All in a night's work for noise patrol

Peckham, south-east London, 2.10am. "What noise?" said a girl straining her voice above the drum beat. "Your music," shouted Tony. "Music? Music ain't noise. What's your problem?"

A second girl poked her head around the front door and ushered her friend inside to turn The Prodigy's "Smack My Bitch Up" down. "Why didn't they come and complain to us instead of calling you out from the council? Anyway we're going out clubbing now."

All in a night's work for Tony Murphy, 48, of Southwark Council's Noise Patrol Team - along with complaints about a yapping Jack Russell, kids thudding around next door, ornaments on shelves vibrating and a car alarm ringing incessantly.

On 6 October, following a Mori Poll which revealed that four out of five of Southwark's 232,000 residents were affected by noise pollution, the council extended its noise patrol system from weekends only to provide a 24-hour service. With the festive season well under way the new system is being tested to its limit.

Under the 1990 Environmental Protection Act, environmental health officers have the power to assess whether a reasonable person can live with the offending noise, and can then serve a Noise Abatement Notice. If this order is not complied with, equipment can be seized and prosecution can result. Offenders can be fined up to pounds 5,000.

Since the introduction of the extended service in Southwark, hi-fis have been seized from eight addresses and 12 other cases have been sent for prosecution. Recently the teams discovered equipment capable of staging a pop concert in a small flat in Peckham Rye.

Last year the team received 6,009 calls, and the council predicts that figure will double next year. Southwark is the largest landlord in the country with almost half the households living in council accommodation. The 11 square miles display great contrasts - growing economic prosperity in Bankside in the north, unemployment and disadvantage in the council estates in the centre and solid wealth in leafy Dulwich Village in the south.

According to Helen Masterson, 28, the deputy noise team manager, people's tolerance varies depending on the area. "Peckham residents will put up with a lot more and wait a lot longer until they phone than those living in Dulwich, where house prices are the second highest in London," she said.

On a typical Friday night, about 40 calls are received and on Saturday it is often as many as 70. Callers are greeted by Garfield Daley. who records complaints and checks whether there are records of previous incidents involving the complainant or the perpetrator.

Swigging back his fifth cup of tea Tony Murphy pulls on his anorak, grabs the call sheet from Garfield and heads into the night, with Helen Masterson navigating.

Seventy-five per cent of service requests are responded to within an hour, and all within three hours. Helen and Tony arrived on Delores Smyths' doorstep 30 minutes after she had telephoned, complaining of thudding noises and screaming in the flat next door.

The 34-year-old mother had had trouble with her neighbours before. "I'm ill, I've got cancer. This is the last thing I can cope with," said Ms Smyth. "I've complained to the council before but they said it was too expensive to record the noise. I have some benefit, I'll pay for it - anything to stop that racket."

This night patrol is about more than just noise-busting. It involves the skills of a diplomat and a social worker. "I can't tell no two-year- old to tiptoe. We're gonna carry on making as much f---ing noise as we like. We're not gunna stop for f---ing nobody," said Ms Smyth's neighbour, raising her voice over the din of 10 adults and eight children crammed into the small flat. Verbal abuse is part of the job. When things threaten to get out of hand the police can be called for back-up.

Of all the complaints he has dealt with, the call that sticks in Tony's mind the most is one from an elderly gentleman: "Can you come and sort out the birds - their whistling annoys me too early in the morning."