Have the Irish people a streak of snobbery? If we modelled ourselves on our imperial masters we should have: a quick look through David Cameron’s Cabinet (or that of Ed Milliband) would soon show you that the leaders of British society come from a wealthy elite who find it difficult to imagine, let alone experience what life is like for those they rule. But in Ireland we’re different. Aren’t we? We like a bit of craic and if someone can sing a song or kick a football or tell a story, sure that’s what we measure them by, not what class they come from or what money they have. Right?
You’d never have guessed it if you’d watched the TV programme about Tony – oops, Sir Anthony O’Reilly on RTÉ the other night. To say that a glowing picture was presented of the Golden Boy, from his early years in Belvedere College through the establishment of Kerrygold, his reign as King of Heinz, through his two marriages, several children and his financial adventures in Waterford Glass, oil, down to and including his ownership of the Independent and other newspapers. The programme presented him as a sort of glittering Kennedy figure, with the AIB the villain of the piece for daring to ask for their money back, thus bringing the knight errant to his financial knees in his grey hairs.
But it’s when we turn in on ourselves we show the world our worst side. Everybody – well, some people – saw Gregory Campbell’s by-now-infamous ‘Curry my yoghurt’ witticisms as sad for any number of reasons, but principally two: that he would think it funny to mock people who don’t speak English all the time, and (sadder still) that he would have made the lame catch-phrase because he knew it would go down well with the people he hopes will re-elect him in six months.
Saddest of all, though, are those toffee-nosed people who delight in pointing out that Shinners who preface their speeches with a phrase or sentence in Irish often have no more than the cupla focal. Contrasts are drawn between the leaping grace of the Gaeilge of Michael D Higgins and the lumbering assaults on the language by Gerry Adams.
As I’ve made clear in my responses to one of our irregular respondents to this blogsite, you’d go a long way to find a better example of linguistic snobbery.For those who dare to speak Irish and do so imperfectly the curled lip and the raised eyebrow are at the ready. It’s as if you either produced elegant fully-formed Irish from your first utterance or you must sing mum and not disgrace yourself. It’s hard to know whether the bone-brainedness shows more of the ignorance of how people learn or a blindness to the nature of the Irish language that we all have a right to share in.
But then democracy or tolerance were never too prominent in the thinking of such people. So much more amusing to put a hand over the mouth and snigger at these linguistic bog-trotters who aren’t fluent. In more or less the same way that the golden Sir Anthony was shown sniggering at the funny way of talking they have down in Kerry, while his sycophantic little group just about ruptured themselves to show that they, too, found these odd culchies, well honestly, darling, such a scream!
a schoolboy’s response to Gregory Campbell
Those who mock ‘Long Kesh Irish’ are basically sneering at northern working class (or ‘peasant’) accents. Is fearr Gaeilge briste na Bearla cliste.’
Horrid Irish grammar is better clever English? Not in the real world.
It was almost, Esteemed Blogmeister, as if today’s blog was fired from the sixth floor of the Texas School Depository such was the unerring accuracy of your Oswaldian observations on the self-appointed Darby O Gills of the lingua franca of the leprechaun.
These are Les Knobs of Le Snobisme who are, naturally enough, concentrated in the most lucrative back-end of the Erse band wagon. Knob, being a hint. In order to locate these Gaelic knob-twiddlers all one has to do is follow the shrewd Gallic advice : cherchez la F.M.
Perkie is not unacquainted with these Nabobs of Nuacht for he too has long had them in his cross-hairs. In the immortal words of Val Doonican: the Lee Harvey was a leprechaun. Not least, the Darby O’Gills of Donnybrook Dublin 4 who migrate to the Liffeyside of the Pale Face from their reservations on the Wild Atlantic Way, their pewter-tinted gobs bloated with their own Fein-Mheas.
Fein-mheas being the leprechaun for Ferrero-Rocher na Fior-Ghaeltachta: the one and only blas. Blas being the leprechaun for the Only Flavour in Favour.
To say these Rajahs of RTE do not harbour reservations about the acceptability of the Butler blas of the BAC Pale Faces is to park it in the area reserved for the understated. This ensures they can keep building up their forearms to Popeye proportions by wheelbarrowing home the borrowed money of the naive licence payers. Small surprise they are known as the Donnybrook Deontas Gang. Deontas, of course, being the leprechaun for the carry-out Grant.
The same phenomenon is found – with one distinct exception – in Treibh, the leprechaun page of The Unionist Times. Treibh: Toole eile.
Seek for any hint of the second longest word in the Q’s English from these Nabobs of Nuacht: antiestablishmentarianism and thou shalt seek in vain. That’s why there is no Department of Leprechaun, only a Department of the Gaeltacht. And, will remain so for the forseeable millenium. What they have, they hold up, the handles of the wheelbarrow. Na buachailli bara rotha abu !
No probs, incidentally, differentiating the Ferrero-Rocher blas from the Butler blas: the former is the cool one speckled with buzz-words as Bearla/English and bockety grammar as Gaeilge/leprechaun. We’re talking boreen-smarts here, a chara. The revival of irony in the Free Southern Stateen is in a good place/ait mhaith.
To hop, step and lump it to ‘The Risibility and Fall of the Freckled Fellow’. You will excuse one, Esteemed Blogmeister, if one confines one’s comments on this piquant programme of profound poignancy to just two brief comments. In all truthiness, the trauma king known as Perkin is still in the middle of his post t. shock counselling and it will be some time before he can marshal his critical faculties in their entirely to do it the full James Robertson Justice. Some further beard-stroking on his part will be required.
1. Sir AJF O’Reilly belonged to an era of egg-chasing when doctors were in the majority on any given rugga team. Now, the pendulum has swung and it the patients who predominate. And of course, when no less that three initials were considered de rigeur before one could even be considered fit to wear white knicks with – (gulp) – pockets in them. It was the latter in truth which first attracted the one-first-named Perkie to the game. And so in his application form came up an extra three middle names: Spenser, Redfern and Algernon. Alas, the legal-eyed secretary of the local club, Hard Yard Hibernians RFC, spotted the fabrication immediately: for P.S.H.A. Warbeck came out as P.S.H.A.W. A dead give away, the adding of an extra initial, indicative on one who was intent on infiltration. The pleas of subconsiousness cut no ice. It was a lesson learned the h. way by a chastened Perkie: never go the extra yard, be if ever so soft.
2. In a week when the squawking Labour Party (sic) of the Free Southern Stateen were umbrage taking on le grand scale re the Sinn Fein 500 bucks a throw dinner in New Yawk, the transmission of this TV spin documentary was indeed timely. Not least the presence of Not as Famous as he had hoped to be Seamus, the erstwhile near-head of the SDLP, the counterpart party north of the Black Pig’s Delight. For it revealed for the v. first time that the Irish Fund of which The Freckled Fellow was the instigator was actually short for the Irish Fundament, such was the fervid insertion of tongue up same.
And so Perkie, after all these years, discovered that S.D.L.P. actually stands for – if it stands for anythng……Sugar Daddy Labour Party.
Shoulder to shoulder……
The real deal irony here is that –
It says a lot about the Unionist electorate if by mocking the Irish language that that results in more votes for Gregory and the DUP in general. After all Gregory has not one but two pay packets to worry about, so he’s pretty determined to keep his MLA/MP seats and will not hold back on insulting “them’uns” and damaging community relations if it gets him an extra vote or two.
What is most hypocritical and funny (to me anyway) is that this is the same DUP who demand respect and tolerance for “orange culture”. I’m sure Gregory’s remarks and his colleagues gleeful laughs will convince many within Nationalism/Republicanism to change their stance on Orange culture and be more accepting and tolerant to the sectarian banners and music that comes from Orange/Loyal parades…..
“Have the Irish people a streak of snobbery?”
Just look at our burgeoning grammar sector! Our imperial masters have at least abolished these in most English council areas!
The wee chap spoke well, Gregory has unwittingly given the national language a boost, people will say to themselves, if HE doesn`t like it then it must be good! I know some people laugh at Ulster Scots and poke fun at those who speak it but I say leave them alone, their efforts make my Irish look pretty good. On the topic of snobbery, it is unfortunately alive and well in Ireland.