#metoo
#ustoo
#themtoo

#themtoo

#themtoo
#hertoo

#metoo
#ustoo

#themtoo
#hogtoo
#themtoo
#ustoo
#ustoo
#ustwotoo
#usfourtoo
ireland

You’ll never guess where I am…

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Let There Be (a street) Light

Monday morning euphoria

Concrete Jungle

Travelling light

More of the old, more of the new

The long and winding (but mostly steep!) road

Painters wanted. A good head for heights an advantage.

Alone with his thoughts (and a cigarette)

The biggest stone arch in the world

La file pas indienne

Swapping seats

St Tropez vibe

The condensation machine

A blot on the manscape

Girl Love

Pilar of Society

Last Metro trip

Ryanair experience euphoria
ireland

Lisboa day 3 – with the heavy, old, reliable Canon

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The new and the ephemeral

A city is nothing, without its suburbs

You should try the Dart, for arrival anxiety…
Blue immersion

The Guide du Croutard. There was a swarm of them. All dressed in Quechua gear.
And she’s buying a Stairway to Heaven

Melodie, unchained.
😀 Weed

Travelling incognito

Reciprocate

The obligatory tramway shot (€500 fixed penalty for not taking at least one)
Almost as grand as Cinema Paradiso

Tarbuck, a stain on historical buildings

The obligatory porto shot (€500 fixed penalty for not taking at least one)
Cool font!
When in Rome… (the breakfast of champions)
I do love a well designed concrete structure

Jesus – the Cubic Phase

Possibly the coolest metro station in the world

Yes, very very probably

In colour, please!

Rooted in modernity

The End (once all the fuckers with carry-on suitcases have finished fighting over space in the overhead bins…)
ireland

Lisboa day 3 – tiny, featherlight camera

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The Jelly Fish Antenna

Mamilstagram

The Scooters Herder

Show us your Mickey

Hand-Foot Coordination

Mini cluster of retired French teachers on a balcony

Not Panama

not dead?

4L, ma belle

The Giddy Herd

Star quality

ireland

Lisboa day 2 – with the camera that’s heavy to carry around (I should know)

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Hill start paradise

Sardines sauce Coca-Cola

Get a room you two

GOOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLL!!!!

Gran does Google Maps

Dead end

Tourism procession
Very drunk toddler

Ich bin here!
Feather light

… says a tourist with can of mass-produced spray paint
Beyond ridiculous (not a fan of bruise ships)

La croisière s’amuse pas
Ich bin here too!

Exception (I do not as a rule take photographs of homeless people)

The invention of Cat Instagram, 600 BC

The devil is in the detail

My legs are kilim me

He’s behind you! (Jean-Baptiste Poquelin)
Euphoric squat
A special moment

The Special Event Glasses

Credit Agricole en vol
The Old and the New
… one graffiti at a time

Sexist view point?

Slippery as fuck (talking from experience)
ireland

Lisboa day 2 – with the tiny camera that is so light and handy

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Supersize me!

The Fault in Our Stars
Zebra Crossing
Spiky Murmuration
La Coccinelle
My DOG!
San Franlisboa

Waiting for his Valentine
Good for the calf muscles
Cobblestones. So aesthetically pleasing. (Slippery as fuck when wet though…)
ireland

Lisboa day 1 – with the much heavier camera

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Early start

Connected Man or Charging the Battery
What hamsters do when the wheel stops
Coke isn’t it?

A cat and mouse situation

A cornelian sardine selection moment

Boy in the hood

Liars and Criminals of the World Unite

Terrassé en terrasse
Selection box of Ministros

Yogi on duty

I didn’t have €600 to spare. Pity…
Lisboa’s answer to Teddy’s Icecream

Where grocers go after they die

The view from the balcony

ireland

Lisboa day 1 – with the tiny pocket camera

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Donegal country folks circa 1875
The extension
Alain can’t believe that all this…
… can fit in this!
With Michelle for scale
River Watch. (Spoiler alert: Fuck all happens…)
But.. but… I think I saw something move… THERE!
Nope. Nothing. Nothing at all.
Q: How many Unionists does it take to walk on a beach? A: Way too many…
Nirvana, this way >>>>>>
Barbecue on the lawn. Soon.
The Creature from the Tent of Doom
Two cones, one ancient glacial valley
A very scenic wee wee stop
The Irish Summer
White on blue
ireland

Donegal mishmash 2022 (With a bit of Leitrim thrown in. And the Creatures from Lough Owel – scary)

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ireland

And then what?

KILL THE RICH says you.

I can’t help but think that this earnest if seemingly spontaneous (once the can of spray paint was sourced) plan has its inherent flaws.

First of all, do you have a threshold? Some kind of benchmark exercise, to differentiate between the reviled Rich and the more relatable Non-rich (the Poor?) What are the terms and conditions of access to the Cull Club?  If you had to put a price tag on it, what would it be? A million? A billion? A trillion? And more importantly in what currency? Does it cover crypto too? What about intangible assets? See, as soon as you scratch under the surface, it becomes an instant headwreck.

Just for the sake of argument, does the fact that, in order to launch your Kill the Rich global initiative, you were able to spend the equivalent of three weeks’ wages for a textile worker in Bangladesh on a can of spray paint, make you one of the loathsome and unworthy-to-live Rich?
Or did you perhaps murder the filthy rich founder of a family-owned hardware store in Finglas to procure the paint and stay true to your principles? The poor bollix was worth what? A mill or two, max, after a lifetime of toil? Or did you start your killing spree with Craig A. Menear, CEO of Home Depot, who received a total compensation of $13,059,751 in 2021?
Maybe he is riled up at the mere mention of the likes of Jeff Bezos who look down on him on the tarmac in his flimsy little Bombardier, from the lofty heights of their private 787s.

Aren’t we all someone else’s Rich? Should we all look behind our back and make sure not to overfeed the dobermans that guard the house, keep them lean and mean, in case your call to arms really starts gaining traction?

Then there is always the question of how. Yes, how do you propose to wipe them out? Depending on where you place the threshold, there could be quite a few. A whole army of those filthy rich bastards. And the richer they get, the more paranoid they become of the likes of you and me and all the other little Non-rich (poor?) nobodies that contribute to their massive wealth. They employ armies of big nasty bodyguards and security experts whose hourly rate is a few months’ worth of the Bangladeshi textile worker’s wages who’s out to get you. It is all very very complicated.

Still, for the sake of argument, let’s imagine that your spontaneous yet earnest campaign of hatred (social justice?) bears fruit and a popular uprising of the Not-so-rich leads to a systematic extermination of the abhorred Rich. Then what? Won’t it be heaven on earth when all supply chains collapse, planes fall out of the sky, hospitals close down and law firms disintegrate (ok, maybe I could live with the latter)? Who will then take on responsibilities, and hard work, and problem solving, and incredibly long hours on a pro bono basis?

You maybe?  

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Hey baldy, I’ve got my eye on you…

Shouty, tuneless and loud*

But boy did the crowd lap it up. 
Yer wan from the Fontaines DC sounds like someone’s drunken cousin who howls into a microphone when the wedding band gives up and lets him “sing” a cover of the Pogues at 2.00am and everybody thinks he’s shite, except your Aunty Chris who is convinced that her little Grian has some talent. 
Well tonight there were 20,000 Aunty Chrises in the Iveagh Gardens, singing their hearts out with little Grian. 
The daughter really enjoyed it, and so did I. There is something contagious about thousands of people together being very very happy. 
For a band that doesn’t have a singer, the Fontaines DC can definitely electrify a crowd. I think that they have a thing for the Pogues, and sure enough Shane McGowan at his most slurred sounds like Luciano Pavarotti compared to Grian Chatten. 
But it worked. We had a great time. Once again Mimi had a tear in her eye. Two week ago at the Villagers, it was from the shock of being in presence of so much beauty (I welled up too at one stage). Tonight the tear in her eye was from getting so much recycled grass smoke blown into her face. 

* J.C.G., famous Scottish rock critic 

“Look at me! Look at me! I am your biggest fan!”
“Look at us! Look at us! We’re your biggest fans!”

“Look at me! Look at me! I’ve got a plastic cup not quite filled
with overpriced lukewarm partially alcoholised beverage!!”
ireland

Shouty, tuneless and loud*

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