A short piece on my problem with students' unions

Couldn't think of a relevant pic so I just used a stock image.
 He looks a bit pissed off. It'll do.

In the garishly ornate St. Peter's Basilica this week a conclave is being held to decide who should be the next leader of what is left of the Catholic Church. Cardinals will talk, talk, bicker, debate and talk some more before voting. And voting again. And possibly even again. Then a plume of white smoke will emerge from a small chimney signalling to the world that a week and a bit of uncertainty and angst is over and that a new pope has been elected.

Unbeknownst to those cardinals and the vast majority of the world, there is a another election taking place this week. It is slightly less elaborate and less ritualistic but just as annoying, as obtrusive and as wonderfully pointless. It is the University of Limerick Students' Union election.

This election is being held to elect a new SU president, welfare officer and entertainment officer. Or something like that. There are parallels to be drawn between this election and ordinary political elections - similar amounts of hyperbole, cringe-worthy attempts by candidates and campaigners to 'get down' with the electorate and an a potent sense of vanity and self-indulgence pervading through the air. "Hyperbole" is just a fancy word for "bullshit", by the way.

Similarly there are also parallels between the SU itself and actual political institutions - even more hyperbole, vexatious bureaucracy and feelings of resentment and apathy towards it amongst its electorate. 

Some of you reading this may attend UL and may be thinking "Last week was RAG week and it was DAY-CENT and the SU organised that. Why the overt contempt, man?" Let me explain. I do not think the ULSU is particularly rank in comparison with other students' unions nor do I have any personal gripes with anyone in ULSU (Most are actually rather affable). I just dislike all Students' Unions. 

You see, I view students' unions the same way I view political institutions, namely with  suspicion. In my eyes, students' unions are, or at least seem to be, empty vessels used by self-serving, overly desirous persons to further their own personal advancement and get a good reference on their CV while feigning an interest in students and their issues.

 Now I don't see anything particularly wrong with that - in this ecnomic climate everyone needs a good CV and I'm not particularly fond of my fellow students either - it's just the way they go about it. 

You see them on Twitter. You see them around campus. You see their Facebook groups urging you to vote for them around election time. They're the type of irritating busy-bodies who treat their Twitter account as if they were a journalist at The Irish Times, discussing current affairs with the sort of discernment unbecoming of them. Discussing people and news they've never heard of as if they're experts in the field. Their profile pictures are always excessively formal and on Facebook they encourage their friends to "get involved" in the Student Union. Their sense of humour is restricted to the occasional meme. They see themselves as future leaders and thinkers. Some of them, indeed, it seems are being groomed for a future in politics.

And then they wonder why they're so unpopular. Not them personally, but the Student Union itself. Why do so very few students take an interest in it? Why do they consistently fail to reach quorum in their AGMs and EGMs? Why the low turnout for voting despite the fact that it is remarkably easy to vote? (You just need to log in to ANY computer in the University - and there's quite a few of them). Now, of course, I can only discuss the ULSU here but I'm sure this scenario replicates itself in many other students' unions around Ireland. 

Is their unpopularity down to the natural and irrevocable apathy towards anything that doesn't involve consuming copious amounts of alcohol among most students? It most certainly has a big part to play but there are other factors too. Students' unions claim to represent students but they're so out of touch it's laughable. The campaigning that takes place during election week is exceedingly annoying and it seems the promises they make are exact same each year. This, of course, is very similar to politicians' campaigns but with the difference being that we can (or should be able to at least) hold politicians to account when they're acting like divs - not exactly the same with students' unions officials. 

The only time students' unions really raise their voice is around November time - just before the Budget. With fee increases and grant levies expected in the Budget they organise a few buses to the Capital and take part in a collective "letting off of steam" exercise or "protest", if you will. Protests are valiant causes but, come on, is one poxy protest going to make a difference? Or would a sustained campaign be more practical in actually combating fee increases? Of course it would but the students' unions don't seem to care - they just want to make it appear that they do. And therein lies the problem. If I were to bestow a collective motto upon students' unions it would be that - "We don't really care but we'll pretend to."  

I can be challenged on this subject and I would welcome a rebuke. It's just as an observer of my own students' union for a year and a half now I have already formed a well-set opinion on them and their dealings. Indeed, this opinion took root very early on in my academic life and nothing since has convinced me to change. Students' unions, like the Catholic Church in this week of concurrent elections, could do with a reevaluation of what their role exactly is. 

Gerry Adams' Twitter account - Stroke of genius or publicity stunt?

Following celebrities on Twitter can be an arduous task. Indeed, it is often what line of work a celebrity is involved in that determines how interesting/uninteresting their tweets will be. Footballers tend to be boring and anodyne (Unless of course they happen to be Joey Barton). Musicians can be intriguing and engaging (Johnny Marr) or absolutely off-the wall insane (Tyler, The Creator) though many others can be depressingly cliched and woefully vapid (Ed Sheeran/Any teen sensation). Actors, rather surprisingly, are usually your best bet for stimulating and/or humorous tweets (Anna Kendrick being my personal favourite). 

Politicians then (And yes, they are celebrities) are rather pointless to follow on Twitter. All you get on your timeline is hyperbolic propaganda and contrived attempts at patriotism. Twitter to most politicians is, I assume, a necessary evil; something to connect with younger voters but given the choice, they'd rather leave it to their secretaries or aides. And many do, of course. 

This was until Gerry Adams came along. His Twitter account is less than two months old but has already amassed over 16,000 followers. Now that's not a fantastically huge amount - but for a 65 year old Irish politician who has only tweeted 181 times (That sounds like a lot, I know - it isn't really), it's pretty damn impressive. It ain't hard to see why so many people have chosen to follow him - his tweets are works of scattered, chaotic and often times incongruous art. 

The question remains though; is Gerry Adams really this eccentrically brilliant? Does he really sleep with a teddy named Ted? Does he really bathe with a rubber duck? Or is this a publicity stunt by Sinn Féin? A chance to capitalise on the growing support of him personally and the party on the whole and to perhaps even expand it? I'm going to have to stop asking questions that I can't possibly answer conclusively and just present the evidence. You, the reader of my modest blog, can be the judge. 

I'll just lay out a few of the (many) highlights so far:

                            Trouble in paradise with Ted (Who is a teddy bear)     

"Tiocfaidh Ár Latte"

Wacky happenings in Leinster House

Martin McGuinness joins Twitter

Discussing the marital status of teddy bears Ted and Tom

Charming anecdote

His rather lovely dog, Snowie

It's difficult to decipher, ain't it? In some people's minds, Adams will always be intrinsically linked to the IRA and the Troubles and they may see this as a cheap attempt to create a new identity - a sort of bumbling, bubbly sexagenarian who seems like he just happens to be a politician, that it doesn't define who he is. Such protests are not inane. Accruing support in such a hostile and divided political environment is difficult and of course remarkably important - political parties will (And have) stoop to anything to attract voters. 

Those assumptions will remain just that however - merely assumptions. 

Adams has always struck me as a peculiar sort of character though. Not quite as aberrant as he comes across on Twitter but still peculiar. He is the very first politician I remember being aware of as a child - probably because my early childhood was the mid to late 90's, i.e. peace process time. His eminent beard reminds me so much of the 90s it's almost zeitgeist-y. His Twitter account however, really did surprise me. In a good way. For the first week it existed I was convinced it was a parody account. Convinced. Then the Sinn Fein press office confirmed its validity. Oh. So he actually did tweet "Tiocfaidh Ár Latte" about a good cup of coffee. He actually does sleep (or claim to, at least) with a teddy bear. He actually does have a near-comical love/hate relationship with his advisor RG (Real name - Richard McCauley). 

Of course, other prominent members of Sinn Féin use Twitter - Martin McGuinness has just joined and Mary Lou McDonald is a prominent user - and both are more dynamic with their accounts than their jejune FF/FG/Lab counterparts. Though neither are a patch on Gerry. 

What amuses me most about any member of Sinn Féin's Twitter accounts is their use of the Irish language. It's so flagrant yet somehow subtle. It's as if they have a requisite number of words which must be as gaeilge in each tweet. They would never compose a full tweet  as gaeilge though, that would be far too confusing for the followers - most of whom are Irish and as such do not speak Irish. 

I haven't answered the question that I posed in the title of this article. Because I simply can't answer it conclusively. Adams' tweets seem so batshit insane at times that I think he simply must be putting on this overt eccentricity or at least exaggerating it. But it somehow seems genuine. His continuous bewilderment with modern technology, his strange obsession with GAA (You have to be obsessed to watch Antrim hurling), Christ, even the teddy bear thing. It makes sense in the strangest of ways. 

But then, it doesn't really matter. If he continues to churn out the comedy gold he's produced already, I won't question his motives. I don't think he'll ever top "Tiocfaidh Ár Latte", though. 

The rise of the LAD.

Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, 
It's with O'Leary in the grave
- W.B Yeats

He was a sagacious ol' soul was good ol' Billy Butler Yeats. He wrote that very line 100 years ago this year. He was cultured, he was curious and he was astute. He was everything that a LAD is not. He is the antithesis of everything LADs stand for. 

In fact, were Yeats to stroll down Grafton Street in February 2013 and were he to encounter a group of LADs, they'd more than likely deride his iconic spectacles than actually recognise him.

Ah, LADs. You may be wondering to whom I am referring to when I write LADs (You may also be wondering why I insist on typing LAD in all caps - well, you can't fully convey their overt pseudo-masuclinity with just "lad".). Am I writing about every heterosexual male? Nope. Every male under the age of 25? Nah. Every male who enjoys sports? Crumbs, no.

I am referring to the new type of adolescent male that exists today. I am talking about the default setting for so many males between 16 and 25 today. It is a new-ish strain of masculinity. It is brash, it is abrasive and Jesus Christ it is actually contagious. If you are a college student or someone who encounters students on a regular basis you should know what I mean when I type LAD.

Indeed, it ain't very difficult to spot a LAD. They're rarely quiet and they're rarely inconspicuous. They stay in herds too. LADs on their own are surprisingly manageable and even affable - it's when they're in their herd they feel the need to act lie absolute fucking imbeciles.

In case you have trouble recognising them (you shouldn't) here's a handy list of LAD characteristics (Or LADeristics, if you must) that you can cut out and keep so you know when you're in the vicinity of a LAD.

• They're the type of people who piss on your doorstep and knock over your bins for comic effect. 
• They're the type of people who start those incongruous chants inside and outside nightclubs. 
• They're the type of people who go to Santa Ponsa or Magaluf on holidays. I would rather consume my own feces before subjecting to myself to the horror of Magaluf/Santa Ponsa.
• They're the type of people who talk about having "BANTER" and have now shorten the term to "BANTS" as BANTER is just something that is so fundamental to their very existence. 
• They're the type of people who wear Hollister. It is a fucking LAD uniform. 
• They're type of people who, when asked what type of music they enjoy, reply "Anything, really" - "Anything, really" meaning a narrow selection of chart hits (Note - "Anything really" will be written as "Netin, reli" on LADs' Facebook pages).
• They're the type of people who LOVE Mumford & Sons and think that Ed Sheeran is lyrically deep.
• They're the type of people who become bona fide golfing experts whenever a Ryder Cup/US Masters is on but wouldn't know a sand wedge from sandwich every other day of the year.
• They're the type of people who think scarves are "gay" but wearing body warmers when playing football is perfectly within the realms of their pseudo-masculinity. 
• They're the type of people who think wearing a shirt is "fancy".
• They're the type of people who think climbing a couple of lampposts and taking their tops off is "MAYHEM" (I'm looking at you NUI Galway, you absolute plebs. I mean Jesus, I saw the title of that video and thought someone was going to be killed).
• They're the type of people who will tell you that chick-flicks and rom-coms are "gay as fuck" and in the same conversation will unironically profess their love for Home and Away. 
• They're the type of people who just LOVE the Fast & Furious film series. 
• They're the type of people who actually enjoy nightclubs.
• They're the type of people who had blonde highlights in their hair when they were 12, the "V" haircut when they were 14 and a mullet when they were 16. LADs are just evolved chavs after all.
• They're the type of people who take time off work/college/school during Cheltenham so they can go fritter their money away on racing beef burgers and lament their monetary losses in a very manly tone the following day.
• They're the type of people who discovered memes 8 months ago and now find the derogatory replies "Cool story, bro" and "Still a better love story than Twilight" absolutely fucking hilarious. 
• They're the type of people who pretend to know about farming.
• They're the type of people who have made facebook "creeping" an art.
• They're the type of people who love/pretend to love cars.
• They're the type of people who live for RAG week.
• They're the type of people who have just discovered Breaking Bad in the last 8 months and insist on informing you of how "unreal" it is.
• They're the type of people who can express contempt for the British Empire and the Irish language in the same breath, without a hint of irony. 

The LAD culture isn't exactly castigated or censured. Its largely embraced. Such is the sheer volume of LADs that it is difficult to start a movement against them. They have even infiltrated the corridors of power in Ireland (Leo Varadker - huge LAD). Their rise must be admired, in some ways. 

They have a mouthpiece too - a mouthpiece on social media, anyway. UniLad and The Lad Bible (You may be familiar with both) are websites but more popularly Facebook pages which celebrate LAD culture in its most visceral form. They are to LADs what the Little Red Book is to Maoists. Both supply a heady cocktail of bad jokes, overused memes and latent misogyny. 

It's difficult to define what the LAD movement really is though. Is it some post-modern counter-reaction to feminism? Is it the last roar of conventional masculinity? Or has it always existed and will always exist just now, since the advent of the internet, it is much more visible and much, much more annoying? I don't know. I'm tempted to go with the third option as I ain't one for blind nostalgia and would like to think this whole LAD thing isn't a generational problem. It also should be noted that the LAD movement is in no way exclusive to Ireland. UniLad and The Lad Bible are both British creations and their problems with LADs are just as grave as ours. 

By the age of about 25, LADs seem to settle down. Their idiocy is only passing but it leaves its mark. They become well-liked members of society after this and their contribution is valued. A handful fall through the net - which is a real shame as there is nothing worse than a LAD in his 30s - but it's a small enough portion to manage. 

So, LADs. Can't live with them. Can't live withou- Oh, no. I just can't live with them.

*For the purpose of this blog I have consciously adopted a very condescending tone. Please, it is not sincere. It is a "joke" if you must. I am typing this disclaimer so I do not receive incandescently angry hate-mail calling me a snob.

Why do Irish people have such a hard-on for Barack Obama?

One from Mayo. One from Chicago. Neither a hurling stronghold.

11 days to go until America decides who they want as their president/commander-in-chief/puppet for the corporations for the next four years and Barack Obama must be brickin' it.

He's up against a man (Mitt Romney is his name for the plebs among us) who is 50% grease and 50% pure evil and yet still Barry is lagging behind in most polls. Well, lagging behind suggest it's a big gap, it ain't. Yesterday's Gallup Poll shows Romney with 50% of the popular vote and Barry with 47%. 

Hardly a gargantuan lead and some other polls suggest Obama has his nose in front but it's still enough for Barry to be cuddling up to Michelle at night seeking some loving reassurance that it will be him sending thousands of  Afghans and Al-Qaeda insurgents to their deaths for the next four years and not that indignant mormon fool.

But were this presidential race taking place on the fair isle on which I am typing this piece, Ireland of course, Barry would cruise to victory. No, cruise is the wrong verb, he'd waltz, no that's not it, he'd PUMMEL his way to victory. Yeah, that's it. And this is not mere hyperbole from I, this is scientific fact. A poll commissioned by the Irish Times last week showed a whopping 79% of us Irish would re-elect Barry, while a paltry 5% would vote for Shit Mitt and 16% couldn't be arsed having an opinion (God bless that 16%).

So. Why the hell do we like this man so much?

Well for a while everyone, of every creed, race and nationality loved Barack Obama. He was 2008's Katie Taylor. Adored. Deified. He could not put a foot wrong, remember, this is a man who won a Nobel Peace Prize for doing nothing. Nada. I put as much work into winning that Nobel Peace Prize for Barry as he did. I'll admit, I loved the man but hey, I was 15. I have an excuse. You older people are gullible fools

But while most countries have moved on from this extreme adoration (They burn effigies of him in the Middle East), us Irish still retain it. We still cling to, as Sarah Palin so succinctly put it, the "hopey, changey stuff" he came out with way back when. 

While Mitt Romney is perceived as a filthy rich, malignant, poor-hatin' scumbag (And that he is) by us Irish, I have genuinely seen comments from Irish people on the internet state that Obama is an "All-round nice guy", a "a sound lad" and about 30,000 comments by disgruntled Irish folk saying "He'd do a much better job than the useless bastards/idiots/cunts/other-pejorative-noun we have in the Dáil" or something to that tune (They could be right, but my labrador would do a better job than the useless idiots in Dáil Éireann).

The reason we harbour this undying love for him is complicated and probably multivalent. A lot of it has to do with his Irish "roots" (I'm using inverted commas because, come on, he's as Irish as a Komodo Dragon) and his visit to Ireland last year, which though lasted less than 12 hours, left an indelible mark. Many Irish were swayed by his poise and charm, many more found the story about his great-great-great-grandfather fascinating, and many more were looking for a catchy soundbite to improve their recession-bashed spirts and they got just that with "Is Féidir Linn". 20 months on and there's still tits driving around with those blasted bumper stickers.

Another reason may be a lot more deep-rooted. Democrats are naturally popular in Ireland. The two most loved US President by the Irish, besides Barry, are without question JFK and Bill Clinton. Two democrats. Both with Irish roots. Clinton is loved, in no small part, due to the role he played in the peace process up North, while JFK is adored because A) He visited us B) He upheld the most Irish of traditions - namely, cheating on your wife and consuming large quantities of alcohol. He was, if you pardon the horrible slang, the only Lad president. 

But the democrat, thing, I'm going to run with that for a while. You see every Republican President in the last 50 years has had some form of Irish roots. The Bushes did, Reagan did and Nixon did. Nixon and Reagan even visited Ireland. Reagan is an Irish surname for Christ's sake. But how many Irish do you hear singing songs of praise about good ol' Ronnie or loveable Ricky? There was a song written about Barack Obama being Irish ("There's no one as Irish as Barack O'Bama"). Countless documentaries have been made about JFK and his Irish visit. Nixon and Reagan don't even warrant an image on the Irish-American wikipedia page.

The Democrats being so popular in Ireland is, like most things, complicated. It probably has something to do with the Democrats being the party for the immigrants and the fact that they produce more interesting and less evil presidents.

It's a a recondite matter. Obama's popularity in the Emerald Isle does not look like waning and why should it? He's got history and propaganda on his side. If Obama does get re-elected, and I think he will, then he'll want to be making a second state trip to this small island so he can sample our Guinness, play with our hurls, sweet-talk our people again and thank us for liking him while half of his native country thinks he's a communist muslim. If he does that we might even carve a Mt.Barackmore on the Cliffs Of Moher for him.

A bearded student is a foolish student.

"Four score and seven years ago... I couldn't grow a beard as lethal as this but look at me now"

Puberty is a troubling time for young men. Our sexual organs become, well, sexual, our once clean, pristine armpits become infested with husky hair, our voice deepens and we begin the long, shallow yet undeniably enjoyable road of objectification of women. 

Nah, I'm messing with you, it's rather brilliant. Much more so than female puberty; that seems a more messy and bloody affair. 

We also begin to grow hairs on our face. We are instructed to remove these hairs at once. Shaving becomes a fortnightly custom by time you hit around 14 (Weekly if you're a bit too eager/insane). But as we begin to creep towards the winter of our teen years we decide, in a bid to highlight our overt sense of masculinity, to forgo the shaving of the hairs and to let the hairs grow in their own natural formation. We try to grow a beard.

Every young, eager fellow has tried it. The manliest of the manly men on television and in films have/had beards. Clint Eastwood. Brad Pitt. George Clooney. And they wear it like a glove. It suits them like the batsuit suits Bruce Wayne. Trouble is, (most) adolescent males don't have the bone structure, jawline, beard growing ability or beard grooming techniques that these men possess. In short, the beards young, idyllic males attempt to grow end up resembling the follicles one might find in an anus, i.e. bum fluff.

Ah bum fluff. The perfect disparaging remark to instantly denigrate a shit beard. It's perfect because it's so very true. It's very, very rare that a young man's beard does not resemble bum fluff. Our hairs have not yet had time to discover their proper formation, our skin far too supple and unblemished, our standards of personal grooming far too lax. An ideal environment for the aforementioned bum fluff to foster. 

And yet young men persist. Venture through any college campus in the country, nay, the world, and you'll find a plethora of starry-eyed, facial hair aficionados and a gaggle of awe-inspired disciples worshipping their shitty face-bristles. It's a status symbol. He who can grow the best beard is the manliest; it's on par with being able to consume large quantities of alcohol or being good at poker. But how students judge the standard of beard is warped; they simply laud he who can grow the messiest, thickest, frizziest beard. 

A female opinion should be sought on this matter. Since I am alone and horrifically single I do not have one at this moment in time but I'd bet my bottom dollar that most of the fairer sex would prefer a clean-shaven beau. Until we reach 25. When we can actually grow proper beards. Then you should grow that shit like it's cannabis in a greenhouse because there is nothing sexier than a man in his late 20s to early 30s with a smashing beard. 

Now I am no Gilette salesman here to discuss their new patented 900-blade system with its lasers and bullets and what have you, it's just shaving is a necessary evil to curb the greater evil that is shit, bum fluff beards. Until they reach 25 I hope the rest of my male compatriots shall subsist from growing a beard of any kind. Stubble is perfectly fine and my rule on beards only applies for 11 months of the year; Movember is high time for beard growing as it's for a good cause of course. 

And any man, no matter what age, foolish, nay I say, evil enough to attempt to grow a moustache should be banished from the realm. A man in a moustache is a man not to be trusted - Hitler, Stalin and Marty Whelan perfectly illustrate this point.

My view for a new Ireland: We cut off half of it.

We have heard a lot of talk since the recession began regarding what is the best course of action to take to wrestle Ireland out of the financial and indeed moral quagmire in which it finds itself. Cuts, tax hikes, pension levies have all been tried and tested. All have failed. Many international and domestic economists, financial experts and political analysts have been quizzed on what is the most viable route forward. 

But it seems no one has cared to ask what a 19 year old student who dabbles in nihilism, is a keen observer of human behaviour and dresses wonderfully what he thinks. Until now. When I ask myself - What is my vision for a new, better Ireland?

Simple. We get rid of the shit counties. 

Counties evicted and why


Roscommon
Any county that roughly resembles a phallus should not be part of this great isle. Roscommon is phallic in appearance and phallic in nature. A truly disgusting county. It smells like Shredded Wheat that has been urinated upon, so I'm told (I've never ventured beyond its murky borders but I have it on good authority).


Offaly
What is Offaly known for? Bogs, being the birthplace of our bumbling former Taoiseach, maybe not the man who caused the recession but certainly a man who drank his way through the vast majority of it (at our expense), Brian Cowan and robbing Kerry of an historic 5-in-a-row All-Irelands in 1982 with a last minute winner courtesy of Seamus Darby who blatantly and quite viciously pushed Kerry full-back Tommy Doyle in the back before launching his ball goalwards. A dreadful county, its inhabitants shall be banished to the underworld and any wealth accrued from the destruction of the county shall be awarded as compensation to the people of Kerry.

Carlow
An utterly pointless county. There is no question that this geographical wart must be expelled from the realm.

Mayo
Mayo is not a bad county. Nor is it a pointless county. The reason it is being demolished however is it is the county which spawned the devilchild we know call der fuhrer, Enda Kenny. And for that it must be punished. Any Mayoman or woman who did not vote for Fine Gael shall be granted entrance to Galway on the condition that they extinguish that frankly ridiculous accent from their tongues. The Hardy Bucks shall be granted a palace in the hills of Meath. 

Longford
See Carlow.

Sligo
Not sure why I have decided to delete Sligo from existence. Think I'm going a bit power hungry. Their claims that Sligo is a city are baffling and unfounded. This is reason enough. 

Leitrim
Expulsion from Ireland and destruction of their county shall be a sweet escape for the people of Leitrim. For years it has been the butt of everyone's jokes, most notably Dustin the turkey, and the only reason that it is given even a shred of acknowledgement is that it is Ireland's least populated county. And you don't become Ireland's least populated county without reason. A putrid shithole.

Westmeath
A county that has spawned One Direction's be-quiffed and profusely annoying Niall Horan and possibly the most obnoxious arsehole on Irish TV at the moment, Bressie, does not deserve existence. We have one Meath already. The western half of Meath can act as Westmeath if we begin to miss the county. Though that is highly unlikely.

All of Ulster 
Who needs an accent that sounds like a Scottish person being entered anally by both of the Klitschko brothers at the same time? No one. The North have been nothing but trouble ever since the English uprooted the natives and replaced them with troublemaking protestants. We'd have no more Orange parades, no more rebel songs (no one down South sings them any more), no more violence and no more shit accents. And no more Donegal with their strange football and even stranger eyebrows (Just look at Jim McGuinness'). 

How we would undertake the geographical divorce
A massive cutting machine, in the shape of a crane, shall be constructed by Liebherr Cranes in Killarney, Co.Kerry which will go about removing the deleted part of the country. As soon as it is out at sea it will be compressed downwards. We shall do this by employing Mary Harney. She is currently out of work and she has to earn that big, fat pension. She will jump up and down on the floating isle a few times which should generate enough pressure for it to plunge to the bottom of Davy Jones' Locker. 

This lost land shall be marketed as The Green Atlantis and my forecasts show that the revenue garnered from tourists interested in visiting it will not exceed the billions of euro, but exceed trillions. This will end the recession.

You're welcome. 

10 songs that remind me of the Celtic Tiger.

Ah, the Celtic Tiger. Remember her? The Beatles once sang "She Came Through The Bathroom Window". So did the Celtic Tiger. It bundled its way unexpectedly through our collective (metaphorical) bathroom window, performed wild fellatio on us, Ireland, finished before we could wipe down our trousers, plundered our money cabinet and made her way back out the same window it had arrived in. And now here we are, dazed and confused, slumped up against a bath with our trousers down at our ankles, unable to move, hoping that she'll return. Or something like that. Anyway, nostalgia ahoy mateys for these are 10 songs that remind me of the Celtic Tiger.

In no particular order..

1. Crazy World - Aslan

This song was actually released in 1993 but it took on a whole new meaning during the Celtic Tiger era. It was symbolic of our new attitude, our broadening horizons, our blissful inexperience with affluence (It was a Crazy new world for us) and of course, our love of an acoustic guitar being strummed really fucking quickly. Listening to this song reminds me of sunny days out in Dingle with a deep-fried Mars bar in one hand and a copy of the Indo in the other. Reading about the soaring price of property in Dublin, probably.

2. Galway Girl - Mundy

This should probably be our national anthem. Not because I'm particularly enamoured by it (It's a great song but I've heard it too many times) but because it's the only song that EVERYONE in Ireland knows every last syllable to. If I asked you what came after Sinne Fianna Fáil in Ammhráin Na bhFiann, I bet half of you would struggle, but if I said what comes after And I ask you friend, what's a feller to do? ye'd be as quick as Richard Boyd-Barrett telling Enda Kenny he's a gobshite on a cold, brisk morning in the Dáil with a response.

3. Jumbo Breakfast Roll - Pat Shortt

A strange thing happened during the Celtic Tiger. Some people in Ireland, thanks to the increasing American influence on Irish popular culture and the transformation of the country from rural, priest-infested backwater to gaudy, pompous cosmopolitan hub, began to doubt whether we really were Irish any more. This diffidence manifested itself in different ways; people in South Dublin began bestowing Gaelic names like Fionán, Setanta and Cú Chulainn upon their children, the GAA saw a massive increase in popularity and revenue, alcohol consumption reached an all time high. We basically loved anything that was a bit traditional Irish, a bit bucolic, a bit Gaelic. That's where Pat Shortt came in. His comedy harked back to a time of Macaroon bars and Gay Byrne. And that's why Jumbo Breakfast Roll was so popular. That and the fact that we're all fat bastards.

4. Here Come The Good Times - Christy Dignam, Dave Couse, Nicky from Westlife, Dustin and a few more.

Yes children, there was once a time when Ireland went to international tournaments and didn't get the absolute hoop beaten off us. This was an absolute gem of a track leading up the 2002 World Cup. Musically, it's fine, but as a World Cup song it excels as it melded wonderfully simplistic lyrics with a cheery, beery chorus that even the most inebriated of Irish fans could sing along to with ease. Indeed, one of the highlights of the Celtic Tiger, for me anyway, was Robbie Keane's glorious, last minute equaliser against Ze Germans. And that celebration, of course. The song also ironically features the lyrics With Keane to lead us, we have nothing to fear.... Except a crap pitch in Saipan and a man from Barnsley.

5. One Horse Town - The Thrills

I don't know how many times I heard this song being played on 2fm on the way to school. Too many, yet still, not enough. This was a great song that was not killed by overplay, such was its excellence. Released in 2003, this song became the soundtrack to that particular summer. Not because it had some deep, figurative meaning behind it or anything like that, just because it's a bloody good song. It's a song to wake you up in the morning such is the urgency and vigour of its intro. It reminds me of shows on RTE 1 about redeveloping your home. I don't know why, it just does.


6. We've Got The World Tonight - Mickey Harte






There once was a time when we took the Eurovision seriously. We had a big talent show to decide who would go and the song that was sung would be written by someone important and renowned like Phil Coulter or Bryan McFadden. Contrary to popular belief, the Eurovision was still shite even when we did take it seriously. Our most prominent effort came from a Donegal man who won the first series of You're a Star. I remember thinking We've Got The World Tonight was the best song in the world when it was released. The majority of the Irish public agreed with me as it shot to No.1 in the charts and was the best selling song of 2003. In hindsight, I was a foolish young chap. My abiding memory of Mickey Joe Harte is being urged not to  vote for him in the You're A Star final  in the school playground with the charming adage "We love Simon, Mickey go fart." Simon was the other contestant in case you've forgotten.


7. The Langer Song - Tim O'Riordan Natural Gas





The second joke song on the list*, after the Jumbo Breakfast Roll of course, is unsurprising really. The mid-noughties were a ripe time for songs of a facetious nature; the popularity of Gift Grub reached its peak, Jumbo Breakfast Roll was released, in England you had the JCB Song and the Cheeky Girls and in 2004, the Langer Song was released. It's my personal favourite. By far the wittiest, by far the funniest and it even imported a new phrase into the Irish lexicon. The song's standing in Cork is akin to the standing of The Banks of My Own Lovely Lee and it led to a resurgence in a Cork brand of patriotism. Cork people can be patriotic as, of course, Cork is a different nation to Ireland. Reminds me of the Summer of 2004. A good summer. Kerry won the All-Ireland. Sound for spurring us on, ye langers.


*Well music is an abstract concept and as such entirely subjective so to someone else The Langer Song is a piece of music comparable to the majesty of Vivaldi's Four Seasons while something like We've Got The World Tonight is a joke song. It's up to you.


8. Falling Slowly - Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova






The newest song on this list, released in 2007, it just about made it in as, as you are of course are aware, things went tits up economically speaking relatively shortly after this song was released. But anyhoo, it makes it onto the list as it was probably the most celebrated of all the folk-y, acoustic-y tunes that were released during the Celtic Tiger years. And there were a lot. Between Damien Rice, Damien Dempsey, The Frames, Mick Flannery and scores more, we were spoiled for choice when it came to folk-y, acoustic-y music. And this song won an oscar as well. And it's really, really good. Reminds me of Grafton Street on an overcast, July afternoon in 2007.


9. Rocky Took A Lover - Bell X1 






If I were to make a montage of clips that I felt best summed up the Celtic Tiger era, I'd probably use Rocky Took A Lover as the soundtrack. It's so evocative. Like One Horse Town, it's a morning song. An early riser. It's got that great electric intro and the imposing drumbeat accompanying it. It reminds me of Jones' Road near Croke Park on matchday on a warm summer's day in 2006.


10. True Friends - Jerry Fish & the Mudbug Club


If there was any song that best typified the attitude and the atmosphere of Celtic Tiger Ireland, this was it. So carefree, so relaxing, so fun; a lot like the Celtic Tiger. This song rose to prominence in 2002 thanks to some phone ad but it's so much more than that. It's the song of the Celtic Tiger. We were so foolish, so naive, so unaware of the shitstorm that was awaiting us after the party finished. It reminds me of a sunny day in Killarney.