Who pooped on the rug? That’s the question before us. The cleaners at St Paul’s say someone did and I’m sure it wasn’t the Bishop of London. The Occupy-As-Near-As-We-Can-Get-To-The-Stock-Exchange spokesperson swears it wasn’t any of them. Who, then? Some agent provocateur from Fox News? I fear we may never know.
At Occupy Dame Street in Dublin they’re in for the long haul. ‘As long as it takes,’ is the word. But as long as it takes to do what? I’ve seen these protests described as ‘orchestrated envy’ but I can only think the word ‘orchestrated’ is being used ironically. Every protester seems to have his own agenda. So more like a chimpanzee scratch band than an orchestra. Maybe I should start Occupy Rathgar. I know what I want: music banned from all pubs, restaurants and shops and strict enforcement of correct use of the apostrophe. Yeah. I’ll be the Rathgar One. And if Mr F brings along his Arctic Humungo-Tog Duvet we’ll be the Rathgar Two.
Actually there’s something else going on at St Paul’s that disturbs me. I discovered today that one can have a seated dinner for 250 people in its crypt and, AND, a drinks’ reception in the space around Nelson’s tomb. I mean. Is that tasteless, or what? I also learned today that Nelson is in a second-hand sarcophagus. It was originally made for Cardinal Wolsey and, well, it just goes to show. Best not to make grandiose funeral plans ahead of time.
I’ll conclude today’s tour of Aimless Activism at Wall Street, where it all began. Zuccotti Park is apparently getting a bit whiffy – a blend of armpit, wacky baccy and patchouli with a sharp top note of stale urine – but this hasn’t deterred Pete Seeger from tottering down there on his walking sticks. It does show incredible… something or other… in a 92 year old. And yes Pete, I do have a hammer. I have a claw hammer and a ballpeen and if Susan Sarandon or Michael Moore show up in Dublin 6 I may just use both.