Not pretty enough, it would seem

The county folks don't like the city.

What's new, says you.

In fairness, we've made a few changes from back in the day when city centre parking meant abandoning the car on a derelict scrap on Shannon Street.

We have blue lights now. And fancy new glass avenues. And those bubble-wrap style pavement slabs that cut the feet off you if you're wearing suit shoes. What's not to like?

It's not about amenities, it seems. It's about pumping enough logs to take down the Drago that is the Crescent, with it's abundant parking, ease of access, better quality of shops, eighteen places to get a smoothie and two tv screens that always show the soccer.

In truth, this is going to turn out to be as much of a contest as Roberto Duran taking on a horse.

Though I did hear that in the Crescent recently one lovely lady - you know, the kind who gather there on Sunday evenings wearing skirts the size of gloves and more gold than a Persian rapper - took a dump on the changing room floor of a major clothes retailer, just because she felt like it.

Classy.

The Crescent is still the number one place to burn your money.
Just be careful where you step.