There were two distinct elements to the demonstrations in Brussels on Monday.
The main bit, with the best part of a thousand tractors squeezing into the centre, was a show of sentiment – a demand to politicians to listen to the demands of farmers.
But then came the second bit – the confrontational bit that involved fires, fights and, well, manure.
That was the bit which will get the attention, of course, and observing it was a visceral experience.
The acrid smell of burning tyres and the occasional volley of tear gas from the police.
The drenching rain from above, combined with the countless gallons that flooded streets from the various water cannon dotted around the city.
At one point, we watched as a water cannon spent ages firing water at a fire burning at the side of the street.
The fire was just behind a barricade, and the water just kept bouncing off.
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After five minutes, and with the street now flooded, the water cannon was turned off.
The first immediately sprang back up, just as fierce as ever.
The noise was relentless.
The constant hoots from tractors, from the public address systems of an apparently endless line of farmers’ union leaders who wanted to make a speech, but mainly the cacophonous noise of small explosions.
Farmers have ready access to loud fireworks that they use to scare birds or, in this instance, the police or occasional journalists.
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One was rolled to the feet of my colleague and I, exploding with a loud bang that left us with ringing ears.
As we looked up, startled, a group of laughing, braying faces stared at us from a few yards away.
Time to leave…
