THE Adver started the last week of November 1980 embroiled in controversy.

In March of that year the attempted murder of a Texas oilman had made global headlines, and it emerged in late November that the would-be assassin was about to be identified.

We duly reported the update on our front page, only for some readers to accuse us of giving the story too much prominence.

The oilman in question was JR Ewing, villain of American soap opera Dallas, and public interest in the story was huge.

America had learned who pulled the trigger – JR’s ex-mistress, Kristin Shepard – the previous Friday. The following day the Swindon Advertiser, having found out the truth, taunted readers with a front page lead story headlined: “We’re Dying to Tell You, But…”

We had revealed the secret to a handful of local people and asked whether they’d guessed correctly. Some had, but at least one didn’t especially care.

Pub landlord Dennis Lawlor said: “I’m fed up with it. I hate JR. I’d shoot him myself if I had the chance.

“It’s a pity they didn’t do it before and I wish they’d killed him.”

Some of our readers got in touch to say they didn’t appreciate the front page of their local paper being dominated by such a story.

Typical was a Mrs SA Done of Cheney Manor Road, who wrote: “It is surely an insult to people’s intelligence to assume that such trashy American soap opera is of prime importance in our everyday lives and warrants headline treatment.”

In other showbusiness news, an actor whose best-known character had once been at least as famous – in Britain, at least – as JR was in town.

Between 1969 and 1973, Bob Grant had played Jack, the lecherous bus conductor foil to Reg Varney in sitcom On The Buses, which regularly drew more than 20m viewers.

By 1980 his television career was in the past, and he was in a touring production of Oh! Calcutta!, an occasionally erotic comedy revue. In an age long before the internet made seeking out naked people to look at about as difficult as ordering a pizza, it drew huge audiences.

We said: “Cheeky posters advertising the show disappeared from the Wyvern Theatre as fast as they could be replaced.

“One irate woman ripped one down and took it to the police station.”

The tour was a success, but Bob Grant never came to terms with his post-On the Buses career. In 2003, aged 71, he took his own life following years of mental health issues.

Oh! Calcutta! and its cast weren’t the only unveilings in Swindon that week.

In Toothill, what is still one of Swindon’s most unusual and striking buildings had its first tenants.

The unconventional layout and sloping walls of Goodrich Court, a small block of flats, were more than enough to attract attention.

We said: “If you thought the Martians had landed in Toothill you could be forgiven.

“Because slap bang in the middle of the village is an architectural curiosity that has locals and visitors blinking in disbelief.

“This spectacular pyramid or, as one inspired soul suggested, botched-up copy of Dr Who’s companion K9, has been quite a talking point.

“The council-owned building in Affleck Close has been posing quite a few problems for the resident, not least working out how you hang curtains straight on sloping windows.

“But they’re cheerfully coming to grips with the problem of modern design.”

Elsewhere in Swindon, another homeowner was anything but cheerful.

Keith Laurence told us that when he bought his house in Ravenglass Road, a sales negotiator for the builder assured him and his wife, Astrid, that the beautiful field his street looked on to would remain undeveloped.

We said: “A couple of weeks later they went abroad on holiday, leaving combines harvesting in the field. But they returned to something quite different.”

Readers with a knowledge of West Swindon will have worked out that the “something quite different” was the start of work on what would become the huge West Swindon shopping centre.

Mr Laurence added: “We’ve always wanted to live in the country, and it was lovely to have the field behind us. Now you come home and see tons of scrap metal that goes up every day, seven days a week.”

These days it’s easy for homebuyers to check out nearby planning applications online, but in those days they had little option but to trust what they were told.

Either that or perhaps go to a psychic, if they believed in such powers.

One woman who certainly did was a palm-reader called Madame Rosita, aka Valerie Goddard from Park North, who said she had Romany ancestry and was the seventh child of a seventh child.

The journalist we sent to interview her reported: “Can someone please tell me how a Swindon grandmother managed to see in my left palm things she couldn’t possibly have known without some slick detective work?”

Our reporter said the details ranged from health issues to family details few around her were aware of.

Madame Rosita herself made a point of asking clients to give money to their favourite charities rather than paying her.

“If I charged them,” she said, “I’d lose what ability I have.”