Esther McCarthy: The unwritten rules of the footpath are being trampled on

Esther McCarthy runs er... walks us through the worst offenders

Since when does lust require a 1.5 metre wingspan? Picture: iStock

One of the brilliant things about getting older is giving yourself permission be a fully fledged Giver Outer.

Man, the rush of the righteous, it’s intoxicating!

In this column, I’ve already had a go at a-holes on the Aircoach, music lovers on the beach, and humanity in general.

It’s an honour and a privilege and I thank you for it.

But never mind about the wars, climate destruction, sanctioned genocide, and the inevitability of Artificial Intelligence creating a Matrix-esque rise of the machines scenario in the not-too-distant future, where those of us who survive the cull will all be living like hunted rats in the sewers; the real terror we need to focus on is the Rise of the Pathhoggers.

What is wrong with people these days? Has walking in a normal fashion become too much for us as a species? Some people seem to forget a path is a shared resource, you know, like the Kinsale Road roundabout.

There are unwritten rules, and the whole mystery of it all only works if everyone indicates their intentions, rather than drifting into your lane because you just remembered you need to go to the Smyths in the South Ring retail park and not the one in town.

Allow me to walk you (no pun intended) through the worst offenders.

1. The hand-holders

Far be it from me to declare romance a public nuisance, but come on!

Does lust really need a 1.5-metre wingspan? Is dismantling your fingers from each other and walking in single file for eight seconds while a buggy passes, really too much to ask?

Is prising your palm out of your beloved’s back pocket on a narrow walkway so a pensioner doesn’t have to step out in front of a bus actually too much trouble?

And this is not confined to idiotic young people. Oh no. I’ve seen enough middle-aged couples with hands twined around each other on their evening walks to last me a lifetime.

What are ye DOING, still enjoying each other’s company? Cop on a small bit and one of ye walk slightly ahead of the other, muttering “He’s your fecking father, why am I cutting his horny old toenails?’ like normal Irish couples please.

2. The unbreakable teenage horizontal conga line

Hey, I was young once (I vaguely remember it, there was a snazzy perm, Beetle Crushers and a denim waistcoat involved) but come on! Why do they have to walk five across, like a giant eyerolling snake dressed in Northface? Has Gen Z evolved to have zero peripheral vision? Do they expect you to go out on the road?

Wait, are you invisible to them? Maybe their brains cannot compute leggings on anyone over 22?

Just give in and cross the road, because Moses himself couldn’t part this crowd.

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3. The leaders of the pack

When I was growing up, there was no such thing as Walking The Dog. Mutts were free-range back in the 1980s.

They ambled about, going about their day as they saw fit, and it was one less job for the mams to do. Our dog used to walk us to school, then he’d hang out in the driveway until we came home again. Then he’d walk up to the shop with us to get The Echo before dinner.

He had an arch enemy three doors down, a dog called Kelly, that he used to bark at every now and then for a bit of excitement. Ah the good old days.

But in these bad new days, I am amongst the most hated of The Pathhoggers – the dog walkers with retractable leads.

It’s basically a tripwire for normal passersby who are forced to do the limbo to get past, if the dog has decided to do what dogs do, stopping at abrupt, unpredictable stops to sniff wildly at a random gate, hedge, or piece of plop plops.

And finally, the worst offender of all, one that transcends gender, age, wage bracket, class and creed...

4. The dreaded phone zombie

Eyes down, neck slumped, jaw slack. Here they come, straight into your shoulder, without breaking their gaze away from the hypnotic screen. There is no hope for this cohort of Pathhogger.

Saying ‘Oh, I’m sooo so-huh-or-rrry’ in your most sarcastic voice has no absolutely effect either ; I can tell you this from bitter experience.

So there you have it. Be careful out there on the paths.

And if anyone has the misfortune to come across a loved-up group of teenage couples walking their dogs while on their phones, may the lord have mercy on your soul.

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