Street Hassle

On being hassled by the jack booted boys in blue for simply trying to advertise Mayday.

In the meantime let me start this contribution with a poem by Pat Ingolsby.

CONVERSATION WITH A GARDA IN
GRAFTON STREET

A couple of years back I paused in Grafton Street
and leaned against a litter bin to listen to a busker.

A large garda appeared beside me.

“Are you selling anything that you shouldn’t be selling?”
he said.

“I’m just enjoying the sunshine and the music”

“Yeah but are you selling anything that you shouldn’t
be selling”

“I’m simply enjoying the music.”

PAUSE

“You’re wearing an awful lot of jewellery all the same.”

“That is none of your business” I said.

“I was just making conversation” he said.

Lovely.



I myself have enjoyed a number of conversations over the last week with the Gardaí. One conversation was with two undercover boys, tubs and Crockett, we shall call them who caught me red handed putting a sticker about may day on a lamppost. I was informed that it was a ‘serious offence’ which I found unlikely given number of crimes that these boys have to solve.

Crockett asked me if I had a problem with the gards and I rapidly responded “NO.” To respond yes to this question would be comparable to ticking the yes box to the question “Are you an international terrorist?” on the USA landing form. Not a good idea.
Then more recently I was meeting up with some friends at the Central bank and walked away from them when I saw the squad car pull up in front of us. Lo and behold if another boy in blue didn’t appear in front of me, unfolding his notebook and looking for my name and address. My response this time was a little less controlled. “What the fuck is this about? Have I broken a law, hanging outside the Central bank with friends….Every Saturday you could arrest a hundred teenagers if that’s against the law.” I was informed to be nice, he was only doing his job, and that I was ‘loitering.’ I love when they invoke some ancient brit law to hassle, you. I refused to give them my date of birth, as they want that for their Pulse database of dangerous people who disseminate ideas against Capitalism. You do no have to give them your date of birth.

Cop no. 2 was busy taking the names of my friends when I re-joined them. I told him there were two cyclists having a conversation over there and would he care to take their names also. He gave the same line; I’m just doing my job. Well I’m sick of that fucking line. You make decisions in your life or you’re a dead fish, going with the flow. You DECIDE to become a police man and that means you put yourself on a side. Your job is to hassle people who are trying to orgainse peaceful protests. Your job is to intimidate activists and people from abroad. Your job is to remove your numbers and batter people if you so wish. Your job is to break picket lines in strikes so that scabs can get though. I’ve been political and working for over twelve years in Dublin and the only time I’ve ever seen violence on a demo was when the cops lost the run of themselves. DECIDE on a better job boy, and let people get on with organising peaceful protests.