Well, that was a strange week and no mistake. Yet again, the lack of proper policing in the centre of the capital was splashed across the newspapers and broached on the radio.
We had pictures of a chap appearing to attempt sex with a motorbike in broad daylight in (where else?) T***** B**, while tourists looked on aghast.
Now, that'd almost be funny if it weren't for the fact that only days earlier several outlets ran with stills of junkies injecting themselves in the groin only yards away from where that incident took place.
That part of town is a jungle, with law and order having broken down to all intents and purposes.
On Wednesday's Liveline we had representatives of local businesses and councillor Mannix Flynn bemoaning the way the streets of our capital city have effectively been handed over to scumbags and lowlifes.
People swinging golf clubs at each other on Ormond Quay, a tourist being robbed as he saved a man from drowning and, of course, the eventual jailing of the three thugs who attacked two Americans back in 2012, leaving one of them with glass embedded under his eye to this day.
Elsewhere, there was the small matter of the Middle East.
Naturally, there were calls for boycotts of all Israeli goods from the usual wishy-washy lefties, most of whom conveniently forgot to think their way through the argument (there's a thing!) and realised that all those keyboard warriors would instantly be silenced given that practically every smartphone and laptop on the market uses chip technology made in ... go on, guess.
And while those brave, brave anti-Jewish protesters were putting stickers on Israeli fruit in Marks & Spencers, they weren't exactly screaming from the rooftops about how several thousand Palestinians have been slaughtered in Syria in recent months by the Islamist savages of Isis.
That selfsame mob also happen to have 40,000 Zoroastrians trapped up a mountain in Northern Iraq, depriving them of food and water and letting them know in no uncertain terms that they can either die of dehydration or be butchered if they come down.
Reasonable chaps, those Isis lads but, clearly, not worth getting worked up over when there's a democratic country in the region to attract your ire. Ah yes, that Arab Spring really worked out a treat, didn't it?
Still, we can trust Lord Mayor Christy Burke to get his mug into print most weeks and he hasn't let us down over the past seven days.
He was at the Horse Show the other day and mentioned how he'd love to use the official coach more.
In one respect he's right, as this vehicle is a magnificent piece of craftsmanship (I must declare a bias here as my Da painted some of the gold leaf which decorates it) which deserves not to be kept in mothballs.
But, if I recall correctly, when former IRA jailbird Christy was first granted the position of First Citizen he contemplated dropping the word 'Lord' from his title, given that it smacked of the godforsaken Brits. And now he'd love a few more goes in the fancy coach?
And to top things off we have a Leonard Cohen festival taking place over the weekend which was declared open by none other than the bould Burkey himself.
I'm sure the performers at Hallelujah in Liberty Hall will all be sincere types, but they really should have restaged Once By Fire, the musical about the Holocaust set to Lenny's tunes.
This stank out the Dublin Theatre Festival a few years back in what was generally agreed by critics to be the most ill-judged a theatrical production since Springtime For Hitler. Now that, I'd pay good money to see.