Keeping it lit – Frank McNally on attending the global premiere of Gloomsday
The chronological aphelion of Bloomsday
Decayed Centenary - Frank McNally on the history of Irish brain rot
A rather uninspired choice as Oxford University Press word of the year? Maybe not
The Eyes Have It - Frank McNally on the feast day of St Lucy
The name Lucy shares its origins with the word lux, Latin for light, so it’s no coincidence her feast day coincides with the darkest time of the year
No Bloom at the Inn – Frank McNally on the delayed debut of a new (and old) Dublin pub
I just hope the ghost of Burton’s most famous non-customer has not entered an objection
Leap in the dark — Frank McNally on the obscure origins of an Irish religious insult
Religious ‘jumpers’ seem to have been largely associated with the far west of Ireland
Prose and Con — Frank McNally on the rise and fall of a famous local newspaper
In its brief existence, The Taxpayers’ News achieved the distinction of giving John B Keane his print debut
Souper imposed - Frank McNally on Famine insults and Flann O’Brien’s debt to Con Houlihan
Under the influence
Pint of order – Frank McNally on getting to the ballot box
At 9.30pm, mid-pint – and mid-point too – I tore myself away to vote
Swift justice – Frank McNally on the height of the Drapier’s Letters controversy
Jonathan Swift also fanned the flames with songs and poems written for a popular audience
Parallel projection – Frank McNally on watching Gladiator II and Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat back-to-back
Extreme violence and European imperialism
When hospitality begins at home – Frank McNally on having a great welcome for yourself
The great self-extended welcome seems relatively modern
Conflict of many colours – Frank McNally on a finely illustrated atlas of the Civil War
On a colour-coded map, Kerry’s grim ratio of deaths is represented by a shade that looks like dried blood
Lunar quest – Frank McNally on moon missions, misinformed quiz questions, and mountweazels
Revenge of the anoraks
The Dromcollogher cinema fire disaster – Frank McNally on a fateful day in 1926
The death toll of 48 represented a tenth of the village’s population