It’s 8pm and you’re moseying through Norwich as the sun goes down.

People are sitting outside pubs beneath fairy lights, and children on their school holidays straggle around the dinosaur statues dotted about the city.

Ah, bliss.

Until out of nowhere materialises the silent menace that is the cavalier e-Scooter rider.

Creeping up on the tired and the partially-sighted, people fly about the place like bats out of hell.

Westlegate is the worst for it – which, as it happens, is also a favourite runway for cyclists who appear to be chasing down maximum velocity.

I don’t have a problem with cyclists or people who use these scooters – it looks like great fun and the greener the better.

The fact that more scooters are coming to the city is welcome, as I can really see the benefit to people who live and work here.

But I spend half my time looking over my shoulder worrying that I’ll be taken out by a teenager travelling at 30mph on two wheels.

Crossing St Stephens Street last week a bloke on a scooter whizzed by so close I could smell his aftershave.

It made me jump and that was that, but there were busses heading down the street.

If either me or him had made one wrong move it could’ve ended badly for both of us.

Now, I’m rolling my eyes at this next bit because I sound like my mum, but: this guy wasn’t wearing a helmet.

It’s not chic and it does give you helmet hair, but if you insist on making death dashes in front of large moving vehicles then at least give yourself a chance.

I’m not a fan of raining on parades and I’m too young to pull off being grumpy about the ways of the world.

But if you’re taking to the streets on chunks of hefty metal remember that you can do some damage – to others and to yourself.