As does virtually

precariously balanced on the ricketiest of trolleys with miniature wheels and no brakes, casually steering via plastic strings tied to a metal handle; completely indifferent as to what the consequences to life and limb might be, should they crash (there is currently a video circulating on Facebook, of one of them doing 60km/h, which was viewed 46 000 times at last count).

However, my fascination for some street people aside, I mostly find them bloody irritating.

As does virtually everyone I mention them to.

But they are an intriguing and, in a way, necessary component of our multilayered, polyglot society.

So why did I try to wipe out the juggler? Why didn’t I just drive around him? Undeniably the street people are a manifestation of how the government and society (us), have failed them.

That they have to spend long days in such generally unedifying pursuits, in Spartan surroundings, simply to scratch a living to survive, is wrong.

But when the surly juggler gave me the menacing accuse, I suppose, somewhere in the deep, dark, recesses of my mind, running him over seemed like a good way of obliterating his censure of my complicity in his circumstances.

In plain English: I hate being made to feel guilty.

However, after some reflection, I decided, rather than annihilate some poor