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Our city is full of landmarks, art, and people. However, there was one honorary Dubliner who could claim to be all three; Tom McGinty, aka The Diceman. Thomas McGinty (1952 – 1995) was born in Glasgow to Scots-Irish parents. His career as a performer arguably started when he became an altar boy in his local parish. The costume, performance, and pageantry appealed to him. As a young adult, Thom dabbled in a far more conventional life when he studied accountancy at Strathclyde University. Yet it was there that he was exposed to acting and the stage when he joined the Strathclyde Theatre Group. He dropped out of accountancy and travelled across the Irish Sea to pursue an artistic life. He arrived in our great city in the depressing and dangerous year of 1976. He had £40 in his pocket and feck all employment prospects in a town that had fallen out of love with starving artists. He began by begging, albeit elegantly, in the Dandelion Market. Incognito as a white-faced clown, statue still and silent. Bearing a sign saying “In love with the country but unable to get employment, please give generously.” The 24-year-old started using his body itself as a form of expression, albeit expressing someone else's vision, when he began working as a nude life model at the National College of Art and Design. The Diceman got his name from an early modelling job he did for "The Diceman Games Shop," an arcade on Grafton Street. When that place went out of business, other retailers like Bewley's café poached him as a beloved human advertisement who was impossible to ignore. In an area swarming with every variety of busker and performer, and with equally various levels of talent, the Diceman needed to stand out. He utilised his unique physicality and presence to become a human statue, or as he called it a "stillness artist." His catatonic state would only be broken by a generous donation of money into the cap by his feet, which earned a trademark pantomime wink of gratitude or saucy pout and smile. He cut his teeth performing in the Dandelion Market, which used to be a centre for artistic and Bohemian culture beside Stephen's Green. That character, the "Dandelion Clown," made him a bit of a landmark. As his fame grew, seeing him became a box to tick for visitors to the city, art students, gay people, and photographers. An RTE vox pop broadcast from the Grafton Street area was incomplete without a Diceman gurn. This rare peacock in a city of crows would attract large crowds, which could bring pedestrian traffic to a standstill. A master of disguise, the shoppers never knew which incarnation they would get. Sacred Heart, Dandelion clown, a condom, a Parisian showgirl, Cupid, a golden Greek bust, a daffodil, a sailor, or Dracula. My favourite was his framed Mona Lisa, complete with an inscrutable smile. McGinty would cheekily walk in robotic slow-motion when Gardaí tried to move him on. He often used the Coffee Inn on St Anne's Street as his dressing room. In the summer of 1991, McGinty was charged with a "breach of the peace." Gardaí claimed the loincloth he was wearing at the time exposed his arse and was "likely to offend public decency." McGinty decided to use this new higher profile for more than just funding a very modest artists living. He began to promote human rights issues and political causes. This often put him at odds with a Catholic Church, which was in its last desperate throes, sensing the end of its unquestioned control of the people. Dublin has an almost supernatural ability to produce "street characters." Colourful and chaotic individuals who are remarkable yet underappreciated until they are gone. Zozimus, Bang Bang, Johnny Forty Coats. People who personify creativity, art, or even just the mystique aesthetic of an old testament prophet. The Diceman was in this tradition, but thankfully, he was very much celebrated in his lifetime >>>concludes in comments

Thomas McGinty (1952–95) was born in Glasgow to Scots-Irish parents. He arrived in Dublin in 1976 with £40 in his pocket and began begging, albeit elegantly, in the Dandelion Market. Incognito as a white-faced clown, statue-still and silent. Bearing a sign saying “In love with the country but unable to get employment, please give generously.” He worked as a nude life model in the National College of Art and Design. The Diceman got his name from an early role he did for "The Diceman Games Shop," an arcade on Grafton Street. When that place went out of business, other retailers like Bewley's café poached him as a beloved human advertisement, a "stillness artist." His catatonic state would only be broken by a generous donation of money into the cap by his feet, which earned a trademark pantomime wink of gratitude or saucy pout and smile. A master of disguise, the shoppers never knew which incarnation they would get. Sacred Heart, Dandelion clown, a condom, a pariseann showgirl, Cupid, a golden Greek bust, a daffodil, a sailor, or Dracula. My favourite was his framed Mona Lisa, complete with an inscrutable smile. McGinty would cheekily walk in robotic slow-motion when Gardaí tried to move him on. He often used the Coffee Inn on St Anne's Street as his dressing room. McGinty decided to use this new higher profile for more than just funding a very modest living. He began to promote human rights issues and political causes. This often put him at odds with a Catholic Church, which was in its last desperate throes, sensing the end of its unquestioned control of the people. As his talents and influence grew, he set up The Dandelion Theatre Company whilst staying in the town of Baile Éamon near Spiddal in Galway. He appeared as the executioner in Steven Berkoff’s production of Oscar Wilde's "Salomé" in the Gate Theatre in 1989. It was such a success that it moved to the Edinburgh Festival and even South Carolina. Other international feathers in his thespian cap were theatrical roles across Europe and Russia. He even managed to achieve the showbiz holy-of-holies twice...two appearances as a guest on The Late Late with Uncle Gaybo. His chameleon likeness appeared on the cover of trendy magazines like Hot Press, tabloid rags and broadsheets alike. From a humble street performer, McGinty was now celebrated as a "Dublin institution" and a "gay icon". But there was an invisible spectre haunting the streets of Dublin in the 80s and 90s. A new "gay cancer" called AIDS was devastating young men across the world. Incurable and untreatable, even the mention of its name terrified and repulsed the Irish public. Whilst the fear of this fatal disease was understandable, it gave rise to an often violent stigma. All gay men, or those thought to be gay, became potentially infectious untouchables. Rather than being seen as victims, many believed they were perverts and criminals being punished by God. Dublin, in those dark days, was a perfect storm. Homosexuality was illegal. Receiving health education, treatment, or contraception was near impossible. Gay men were daily victims of violence, robbery, extortion, and murder. You could be made unemployed and unemployable for even the rumour you were a homosexual. The culprits acted with impunity, knowing the victims couldn't go to the Gardaí. Even the Gardaí themselves were involved in harassment and blackmail against middle class gay men on a shocking scale. Yet the relative anonymity of Dublin proved a draw for desperate and lonely queer youth from around the country.

Thomas McGinty (1952–95) was born in Glasgow to Scots-Irish parents. He arrived in Dublin in 1976 with £40 in his pocket and began begging, albeit elegantly, in the Dandelion Market. Incognito as a white-faced clown, statue-still and silent. Bearing a sign saying “In love with the country but unable to get employment, please give generously.” He worked as a nude life model in the National College of Art and Design. The Diceman got his name from an early role he did for "The Diceman Games Shop," an arcade on Grafton Street. When that place went out of business, other retailers like Bewley's café poached him as a beloved human advertisement, a "stillness artist." His catatonic state would only be broken by a generous donation of money into the cap by his feet, which earned a trademark pantomime wink of gratitude or saucy pout and smile. A master of disguise, the shoppers never knew which incarnation they would get. Sacred Heart, Dandelion clown, a condom, a pariseann showgirl, Cupid, a golden Greek bust, a daffodil, a sailor, or Dracula. My favourite was his framed Mona Lisa, complete with an inscrutable smile. McGinty would cheekily walk in robotic slow-motion when Gardaí tried to move him on. He often used the Coffee Inn on St Anne's Street as his dressing room. McGinty decided to use this new higher profile for more than just funding a very modest living. He began to promote human rights issues and political causes. This often put him at odds with a Catholic Church, which was in its last desperate throes, sensing the end of its unquestioned control of the people. As his talents and influence grew, he set up The Dandelion Theatre Company whilst staying in the town of Baile Éamon near Spiddal in Galway. He appeared as the executioner in Steven Berkoff’s production of Oscar Wilde's "Salomé" in the Gate Theatre in 1989. It was such a success that it moved to the Edinburgh Festival and even South Carolina. Other international feathers in his thespian cap were theatrical roles across Europe and Russia. He even managed to achieve the showbiz holy-of-holies twice...two appearances as a guest on The Late Late with Uncle Gaybo. His chameleon likeness appeared on the cover of trendy magazines like Hot Press, tabloid rags and broadsheets alike. From a humble street performer, McGinty was now celebrated as a "Dublin institution" and a "gay icon". But there was an invisible spectre haunting the streets of Dublin in the 80s and 90s. A new "gay cancer" called AIDS was devastating young men across the world. Incurable and untreatable, even the mention of its name terrified and repulsed the Irish public. Whilst the fear of this fatal disease was understandable, it gave rise to an often violent stigma. All gay men, or those thought to be gay, became potentially infectious untouchables. Rather than being seen as victims, many believed they were perverts and criminals being punished by God. Dublin, in those dark days, was a perfect storm. Homosexuality was illegal. Receiving health education, treatment, or contraception was near impossible. Gay men were daily victims of violence, robbery, extortion, and murder. You could be made unemployed and unemployable for even the rumour you were a homosexual. The culprits acted with impunity, knowing the victims couldn't go to the Gardaí. Even the Gardaí themselves were involved in harassment and blackmail against middle class gay men on a shocking scale. Yet the relative anonymity of Dublin proved a draw for desperate and lonely queer youth from around the country.