In Praise of Rough Oysters

Down and out, outside of Paris and London

There is no shortage, says I, of rough oysters around here.

Yes, says Byrne, agreeing with me for once as we walk down the street. Before us, a grey-skinned man, down and out and wending his way along the footpath on a very small bicycle, approaches us and shakes his cup entreatingly – we pass him by.

This city, says I, has gone to the dogs.

It’s a good th…