer games, wandering the streets because they have nothing to do. In such sorry circumstances, crime is almost unavoidable. Once they have unfastened their first dinghy and experienced the artificial high of a bylaw violation, they are soon craving the harder stuff.

That is why I set up the charity Toerags Anonymous which aims to help crime addicts everywhere lead fulfilled lives. It is tough being an infringement junkie. When they are not being persecuted by the police, they are being ignored by the courts. No wonder they feel that they cannot do right for doing wrong.

Here is a typical case study from TA's files. Have your Kleenex handy.

"My name is Jeremy, although I call myself Dazza. I'm 16 and live with my mum and dad. First they drove me to my piano lessons, then they drove me to crime. My folks never understood me, my needs, my wants. On birthdays and at Christmas I'd only get one set of presents, whereas my friends got tons from stepdads, stepmums, social workers. Coming from a functional home is horrible.

"One day, when my folks were out buying the trainers I'd specified, the stress began doing my head in.

"I had to do something. I switched on the radio. They were playing the Top 40. The next thing I knew, I was slipping in a cassette, and pressing record.

"Yeah, I knew it was wrong. I know my way around the Copyright Protection Act. All teenagers do. But I didn't care. Breaking the law gave me such a buzz.

"After that I couldn't stop. When I went out on my bike the pavement seemed to be calling out, 'ride me, Dazza, ride me good'. I would flagrantly pedal across footstreets, causing several pedestrians some mild irritation.

"One day I got stopped by a copper. From then on I did more and harder offending to escape into a high. But the police kept hassling me. Setting fire to a tramp, stabbing my chemistry teacher - every little thing, they'd be there."

Poor Jeremy. It's not his fault. He needs our help, not a mild telling off and a community order.

For his sake, and for Coq Spot boy, please do what you can for those hopelessly addicted to crime. Leave your valuables on display and your door unlocked. Provoke drunken youngsters into a tirade of verbal abuse by saying "hello". Distribute knives to the needy.

It's the least we can do for burglars, vandals and yobs; the real victims of crime.

Updated: 11:04 Wednesday, September 24, 2003