I find great joy in municipal pursuits. The most exhilarating form of unscripted thrill for me is indeed a local council discourse. For instance, a fiery town hall dialogue centred around parking restrictions provides more amusement than any television reality series could ever muster. Why would I opt to view overly bleached, overly thin females squabble over wine when the residents of Dalkey share their frustrations akin to those of the Palestinians confined in Gaza relating to bike lanes and the subsequent constrictions imposed on vehicular traffic? Additionally, this entertainment doesn’t require a subscription.
The relentless battle with canine excrement on our pavements continually blazes. The impacted victims, up to this point, include wheelchair users’ hands, pram wheels, spanking new shoe soles and inquisitive children disastrously discovering that the brown objects dotting the sidewalk are anything but stones. What number of sneakers must be ruined? How many more welcome mats will need to be discarded before we collectively realise the absurdity of this situation and put an end to it?
We would all like to believe that we would have supported the morally upright side if we were around during pivotal historical struggles. We are certain that we would have been adversaries of Hitler. Likewise, in the fan split between team Jennifer and team Angelina, ideally, we would have identified Brad Pitt as the instigator. Albeit the clarity of hindsight, the dog excrement war of 2024 offers one definite side to rally behind. Observing your cherished pet defecate on the footpath and then choosing to ignore it demands a unique level of disregard for your fellow citizens, whose shoes and wheels will inevitably stumble upon it.
So, when I received whispers that certain Dubliners were strategising a fresh campaign to combat the dog excrement issue, my interest was piqued. Chalk illustrations began to feature around the residual canine faecal matter on pavements, perfectly encapsulating them as though they were evidence labelled “Exhibit A” in a courtroom. The dotted line indicated a handwritten message in block letters instructing the offender to take responsible action, without the addition of a courtesy phrase.
Die-hards depositing dog poo, young miscreants and traffic rule violators of Dublin: this scribe was clearly missed off the circulation list for the avoidance confrontation memo.
I have been functioning with fewer than five hours of sleep since November. The cure? Tales from the British royal family.
In a community group chat, the conversation veered towards hiring a private detective for a particular case. One participant revealed that they had been in touch with a PI ready to generate a court-ready report featuring identities and photo proof, for just under €1,000, and was looking for contributors to the cost.
Within the Irish context, it seems that the rule of thumb regarding direct confrontations mirrors the advice given about staring straight at the sun: a resounding ‘no’. While I am indeed a strong advocate for community funding of private investigations into minor infractions, I think alternative strategies could be deployed. Proactively addressing the offender while the misdemeanor is happening seems to be less labour-intensive than employing a professional to stake out the locality. This is even more so when we consider that in the preceding four years, only a single penalty for dog fouling was actually settled within the jurisdiction of Dublin City Council.
To give them their due, perhaps this approach had previously been tested unsuccessfully. But on the whole, it feels as if there has been a subtle societal move towards avoiding face to face confrontations. Instead of voicing their complaints while still at the restaurant, individuals prefer to post scathing reviews on platforms like Google or Yelp once they have exited and it is too late to rectify the issue. There are colleagues who are pleasant when communicating face-to-face, but seem to gain the courage to dispatch digital communiqués so impudent they provoke retaliation.
The previous ethos of “if you see something amiss, speak up” seems to have been replaced with a reluctance, or even a feeling of danger, to object to public misconduct, be it from anti-social dog owners or those who leave their feet on vacant train seats. An amplified layer of complexity is added when considering the cultural mindset in Ireland, which advocates an aversion to direct confrontation similar to the age-old guidance on avoiding looking directly at the sun.
Regrettably, in matters of emotion, I lack restraint. If I witness something objectionable, rest assured, I will make a point of it. This isn’t always straightforward. I informed my partner early on in our relationship that while his upbringing discouraged open expression of feelings, in my culture, women have been known to etch their emotions into men’s cars. Consequently, it was in our mutual best interest to reach a satisfactory compromise.
There’s a high probability that if you’re on the streets of Dublin and someone yelled “Use your signal, you nincompoop!” at you, it might have been me. I make no apologies for ensuring motorists use their turn signals prior to making a turn and not after. I also don’t hold back when I need to shout “It’s the pedestrian light” to drivers who ignore pedestrian crossings and nearly hit people.
Whilst I will not admit to any involvement in a potential offence, despite my companion riding a bicycle, I’m always poised and ready to use my loud voice when necessary, to maintain order (such as reminding people to clean up after their dogs). What I consider as a noteworthy joke, is that I am not averse to employing my vocal powers for causing good to be done.