There you are walking down the road and you see the flash of a luminous colour of some kind, and you know it's time to cross the road. Or time to put on your I-am-very-important-and-am-doing-very-important-things persona. You're suddenly late and your pace picks up to a pace that would shame road runner. Because we both know what a luminous colour coupled with a Cheshire cat smile means don't we? Fundraisers. Smiley, in-your-face, annoying fundraisers.
If I were to ask the general public of the British Isles what the number one annoyance is on a shopping trip to central wherever, I could hazard a guess at charity fundraisers. Or maybe a close second behind those soul-shredding parking rules.
Why are they talking to you? Why are they disturbing your day? Why don't they get a PROPER JOB? Do they not realise you already give to your own chosen charities? Why is this bucket in your way? Why is this clipboard blocking my way to Superdrug?!?! They're just students wanting an extra buck from the commission. They're just weed-smoking, dreadlock-wielding, baggy-trousered tree-huggers. Life would be so much easier without them.
But then again, a lot of stuff and people would die without them.