I don't remember what it was that sparked my national pride; for as long as I can remember I've been cheerfully smug about being Irish. I do recall being very, very small, and watching an Ireland vs. England match on TV with my oldies, and announcing that I was going to cheer for England because they had decided to cheer for Ireland."You can't do that," I was told. "You're Irish. You can't cheer for England."This puzzled me; it was obviously before we learned the 800-years-chant at school (if... Continue reading ...
With the Irish presidential election due for the end of the year, provided we're all still ALIVE by then and haven't been sold into SLAVERY by dapper foreign accountants who see our populace as haphazard rows of unsecured one-armed bandits with pint rings all over our laps, chitter-chatter has turned to possible candidates and the reasons we wouldn't vote for them.
"David Norris could be your next president of Ireland, hoho!"
"Pfft! Feckin' nancy boy. Feckin' ... feckin' ... nancy boy."
The repe... Continue reading ...
Divil a bit: Irish slang, a jovial answer to a what-are-y'up-ta, meaning "nothing at all".
Scribble a bit: Irish blog, by Irish writer, containing nothing at ... Oh.
