
Reviews:
Irish Central - '...offers guidance on fiduring out who the pranksters are.' To read the full review click here.
Des MacHale
Mercier Press
Cork
Introduction
It is quite amazing that in a small island like Ireland we have so many different and distinctive kinds of wit and humour. The humour of Belfast is in a league of its own and in Galway and the West they regard themselves as the real custodians of Irish wit. The humour of Cork and Kerry is legendary while Waterford, Limerick and Wexford too have their own brand of hilarity. Even Sligo and Donegal can raise a chuckle if pressed.
But the wit and humour of our capital city, Dublin, reigns supreme, at least according to many Dubliners. Dublin wit has a cutting edge — the typical Dubliner not only believes he is superior, he knows he is superior. He has a healthy contempt for culchies, sheep stealers, yella bellies, cute Cork hoors, Orangemen, Kerrymen and other exotic rural varieties. Dublin humour can be cruel and unkind, sarcastic and hurtful, but it is clever, inventive and undoubtedly unique. The Dublin wit is not a happy bunny and lines are delivered without a smile, but the wit and humour of Dublin give a flavour to Irish humour that is famous worldwide. What other city in the world can boast a list of wits to compare with Wilde, Shaw, Swift, Behan, Sheridan (R.B. and J.D.), Joyce, Beckett, Allen, O’Casey, Leonard, Gogarty, O’Dea, Potter, Mahaffy and Butler?
This book is a tribute to the wit of Dublin and, dare I say it, the finest such collection of Dublin wit ever assembled. If you enjoy it, tell others. If not, in the words of Mo Po, save your breath for cooling your porridge!
Des MacHale, 2011
The Floozie in the Jacuzzi
In the boom times, the Irish firm of Smurfit donated the equivalent of a cool quarter of a million euro for an artistic statue of Anna Livia, a personification of the River Liffey, to be located in Dublin. It was a real work of art, but then anonymous Dublin wits got to work on her. First, she was covered in washing-up liquid and given a bubble bath. Then she was dubbed:
The Floozie in the Jacuzzi
Next she was called:
The Hoor in the Sewer
And then:
The Mot on the Pot
*
This started a trend. The statue of poor old Molly Malone quickly became known as:
The Tart with the Cart
And then:
The Dish with the Fish
And finally:
Bidet Mulligan
*
The statue of James Joyce with his cane was called:
The Prick with the Stick
*
Oscar Wilde was dubbed:
The Quare in the Square
Or:
The Fag on the Crag
*
The sculpture of two auld wans sitting on a bench with their shopping near the Halfpenny Bridge became:
The Hags with the Bags.
*
The ill-fated algae-covered clock counting down the minutes to the millennium in the Liffey at O’Connell Bridge was known as:
The Time in the Slime
The Scud in the Mud
Or
The Clock in the Dock
*
The Spire in O’Connell Street that replaced the Floozie took a terrible hammering with names such as:
Nelson’s Revenge
The North Pole
The Nail in the Pale
The Stiletto in the Ghetto
The Rod to God
The Jab in the Slab
The Pin in the Bin
The Erection at the Intersection
The Taper near the Scraper
The Lampland in Clampland
The Spike in the Dyke
And even:
The Stiffy by the Liffey
*
The statue of Patrick Kavanagh by the Grand Canal became The Crank on the Bank.
*
Dublin rhyming slang is part of the language of the capital:
A concert in the Phoenix Park is called The Lark in the Park.
*
The holy and sacred Bon Secours hospital is known as The Bunch of Hoors, or sometimes The Bone Sick Cure.
*
And even when it does not rhyme, the witty corruption of Dublin place names is a capital art form:
Glasnevin Cemetery has been called The Dead Centre of Dublin or even Croak Park.
*
Dublin’s most famous Catholic church, because of its proximity to another region, has been called The Pros’ Cathedral.




