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On Friday the 29th of March I witnessed my first Luas ticket validation regime. It was a cold, ruthless, and totalitarian procedure. It was a moment that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I sat stock still beside the next young tracksuit clad victim.
We quivered in fear, clinging to one another, wondering whether we would make it home without a fine. The officers patrolled menacingly up and down, their steel toed combat boots, obscured by baggy civilian denim trousers. The ring leader was the most menacing of them all, and carried with him some form of modern lie detector device which would admit a series of beeps sealing the fate of each unfortunate passenger.
Finally the moustachioed, broad shouldered inspector reached our shared seat. I barely survived the experience “YOU HAVE 20 CENT LEFT ON THIS CARD? THAT WON’T GET YOU FAR WILL IT DARLING EH?”.
I ferociously shook my head, beads of perspiration gathering in the furrows of my brow. He moved on to the young ruffian beside me, whose knuckledusters clanked together from the tremor of fear in his hands.. “Eh mister I forgot me ticket I was just getting a few cans I will get off now loike”.
“HEINRICH WE HAVE A DIRTY INTRUDER HERE! OFF THE LUAS NOW SIR SCHNELL! YOU VILL NOT DISTURB THE PEACE OR DISRUPT THE VOLKGMEINSHAFT?!
Other passengers adverted their eyes focusing on their phone screens or laptops just wanting to get home to their families safely. “ARENT YIZ GOING TO DO SOMETHING? HES MAN HANDLING ME LOIKE”. This was the last anyone saw of young Damo, nary again would we hear the rustle of his tracksuit, or the clank of his beer cans. We heard his screams as he writhed on the ground at the mercy of the officers.
Two sniffer dogs tore apart his tracksuit and their teeth pierced into the aluminium cans of red bull and Heineken. A foam river dribbled down the platform mingled with the blood of the young Damo. I averted my gaze and stifled a sob as the Luas gathered in speed.
Shortly afterwards I engaged on a path of investigative journalism which lead me to uncover some of the Irish Transport Authorities best kept secrets. Where did they source such meticulous workers with quaint german mantras and ruthless mannerisms? I attended the Transdev Headquarters meeting to ascertain what exactly the most loathed members of society would endeavour to do next.
I knew the journey was one I must make alone. I travelled deep into the bowels of Clondalkin, fearful for my safety. Upon reaching Trasdev Headquarters I ensured to dress like the other inspectors so I would blend undetected in to my surroundings.With my Khaki Uniform and black steel capped boots I easily assimilated into the gathering Crowds as we assembled in the Courtyard. The Moustachioed inspector stood at the podium, and was gesticulating wildly, spittle spraying from the corners of his mouth.
“DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY HAS ACCUMULATED FROM TICKET FRAUDULENCE OVER THE PAST YEAR? ALMOST ONE MILLION EURO!! FOR OUR COUNTRY WE MUST ACT QUICKER, AND CLAMP DOWN UPON THESE LOW LIFE SCUMBAGS! SIEG HEIL!IRELAND WILL HAVE ZE BEST TRANSPORT SYSTEM IN EUROPE! WE WILL INFILTRATE, WE WILL ASSUME CONTROL, WE WILL OVERCOME! LET DUBLIN BE THE CITY OF THE FOURTH REICH!!
I reeled back in shock, as the unanimous chanting of “sieg heil” became louder and more overbearing. Two bald eagles were released and circled the sky. I remained present for the initiation of another four inspectors, whom were flown in from the newly formed socialist Reich party of Hamburg.
I would warn every prospective passenger to please validate their ticket, and top up their leap card.
It may be the last thing you do.
Read more from The Honorary Hunzo HERE