What was happening to the city was rubbing out Bobby Ranger's life. Five years back she had a routine. It was simple. Get up in the morning, sort out your domestic business: shopping,whatever. Midday you'd hit the Custom House, get your girl out there on the street, working the lunchtime beat, while you sat inside having a laugh, game of pool. Back to the pub again in the evening. Then, as soon as your girl had made her corn, you'd head off, get something to eat-Red Onion, Taurus Steak House- then down the docks to the North Star, little club full of ship guys, lesbians, prostitutes and queers. Stay there chilling out, dance, fight, whatever.