Pick and Choose Policing.
I was strolling through town with the paramour yesterday. Busy busy as Sundays are wont to be. At the top of Grafton Street unfunny comedian David McSavage held sway with a microphone, insulting people willy nilly and playing 'Twist and Shout' on an acoustic guitar- both blunderbussing offenses in my view. Under every cash machine some variation of hobo sat, demanding money from people, Chuggers (charity muggers) were out in force, there was didgeridoo playing dude and a man with a puppet dancing to Amy Winehouse outside HMV, oh and the occasional 'statue' was taking a much deserved fag break.
On Wicklow street we watched two Ban Gardas bravely tackle a skinny teenager who was busking. 'Move it along' the one wearing make-up Lily Savage wouldn't have worn in daylight said, 'you can't sing here.'
We stood outside the Louis Vuitton luggage display window (drool). I looked at the travel cases. The paramour watched the guards, his green/brown eyes narrowing.
'Amazing that they pick on some harmless kid singing Wonderwall, but they leave that utter bollocks at the top of the street alone.' He said as the young lad packed up his guitar and slouched up the road, his Converse slapping dejectedly against the pavement.
'Yep.' I said.
We watched the two women proceed up the street, making a fine circle to avoid an aggressive looking tramp sitting outside the Centra hassling people for coins.