Among the many causes for national pride in recent days, not the least – I thought – was hearing the word "eejit" on Tuesday night's Sky TV News. It seemed all the more noteworthy because the speaker (during the paper review slot) was a woman called Ayesha Hazarika, whose name seemed to herald the global triumph of Hiberno-English.
Even better, she used the term with impeccable correctness – her target being that man from Leeds who posed for a grinning selfie with the hijacker of his EgyptAir flight, before knowing that the suicide belt was fake.
Hazarika called him the e-word twice in quick succession, which hinted at another expression – that he was “the two ends of an eejit”. That also seemed correct. In fact, upon hearing that he was a “health and safety auditor”, I would have gone even further and declared him a “buck-eejit”.
In any case I have since learned that, although of Indian parentage, Hazarika was reared in Scotland. So it seems that in this case we have to credit our Celtic cousins for smuggling the word onto Sky's news programme. Well done the Scots. But it still felt like a cause for celebration.
Badges of dishonour
What we lack in a formal honours system in this country, we make up for in the flair with which we hand out badges of dishonour. This probably better suits the Irish psyche, which is distrustful of praise.
I think of our propensity for awarding insults as a sort of reverse hierarchical system. The entry level is the aforementioned “eejit”, which indicates some degree of foolishness, but is not without sympathy, if only in implying that little better could be expected. As the recipient achieves greater excellence in stupidity, however, intensifying adjectives are added: “fierce”, “thorough”, “two-ends-of”, “buck”, etc.
The natural progression from “eejit” is to be deemed a “fecker” of some sort, which implies a level of malicious intent. A similar range of intensifiers applies. From there, you may be promoted to a “gobshite”, a rank earned usually by many years of outstanding achievement in annoying people, but sometimes awarded on the basis of a single egregious misdemeanour.
And so it continues, through the c-word, to the b-one, which remains the quintessential insult. Again, the normal range of adjectives is used.
But it may be no coincidence that the ultimate term of abuse mirrors the language of chivalry. Thus our reverse-image of a knight of the realm is to declare someone a BHO, or “Bollocks of the Highest Order.”
Anniversary
What would Myles na gCopaleen have made of this week’s events, I wonder? And what, in particular, might he have thought of the coincidence whereby the 50th anniversary of his death, tomorrow, should coincide with the Easter-adjusted centenary of the GPO going up in flames?
He was of course a great patriot. In a 1940s column, he summed up his incorruptible fidelity to Ireland thus: "It cannot be too often repeated that I am not for sale. I was bought in 1921 and the transaction was final and conclusive."
On the other hand, he took a dark view of some who had inherited the mantle of freedom. And he had an extensive vocabulary of insult for them, ranging (under “T’ alone) from “thooleramawns” to “turnip-snaggers”. As for “the Plain People of Ireland”, he once called those a “suet-brained, ham-faced, mealy-mouthed, streptococcus-ridden gang of natural gobdaws”. But that was meant affectionately.
Some insults appear to have been unique to him. I can find "gawshkogue", for example, nowhere else but in "Cruiskeen Lawn". And although I still don't know what it means, exactly, I suspect that – speaking of awards – it may be related to Gaisce. That means "a deed of valour", in which spirit Irish schoolchildren vie for the prize from the President. But wouldn't you know? In Hiberno-English, it can also have a sarcastic quality, implying boastfulness. Hence "doing the Gaisce", which as Terry Dolan's dictionary says, means "showing off".
I trust there will be no thooleramawns in Dublin's Palace Bar tomorrow, although the possibility of the odd gawshkogue evading security cannot be ruled out. But I'm assured that John Clarke has a strict vetting procedure when selecting readers for his now-annual Mylesday event. Among those who have made the cut for the anniversary instalment are Val O'Donnell, Jack Lynch, Mattie Lennon, and (reading as gaeilge) Siún ni Dhuinn. The event starts at 3pm, with admission free and heckling optional.