Now it's really been christened

I just walked home in the early hours along Denmark Street. The Icon nightclub was pumping, taxis were pulling out, the usual late night scene.

Then, to my right, I spotted a drunken polo shirt sort of dude unabashedly whipping out his lad to drain the weasel, while maintaining disturbing and bleary eye-contact–daring me to look away.

Revolting enough as that was, he was actually pissing on a chuch; through the railings and gate of St Micheal's on to the granite exterior, to be exact.

Now as you know, I'm pretty committed to the anti-religious atheist agenda, but puh-leez! Even I found myself utterly shocked at this level of crudity. It's just in poor taste.

But should I really care? *Sigh* Limerick never ceases to amaze me.

P.S. Hey, I just remembered (after I wrote the title) I was baptised there myself!

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