| 13.2°C Dublin

Ed Sheeran can now sell out Croker ... twice! I nearly choked on my crisp sambo

One of the best things to happen this week was undoubtedly the news that a shop dedicated to selling Tayto crisp sandwiches is to open shortly in Wicklow Street. In a world where you can hardly listen to the radio, turn on the telly or open a newspaper without coming across programmes or articles berating people over their weight, this can only be a very good thing indeed.

Although health fascists would like us to think that such things are being done for the greater good what, in effect, is happening is that overweight people are being bullied into feeling bad about themselves.

In a climate where bullying via the cowardly, anonymous medium of the Twitterverse has reached epidemic proportions, this is just another manifestation of that problem.


One of the problems I foresee with the chip sambo shop though is that it's a 'pop up' enterprise which will only be in operation for ten days.

Now, when I hear the phrase 'pop up' my blood runs cold for, dear people, here be hipsters.

I'm as partial to a bag of cheese 'n' onion between two slices of well-buttered batch as the next person, but I get the distinct feeling that this outlet will be swarmed with beardy types doing so in a 'Gosh, aren't we ironic?' sort of way.

I thought we'd reached Peak Hipster a year or so back but on the evidence of what happened a couple of nights ago, we clearly haven't.

A taxi I happened to be travelling in almost creamed some doofus as he walked across the street without looking where he was going.

The chap looked disdainfully at the cabbie and went on his way.

Naturally, he was bearded to boot and happened to be wearing the type of over-sized scarf not seen since the days of Tom Baker in Dr Who.

Enough! I'm not denying any generation the opportunity to look like tools, but this merchant really took the Marietta.

This prompted the notion that the whole tribal rivalry which was so much a part of youth culture down the decades has effectively gone for good.

Do Hipsters chase gangs of Emos around the Central bank of a Saturday afternoon? Where are the good old days of Mods vs Rockabillys, Punks vs Skins or even inter-band rivalries like Blur vs Oasis?

One would like to imagine that there's some underground Fight Club scene going on whereby the Ed Sheeran Crew arrange for a dust-up with the Sam Smith Casuals at the far duck pond in the Green some Sunday but, alas, that's likely to remain a solitary dream.

Speaking of Ed Sheeran, how in the name of God did he manage to sell out two gigs at Croke Park in less than an hour?

I know that the numbers don't lie and he managed a handful of sold-out 3Arena shows last year, but I'm genuinely mystified that his appeal stretched to 160,000.

For the record, he seems like a nice chap and I'd probably be more than happy to go for a beer with him - provided he kept well away from his guitar - but those stats are staggering.


Part of the appeal seems to be that the Croker shows are a day out for the entire family, Ed appealing to the mammies and even the grannies as much as the teenage girlies.

Hell, even the dads can come along too, a scenario utterly unthinkable at any point in recent pop history.

I would have been absolutely mortified had my da suggested tagging along to Slade in the Stadium, the Clash in Trinity, or Suede in the Tivoli - and that's as it should be. Or at least used to be.

Mind you, I still break out into a little smile when I see gangs of black-clad teenagers queuing outside the Academy in the middle of the day for some band I've never even heard of. Nice to know that the natural order of things still exists somewhere.