I'm sure it was posted way back but it may have fallen down the memory-hole in chat. I can't find it in any of the obvious places.
I can date the story to early 2002. It was in July of that year that the City of Manchester Stadium - now the Etihad - opened.
At that time, I had done some work in a Gorton school and had good reason to remember one large family, of Oirish extraction: they had a child in every year-group, most of them boys and all difficult. Their looks were distinctive but they were so similar to each other that, even when the story broke, I was uncertain whether I had taught the lad at the centre of it or just one or two of his siblings.
They were exactly the kind of family who would give their children nuisance toys and dirt-bikes for their birthdays. So they did.
The stadium was nearly finished, I gather, with work continuing right up to the opening to prepare the landscape around it. This area seemed to invite the off-road tribe as an ideal playground, ignoring the Health & Safety warnings posted around.
Twilight fell but there was still fuel in the engines and tear-arse noises to be made, bombing over the rough terrain. Even better, the builders had thoughtfully left a line of posts to mark the boundary of the main approach to the stadium. Just the job for a slalom!
Or they would have been, if it hadn't been for the chains between!
Our alpha-male lead was out of it very quickly. His chums were offered therapy.
I did once search for the story online but it predates archived local newsaper reports. It must have been in the Evening News.
Searching for it brings up a surprising number of beheadings in the region!