For a Wednesday morning in a city supposedly decimated by recession, Dublin was busy. As I walked down firstly Henry Street and then Abbey Street I was struck by not only how many shoppers and workers were going about their daily business, but also by the large amount of what are best described as "scrotes" that were on the streets. Now "scrotes" is a term that I use but others among you might prefer a different term, Scumbags is one, skangers is another crowd pleaser, but we all know who they are. And they were busy doing what they do best today.
The Luas stop at Jervis was treated to one such citizen walking confidently by, downing a can of Druids cider as he walked, it was 11am. He had the look of a man with a purpose, dress him in a suit, give him his first shower in a month and wipe the drool from his junkie drooping lips and he could well be off to a meeting in the IFSC. Having imbibed the contents of the can in one go and safe in the knowledge that there were at least 10 more in his tightly guarded plastic bag, the scrote tossed his can aside with great aplomb, landing just inches away from an elderly commuter who was patiently waiting on the Luas. It was a bit like the geeky kid from the 1980's that had just finished the Rubix cube in 10 seconds, tossing the cube aside with a sense of achievement and pride as if to say "there's plenty more where that came from". An early morning can of Druids is but an aperitif to any self respecting scrote.
A few moments later while in a nearby convenience store a woman pushing a buggy and a man in tow arrived in. "Jaysus Sharon..." (of course it was Sharon) "...this Spar smells like your Ma's kitchen" announced the man. I haven't had the pleasure of smelling Sharon's Ma's kitchen so I don't know if it was the pleasant aroma from the Insomnia cafe stand at the door, or something else that inspired the comment.
As I continued my journey through the shopping streets of Dublin 1, I noticed that there were scrotes everywhere, in a variety of states of toothlessness, pallor and inebriation. I then came to realise that we shouldn't criticise or castigate these unique Dublin citizens, but instead we should laud and praise them. With this in mind I believe we should create "National Scrote Day" to celebrate these fine additions to Dublin City life.
The beauty of National Scrote Day is that it can take place on any day of the week and pretty much at any time of the day because the scrote doesn't work, and never has. In it's natural habitat the scrote is a fascinating creature providing us with endless hours of intrigue and wonderment. Why go to Dublin Zoo and stare at a bored and grumpy tiger that in reality does nothing other than stare back at you through bulletproof glass with contempt when you could attend National Scrote Day instead? I would therefore suggest that National Scrote Day be a daily event. Think of the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham palace, only with Dutch Gold, sovereign rings and baseball caps. Tourists would flock to see this and scrotes being scrotes would in turn entertain the tourists with linguistic displays of incomprehensible English, great physical feats of public urination and how to stagger and sway for miles without actually falling over. That would be followed by an exhibition of thrilling real life crimes such as theft and grievous bodily harm. Where else could you be guaranteed entertainment like it?
National Scrote Day, contact your local Dublin City Councillor and demand it. These scrotes have been bleeding us dry for years, it's high time they gave us something back.
