Cunt

It occured to me last night, in one of my fist-shaking bouts of self-reflection, that I'm going to have a very tough time of it if I continue writing.

There are things that need saying about modern Ireland, see. Maybe even things that need saying by someone who's not acquainted with the Celtic Tiger. And yup, that sounds like something I could do, seeing as I might know of Mr. Tiger - I might have met him at a party and shook his hand, but he never took my number and didn't seem even slightly interested in me; I certainly don't live with him. So yeah, maybe there's things needing an ould shout from the Irish rooftops. But not by a woman. No. Not by a girl.

And if a girl IS saying certain negative things about Irish character or Irish life, she definitely shouldn't be saying these in a humorous way. No, she shouldn't be taking the piss. And she definitely shouldn't be using naughty words while she's at it. She shouldn't be calling Bertie Ahern a cunt.

You might think I'm being a bit hand-wringingly feminist about all this, that I'm taking on the moany mantle of shadenfreude so beloved by bra-burners; maybe I am. I'm not much of a feminist, though. I have no academic arguments to make to back up my sex, and most of the time I'm a terrible misogynist (and misanthropist). I'll just kick yer arse if you have a go at me.

I can't kick your arse if you're behind a computer screen, making disparaging comments about cranky women having a rant at the establishment coz they're on th'ould rag or something, hohoho. Let ye off. I know ye're saying it, but I have better things to be doing than listening to you.

But the bad language! you cry. It's all very well to have the bad language coming from the blogging, manly fingers of Twenty Major, but girls should have more sense! Sense and sensibility!

But see, that's the thing. Cunt is such a very useful word.

Now, I know I go on about people being cunts. A lot. It's a useful word because it sums up a multitude, and you're not making any sort of impact on Ireland if you've not been deemed a cunt more than once in your life. I call my friends cunts regularly, just to validate them, the poor cunts. Anyway, because I use the word so often, I've come up with a handy scoring system, so as you'll know vaguely what I mean when I call someone a cunt from now on. Is Michael McDowell the greatest cunt in the cuntry? If so, where does that leave Joe Duffy? All will be revealed.


There. I've revealed it. While all of these people are cunts, some are bigger cunts than others. Amanda Brunker and Louis Walsh are awful cunts, for example, but when you say "awful" in Ireland, you do it with a wink or a slight shake of the head, and then you get back to your pint. Being a desperate cunt, like the IRA (pack of) or Cecilia Ahern (solo cunt, not as bad as her father) involves making people blow through pursed lips and shake their heads vigorously. "That wan, she's a desperate cunt..." (moment of silence). See?

It could be worse. You could be the Opposition! The Opposition are a shower of Utter Cunts, as bad as Joe Duffy, which means they are decried with terse conviction. And up in the danger zone, you have Bertie and Mickey-Do, who are unspeakable cunts. Not only is it that no Irishman has the vocab power to describe the power of their cuntishness, but if you stand in front of a mirror and turn around five times anticlockwise while calling their names, you could conjure them up. And we wouldn't want that. Because they're unspeakable cunts.

I hope this has been a handy guide for you all. And just because it's not right that a young wan like meself is going on about who the greatest cunts in Ireland are, and not writing something floaty light involving shoes and the boy-next-door-who-was-the-right-man-all-along, here's a guide as to whereabouts in the league I am.