It's (yet) another occasional series!
IRISH-ISMS I'm made of Irish stuff, all the way through. But – and it's a big but – I was born in London. I'm definitely not London Irish (that conjures up images of thick necked rugby players high on Guinness, weeping their way through Danny Boy); nor am I West Briton (a contemptuous Dublin term for Irish people with a posh English tinge to their accents). I'm English to the naked eye and ear, but sometimes, just sometimes, some fruity Irish turns of phrase slip out and expose me as the Celt that I am. I'm going to share some of the ones I grew up with. I have no pretensions to accuracy, but you didn't really need to be told that, did you?
"Forty-Coats"
A useful one, this. It's a not altogether complimentary nickname for a woman who pays too much attention to her wardrobe, your smug, over-groomed acquaintance who has a new outfit for every occasion and who always seems to be wearing something new (and slightly naff). Think Mother of the Bride. “She's a right Forty-Coats”, my Grandmother would say about the woman next door, swanning off to mass in yet another foxfur stole. In modern times, Vanessa Feltz is a Forty-Coats, as is Carol Vorderman.
IRISH-ISMS I'm made of Irish stuff, all the way through. But – and it's a big but – I was born in London. I'm definitely not London Irish (that conjures up images of thick necked rugby players high on Guinness, weeping their way through Danny Boy); nor am I West Briton (a contemptuous Dublin term for Irish people with a posh English tinge to their accents). I'm English to the naked eye and ear, but sometimes, just sometimes, some fruity Irish turns of phrase slip out and expose me as the Celt that I am. I'm going to share some of the ones I grew up with. I have no pretensions to accuracy, but you didn't really need to be told that, did you?
"Forty-Coats"
A useful one, this. It's a not altogether complimentary nickname for a woman who pays too much attention to her wardrobe, your smug, over-groomed acquaintance who has a new outfit for every occasion and who always seems to be wearing something new (and slightly naff). Think Mother of the Bride. “She's a right Forty-Coats”, my Grandmother would say about the woman next door, swanning off to mass in yet another foxfur stole. In modern times, Vanessa Feltz is a Forty-Coats, as is Carol Vorderman.
I LIKE HER Sue Perkins. Does everybody like Ms Perkins? Jaunty and flip, she has a tomboyish glee that is contagious. Prettier the older she gets (a good trick: how does she do it?) and dead clever with it. And she holds her own against the mighty self-love of Giles Coren in The Supersizers.
I DON'T LIKE HER Kylie Minogue. There. I've said it. Come lynch me, Minogue fans, I'm prepared to die for my beliefs. And one of my core beliefs is that women with faces like shrink-wrapped civets shouldn't claim to have had a mere touch of Botox now and then. Her expression is the same whether she's on stage, having an orgasm or attending a funeral. And enough already with the corsets and the feathers and the Manolo's, Kylie. She's obviously a pro, probably very nice, but I have a strong suspicion that without the auto tuning she sounds like Gordon Brown.
FAVOURITE QUOTE OF THE MOMENT Outside a shop on Regent Street in W1 I saw a hoarding that read Where there's tea there's hope. And I cannot disagree. (Although I would add a Mr Kipling Bakewell slice for good luck.)
