The Irish have a saying: "Get the feck out of me pub, ya cheap dago bastard! Yer barred!" Oops, actually that was just one Irishman who owns a bar I used to frequent until he took exception to my tipping policy. Long story. But while we're on the subject of Irish people, let's take a look at the tale of Chris Gregory, who temporarily thought he was one.
Gregory, a native of Sheffield, England, was hospitalized and underwent emergency brain surgery, from which he emerged with an Irish brogue, even though he had no connection to the Auld Sod. Fiancée Mary recounts the event:
I couldn't believe it when I walked on to the ward and heard someone singing Danny Boy really loud. It sounded like a drunken Irishman and all the racket seemed to be coming from the direction of Chris's bed.I thought to myself: 'It can't possibly be him...' but when I pulled back the curtains Chris was sitting up in bed belting out the tune with all the right words and a thick Irish accent like he'd grown up in Dublin and lived there all his life....
At one point he looked at me adoringly and said: 'You're da fabbest gal oi know!' with a perfect Irish lilt in his voice. It sounded crazy, but I didn't care. It was just great to have him back in one piece after such a traumatic time.
Undoubtedly. Doctors suggest that Gregory was suffering from "Foreign Accent Syndrome," a rare neurological misfire. But if you read the story closely, it seems more like the patient was undergoing "Comical Stereotype Disorder." I mean, really, "Danny Boy"? "Da fabbest gal oi know"? It's shocking that he didn't tell her to keep away from his lucky charms. And she's no better, with her "drunken Irishman" remark. I think this couple-he's fully recovered and they're now married-actually hate the Irish. Which is a perfectly sensible position to take, considering they'll kick you out of their goddamn bars even when you're dropping a dollar a drink in gratuity. Bastards.
I thought you got “Foreign Accent Syndrome" in boarding school.
Or if you are a blonde entertainer from Detroit who decided to settle in London.
Did his penis suddenly look a lot smaller too?
the only irish peen I've ever seen (ooh, a poem!) had all the girth of a #2 pencil.
Did he go from job to job, only showing up for as long as required to maintain his union membership?
It's like Sam Fuller's Shock Corridor, where the black patient thinks he's a klansman. Only, with potatoes.
I was thinking more along the lines of Ethel Merman turning into Robert Hays in "Take This Job And Shove It."
I think the bartender deserves more than a dollar a drink if you're drinking triples and not wearing any pants.
In what world is a drunk and pant-less Balk alone not a handsome reward?
His hospital-bed shtick would have been more inspired if the IV was delivering Guinness into his arm.
"The Irish are the Negroes of Europe." - some drunk irishman
I thought that was the Wo--erm, Italians.
When did you get bounced from the Old Town Bar?
The only people who talk about themselves as a geographically defined people more than Texans are the Irish.
Ah, shore, but they're good yokes. Even the langers and coolchies and mullas and knackers and skangers and pikeys. Irish-Americans on the other hand, well, they can go to hell or Boston for all I care.
Balk, was the Irishman in that bar you no longer frequent Sean Connery from The Untouchables?
Having just got back to NYC from Dublin yesterday, I can report that most bartenders there were grateful for my shitty 50 Euro tips, probably because the entire economy there has crumbled before their bloodshot eyes. Just don't try to give out pounds or tell them you're going to "check out Belfast tomorrow." You know, for example.