Torch Pong Soliloquy

I was in Limerick city centre today. Limerick features regularly in the media for the relatively high level of gangland crime occurring there. What surprises me, though, is the fact that we don't hear more about instances of spontaneous human combustion taking place there.

Or, indeed, in any other area in the country where tracksuits predominate. A leisurely stroll down William Street this afternoon meant I shared the pavement with a variety of tracksuit-clad folk in varying shapes, sizes and ages. All of whom, and I mean, ALL, were smoking fags. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't nylon flammable? I don't smoke, nor do I wear cheap synthetic sportswear so I'm not an authority on this stuff.

I watched them expecting one of them to turn into a human torch at any moment. My hypothesis, unfortunately, went unfounded for today.

But I did experience some form of interaction with them. "Hoy, ya, bitch, what da fuck are ya lookin' at?" - which I took to mean "Excuse me, young lady, but I couldn't help noticing you looking in my direction. May I inquire as to what interested you about my appearance?"

Fascinating subspecies. Now Bill Oddie should be watching them - feck Springwatch - let's call it Scobewatch.