'THE PIED PIPER HAS COME TO TOWN AND HEROIN IS HIS TUNE'

In an anonymous house, in a neat little street in the former pit village of
Moorends, near Doncaster, Brian, 16, is "doing his rattle", local slang for
heroin withdrawal. In another room his elder brother, David, who has
overdosed several times, is also trying to come off the "brown". Brian says
he cannot bear what their addiction is doing to their mother.

It is the same story in a house a few streets away, where John, 18, is 10
days into his latest attempt to beat the drug. He is desperate to win, for
he has sold everything, including his precious motorbike, to fund his habit,
and his mother wears her bedroom key round her neck to stop him stealing her
jewellery.

All three boys are staying in, and avoiding their mates, most of whom have
just begun the late-morning "drug run" to secure the day's first fix. You
can watch the junkies if you know where to look: Moorends has five dealers
and nearby Thorne has more. A phone call or a stroll down the street and the
next "hit" is yours.

At first it is hard to take all this in, for Moorends, in the shadow of the
defunct Thorne pit, looks so ordinary. But there are 150 registered drug
addicts in this village of 4,500 people. Despite daily searches of teenagers
on the street and raids on houses, heroin has re-emerged as the drug of
choice. Moorends is evidence that it is reaching places it never reached before.

South Yorkshire Police say the village is at the end of two drug routes,
which start in Liverpool and Hull, and that hundreds of Moorends youngsters
smoke or inject it. "It is like the Pied Piper has come to town and heroin
is his tune," says Maureen Walsh, 50, whose family has been blighted by it.
"The kids still love their families
but when the craving is on, nothing else matters, and to get it they tell
such lies."

A huge rise in petty crime was the first sign the drug had arrived. Mrs
Walsh's daughter Lorraine remembers the shock of returning to live in
Moorends after 10 years in Doncaster. Houses were being burgled and garden
sheds raided. Within days she saw teenage boys "booting it" (smoking heroin)
in a phone booth and another group shooting up in a car. Moorends' high
water table flushed out the ugly truth. After a downpour, scores of syringes
floated up through the drains.

There were angry meetings between the police and community. Residents said
the police were not doing enough; officers levelled the same complaint
against the community. Vigilantism surfaced. Middle-aged men with baseball
bats set out to hunt the junkies and dealers. On their first outing they
beat up an innocent boy.

A more orderly war is now being waged from the Bungalow, a drugs drop-in and
advice centre recently set up by Mrs Walsh and other parents with a
UKP19,000 grant from the police. Officers are supportive but only visit by
arrangement.

The softly-softly community approach seems to be getting results. More than
a hundred youngsters have sought help. And so have their parents. At the
Bungalow, Sue, 41, explains the shock of discovering that three
of her children are addicts. "I'm on tablets for stress; I've sat and cried
with my sons but it is so hard for them to get off it. My middle son left
for four weeks to get away from the scene but overdosed a day after coming
back. You're always terrified your child will die."

She says the Bungalow has relieved one pressure. Before it started, many
parents believed only a tiny minority of teenagers were users, and blamed
their families.

The sense of "us and them" has weakened, for some of those parents have
since discovered their children are users too.

That does not mean denial has entirely disappeared. There are still those
who believe the Bungalow has brought shame to Moorends. Mrs Walsh says the
pits may have gone but the village still has its pride. "There are a helluva
lot of good people here and they don't want anyone to know their children
are taking."

A stalwart of the soup kitchens during the miners' strike, Mrs Walsh says
the community must realise that the unity it showed then is the answer now.
If she ever worried about gossiping neighbours, she does not now. "Words
cannot kill my kids," she says. "But heroin can."

But why have Moorends' youngsters succumbed so quickly and in such numbers?
The Bungalow points to the unemployment and general depression after the
death of coal and steel. The generation now on heroin grew up watching their
parents go under. And it is low-paid training schemes, not jobs, that many
of those youngsters are offered. The police point to the insularity of
Moorends, where people have traditionally stuck together and from where,
even now, many youngsters hardly venture.

Brian says: "I knew all the dangers but I started taking heroin because it
was there. I was bored and it seemed exciting. Just about everyone I knew
was using it. And it was cheap, at least in the beginning." Mrs Walsh
believes the Bungalow is winning. And, according to the police, full of
praise for local efforts, there has been a significant drop in crime since
the beginning of the year.

But the Bungalow knows it has a long way to go. An agitated teenager turns
up in the early afternoon. In private, he begs Mrs Walsh to lend him UKP2.
He has been off heroin for a few weeks and, as a show of trust, his parents
gave him UKP4 that morning to buy magazines. He no longer has the money and
has not bought the magazines. He tries to persuade Mrs Walsh he lost the
coins but she suspects he pooled resources with a mate to buy a hit. The
real battle for those brave enough to "do the rattle" is constant
temptation. In Moorends, the
next fix is never far away.

HOW THE DRUG GETS A GRIP ON USERS:

Critics claimed that the cult movie Trainspotting glamorised heroin, but any
addict will admit that there is nothing remotely glamorous about sticking
needles into your arm for a short-lived high.

One of the most addictive drugs in the world, heroin comes in the form of
white or brown powder. It is traditionally injected into a vein, but can
also be snorted, smoked or swallowed. Casual users say it gives a warm,
mellow glow that helps them deal with stress. Higher doses act like a
sedative, depressing the activity of the nervous system and slowing
breathing and heart rate. Even greater amounts bring on a stupor and can
knock the user out.

Most of the heroin in Britain comes from the "Golden Crescent" - the
mountainous areas of Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan where opium poppies
flourish. Farmers extract a liquid from the seed head, which produces opium
that can be processed into heroin. It is smuggled through the Balkans and
into Britain via ports and airports.

As a Class A drug - in common with cocaine, Ecstasy and LSD - those
importing heroin face up to 20 years in prison if caught. Couriers, who are
paid by the importers to bring in smaller amounts, often in condoms that
they swallow, can be sent down for 10 years.

If the heroin passes through Customs undetected it is broken up through a
network of dealers who sell it on in smaller amounts after mixing it with
other substances. Once on the street it is known variously as smack, brown,
junk or skag.

Its purity often varies and many deaths have resulted from overdosing on
unusually high purity. A "wrap" - enough for one smoke - sells for about
UKP10. Although those taking the drug do not inevitably become dependent on
it, recreational users are often tempted to take it more regularly. As
Trainspotting showed, coming off heroin is extremely difficult.

HEROIN: THE FACTS:

Deaths from heroin in England and Wales have risen from 55 in 1993 to 194 in
1997.

There are about 40,000 known addicts in Britain, but the total could be five
times higher.

In 1997 2,235kg of the drug were confiscated - twice the previous year.

Heroin is commonly sold in UKP10 wraps but can be bought for only UKP5.
Users spend an estimated UKP3bn on the drug every year.