If youse are troubled at all by holyawns and attercaps, weary of tallamacka, tired of gypes and constantly annoyed by lebbidhas and guldering blisters, if life has you entirely mulvathered and totally pan crocked, and yiz would rather be sinking the black in some shebeen, these are two books to cheer you up, especially if you have any interest in the origins of unusual words, and the riches of Irish slang. Words, is it. Diarmaid O Muirithe and Bernard Share are obsessed with the blighters. The two have done powerful work: to judge by the research clearly involved in both these volumes, their labours have been enormous, but there is no hint of academic tedium. It's obvious they were delira and excira throughout their endeavours, and the results glow with divilment. Diarmaid O Muirithe lectures in Irish at UCD, and A Word in Your Ear, a companion volume to The Words We Use, is drawn from his popular column in this newspaper. O Muirithe has made good use of his strong following from all over the country and abroad, from Dortmund to Florida: correspondents who are impressed by his authority but by no means too awed to query his sources or expand his knowledge even as he expands theirs. They are all given their due here, be they young ladies from Dalkey or pensioners from the Ards peninsula. (Indeed, most seem to be older people, so it's important their contributions are recorded.) Some have become somewhat querulous friends, other correspondents prefer to remain anonymous: these are usually the ones seeking enlightenment on the more dubious words and phrases. One anonymous reader ("whose epistle has a Thurles postmark" - hmm) is interested for example in the phrase "Sweet Fanny Adams". It turns out this lady actually existed (unless O Muirthile is pulling legs).
O Muirthile knows his Webster from his Oxford, delights in languages from Old Norse to Esperanto, and appears to be acquainted with every obscure glossary from the Middle Ages onwards. Yet he wears all this learning casually, maintaining an easy conversational tone and humour. There is no sense of the didactic, which is just as well - there is every indication that his followers and correspondents wouldn't wear it.
Bernard Share is another well-known wordman, a critic, journalist and teacher. Despite the subject matter, his Slanguage is a scholarly work which follows standard dictionary style and is enlivened by a broad range of reference: there is hardly a writer or journalist in the country who will not find himself or herself noted for some choice vulgarism or slang usage at some point, or indeed numerous points. The book would be a slighter affair without the numerous references to Roddy Doyle's work, for example, and others who figure prominently include Brendan Behan, James Joyce, Hugh Leonard, Frank O'Connor, Lee Dunne, Eamonn Mac Thomais and Paddy Crosbie.
Diarmaid O Muirthile beats Banagher, Banagher beats the divil and Bernard Share has the measure of the trio. It is to Share you must turn to learn the subtle difference between a BIFFO and a BUFFALO: some readers will be familiar with the former, but it may come as news that the latter is a "big ugly f-er from around Laois-Offaly". Them's gems. What would we do if these two word-wizards did not exist? We would just have to slawher without them. Anyone with a titter of wit will do a Ronnie Delany to the nearest good bookshop and buy both volumes.
Brendan Glacken is an Irish Times staff journalist
