If you are a British journalist investigating the Celtic Tiger and/or our wonderful literary renaissance I thought you might be able to use a few pointers on how to behave for the duration of your stay in our lovely country. Please get as drunk as you like. Irish writers are a sober lot these days but they will of course assist you in getting completely out of your face if that is what you have come here for, (admit it. . .). Nor will they laugh at you if you stick to a few basic rules. Stay upright. Keep talking. Don't stagger around saying that the Irish have a terrible drink problem. Don't drop the hand. An Irish woman (or "a lovely girl with a wild sense of humour and a grave charm") may accompany you on your trip to absolute oblivion but just because you are having a laugh doesn't mean that she will sleep with you. The only way to sleep with a lovely Irish girl with a wild sense of humour and a grave charm is to wait until she jumps on you and she won't jump on you because you are English and therefore Business. In short don't confuse drink with anything except drink. Don't confuse friendly behaviour with friendship, and don't crawl over the table at four o'clock in the morning crying about how lonely and hypocritical London is. Dublin is also lonely and hypocritical - we just have more fun along the way. Speaking of which - you may think that you are in a foreign country and therefore anonymous, but a few quick phone calls and your line, seed and breed are public knowledge - who you were going out with until January and how bitter the recent reshuffle in the Observer made you feel. Some of this information will be entirely false. This is normal. Keep smiling. In general, be aware that the people you are talking to have read your newspapers and watched your television stations, while you have not been able to return the compliment. We like this. Prepare for detailed conversations about Neil Hamilton and reticence about Charlie Haughey. If you feel at sea, say the words "Mary Robinson" as often as possible.
Please don't laugh at everything we say. Irish people are often, but not always, trying to amuse you. A creative turn of phrase does not imply that the subject under discussion is funny. For example "The Brothers used to whip the bejaysus out of us," may make you rock with mirth because of that wonderful use of "bejaysus", but there is a chance that the person you are talking to is about to burst into tears. Prepare to be bored. You will hear at great length about people's formative moments, with the excuse that they are illustrative of Irish life and are therefore of National Importance. This is incredibly dull stuff and, perhaps for that reason, very private. There are some things that will surprise you. Try to keep this surprise to yourself. A person who talks like a Roddy Doyle book may be pleased to discover this, or he may kick your head in. Remember that Irish people are paranoid that you might think we are thick, even when you are amazed at how clever we are. Especially if you are "amazed" at how clever we are. Don't say "The waitress recognised the book I was reading! And then she told me that I'd really enjoy Pat McCabe!" You may feel that this is a national compliment; we will feel that there is nothing astonishing about the fact that people can read. More on self-image: if someone tells you that the economic boom is a result of corrupt politicians who are just a dab hand at filling out forms for EC handouts, always say "Well that's fine as far as infrastructure and farming are concerned, but you have to hand it to them for keeping within the ERM, adhering to IMF guidelines, using tax incentives to attract the multinationals, keeping inflation down and avoiding boom-and-bust policies - unlike, for example, the Tories." We do tend to do ourselves down. Don't join in. We are new to money, so avoid London habits such as criticising people's clothing, their taste in interior decoration or the state of their teeth. Remember that the most interesting person in the room may not be the most important. Irish people have many different ways of being successful and the laughing group in the corner may be listening to someone who has never even won a literary prize. The rest is obvious:
Don't tell leprechaun stories about the bizarre man running the B&B you stayed in in Tipperary.
Don't call Britain "The Mainland".
Try not to be delighted at examples of inefficiency or lawlessness (like people smoking under the no-smoking sign at the baggage carousel at the airport).
Never, ever, ever, try to imitate the accent.
If you mention the North, assume a wistful listening position and keep your mouth shut.
Remember you also come from a place where people drink their heads off and the trains don't run on time - so there is no need to get sentimental about the oul' fella singing Molly Malone on the seven-hour crawl to Sligo. In short: don't be jealous, try not to love us for no reason at all, and bring good gossip with you. Remember that we are paranoid and. . . have a good time.