crime in Dun Laoghaire

Vandals target disused Dun Laoghaire shop

Shite, I think my finger prints are clearly visible between Clinton and Bryson…

This gag is as old as the Pet Shop Boys and as revolutionary as a Che Guevara t-shirt but it still makes me laugh.

And god knows laughs were in short supply in the Mistake Factory today…

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Bill-advised attempt at anarchic humour

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Not the passports, no, they are pretty much at the top of my list.
P.M.T. Passports, money, tickets.

And yes, the passports. We tend to take them for granted, don’t we? Ok, there is the bit of hassle when they need to be renewed, and the foraging in drawers, not quite remembering where they were put away last.
But we have them.
I wonder what the percentage of passport ownership is, in the global population?
That little piece of officialdom that grants you that most precious of gifts: freedom of movement.
I never take it for granted.
Each time I pack my passport, I remember the long hours spent translating refugee applications for the Irish Department of Justice. Mostly from Congolese asylum seekers.
With no passport, often no other form of identification.
No papers, no identity, no freedom, not much hope.
Awaiting deportation.

I never take it for granted.

That little piece of officialdom that allows me to pass through ports.

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Easily forgotten

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Month after month after month I see it fail miserably at biodegradability.
This one was dumped at least eight months ago.
The health-conscious shithead in need of the vitamin from this delicious and 100% natural mango and passion fruit smoothie is one smooth criminal.

Why do you toss it, tosser?

Next time, bag it, scumbag!

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Innocent my arse

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O the glamour

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When JJ and Willie Joe signed for the Lifeguard training course, they mostly had visions of a non-too-decrepit Pamela Anderson running on the beach, like in the VHS videos that their uncle Seamus was still playing in a loop in the late 90s (there wasn’t much going on in the Wicklow hills back then…)

Hoods up to get some protection from the icy cold wind and regular flasks of hot tea were not part of the master plan…

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Bonding time

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Brian insisted on spending some quality time with little Lucy every Saturday afternoon.
Monday to Friday, the corporation monopolised most of his woken hours and Sunday was the day when he studied for his MBA (online, over 7 years)
But Saturday afternoon was his special time with his special 2 year old.
Rain or shine.

Saturday afternoon was for bonding.

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Con

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