There is a noisy island of demonstration in city square, with a small fringe of bored police. This blob of humanity fills just enough space to fit the viewing angle of a TV camera lens. I can see it 100 metres away, too far to read the placards but you can bet they are mass produced anyway. Predictably, nobody gives the demonstration a second glance, but there is something oddly irritating about it. Suddenly it strikes me. The chanting itself is pre-recorded and on a tape loop like the canned laughter of a failed comedy show. This is the sort of thing you’d think governments would stage to prove that they allow true democracy. Wow, whatever their cause, these people are losers. Maybe the demonstrators are just going through a biological phase, like the teen girls who want bad-boy boyfriends, the the bad-boy boyfriends with their painted on designer savagery, quaking inside.