The rare occasions I give money to beggars, I tell them to treat themselves to a tin of Special Brew- or whatnot. It’s what they’ll do anyway and I can’t stand the sanctimonious twats who hand money over with a list of conditions attached (which will obviously be ignored anyway).
Nothing like the gappy grin of gratitude off a street drinker on a summer’s day, as you hand over a fiver with a cheerful, “Have a litre or two of white lightning on me my good man, and don’t neglect to urinate in the street”.
Gives me a bit of a lift.