NOWADAYS it seems like almost every street corner in Glasgow has a street beggar of some description standing or sitting hoping for some loose change.

 

Most people, myself included, tend to walk past without giving them a second glance.

But recently while waiting on a friend, I stood nearby and observed a dishevelled young guy, who looked to be in his twenties, huddled under a blanket begging for change.

"Spare some change please," was his plea as he raised a dirty paper cup.

To most of the passers-by he seemed to be invisible but, every now and then someone would stop to rustle in their pocket or bag for some coins to throw in his paper cup.

One thing I did observe was that it appeared to be mostly young people and students who were contributing.

That was, until a group of well meaning ladies who looked and sounded as though they had just come from ladies liquid lunch, stopped and huddled around the beggar.

"Now, I'm happy to give you a couple of pounds," one lady said as she fumbled in her purse while bending over the skinny unkempt young man. "So long as you can assure me you're not going to buy drugs."

"Naw missus."

In fairness the beggar would probably have agreed to anything to secure her cash.

"No way will I be buying drugs."

"I mean, I don't mind if you want to buy yourself a few cans of beer," the posh lady added, "so long as you're not buying drugs."

And I found myself wondering about her reasoning for condoning alcohol but not drugs.

But, as the ladies looked as though they had had a few drinks themselves, that probably answered my question.

All the while the young homeless guy was shaking his cup in the hope of some loose change from the group of well-to-do women who had now turned their attention to arguing with each other over the merits of giving cash to beggars.

And, more importantly, what, in their opinion any donations would be used for.

"What difference does it make what the guy buys with the money?" the posh lady's friend butted in.

"It'll be his money as soon as you give it to him."

"Well he really should be buying food," butted in another do-gooder.

"After all," added still another from the group, "we don't really know what the money will be used for."

And I thought to myself: "Anyone would think they were handing him a £50 note."

"Why don't we go to Greggs and buy him a cup of tea and a sausage roll," one of them voiced up.

"No wait."

Next minute a lady knelt down beside the scruffy beggar and rifled in her shopping bag.

"I have some spare Moroccan couscous and some sesame breadsticks if you're hungry," she offered.

I shook my head and thought: "Yeh, that's the answer to every street beggar's dream, couscous and breadsticks."

"I wouldn't thank you for that myself."

The beggar shook his head at the suggestion of food and no cash before the ladies each finally relented and dropped some change into his cup before sauntering off having done their good deed for the day.

Later, telling my friends about the incident, Mae enlightened us on how she recently very generously dipped into her purse and scooped out all of the loose change before handing it to an elderly man who was sitting on a dirty sodden blanket with a poor looking mutt beside him.

"That was kind of you," I said to my well meaning pal.

"Most people don't want anything to do with beggars."

"Well, I felt sorry for the dog," Mae replied without a hint of sarcasm.

"But you're right Janice, it did kind of backfire on me."

"How come?"

We were puzzled.

"Well, I hadn't realised that I had given the beggar every single penny I had in my purse," she laughed, "which meant that I had to go round my workmates begging for some change for my own lunch until Shona handed me a half eaten sandwich and the dregs of her Irn Bru."

We laughed as we all agreed that nobody knows when they might be in the position to beg for a pound or two.

And as they say, beggars can't be choosers.