I was working in Stillorgan on Monday night. I had the dubious pleasure of sitting in a bus for a few hours observing a sample of a typical Monday evening's entertainment in Stillorgan.

I have taxied around Dublin at all hours of the day and night, so nothing shocks me, nothing at all. But from my hour's observations on what should have been a calm, quiet night, the teenage quotient of Dublin 4 were out parading their priveleged upbringing and gentlemanly manners. I had brought a book to read, but I was too distracted by the carry on outside.

First there was an old wino, harmless old divil, being beseiged by a gang of young ones, to the point where he was bawling at them to leave him alone. A middle aged guy passing by tried to move them on, but as soon as he crossed the road, they went back to cause more hassle.

One young one of about 16 caught my eye, standing nearby in discussion with a group. In the space of just an hour, she lit and smoked four cigarettes, interspersed with hawking and spitting boogers on the ground all around her. Not to mention the guttural language she was using. Lovely.

Another group of young ones tottered back and forth for the hour, on high heels, miniskirts, and drunk as skunks. They must have spent all their drinking money, as they seemed to spend the entire evening just marauding around the main street with no purpose or direction.

Security from Bondi Beach appeared continuously, marching purposefully up and down, as if looking for someone.

To cap it all, a mother arrived to collect her daughter from Bondi Beach. Said young one was wearing a flimsy top, no skirt, and the tiniest pair of knickers you ever saw. She was marched all the way from Bondi to the main street, with everything on display, between her mother and a young guy, who were basically carrying her, as she was drunk to a state of oblivion.

There were young guys around, but all of this drunken hassle was a result of young girls of about 15 or 16. Dozens of them. Guess what? This was between 8pm and 9pm!!! I dread to imagine what it was like later.

My purpose in Stillorgan was to deliver a group of Spanish students of similar age to the bowling alley. The difference in character could not be more polar. The Spanish students were lovely kids, laughing and joking and in great spirits. What an embarrassment to deposit them in the middle of affluent Stillorgan, to witness the carry on of our own.

Is this the legacy of the Bertie years? A generation of soulless teenagers, destined to an empty life of drinking their parents' wealth, followed by a later life a prisoner of lung and liver damage, and a huge drain on whatever is left of our health service when their day comes?

You need to be quite strong willed not to be depressed by it. It's one of the reasons I gave up taxiing. Looking at it night after night made me sick.