Before we all get completely sick of all this guff about our economic success, some consideration ought to be given to the role of Irish music in creating the phenomenon.
Not long ago, when the Celtic Tiger was only a kitten that could be tickled safely by every passing multinational, the Irish music industry was out on its own in the jungles of international commerce, fearlessly searching for new markets.
One of the marks of any sophisticated industry is the ability to identify a demand for a product, even before the demand exists. In this respect, Irish music recognised early on that there was a global need for what is known in the business as "Celtic New Age Stuff". The rest is history.
Who would have guessed a decade ago that the world would ever need Enya soundtracks, for instance? But in the space of a few short years, these have become vital components in every elevator, telephone call-answering system and mid-price restaurant in the western hemisphere.
And not only in the West. I hadn't realised just how successful this product was until I found myself last year in a cafe in the Himalayan foothills of Northern India and, you guessed it, I needed to use the bathroom in a hurry. Well, actually, that's not relevant here - what I meant to say was the cafe was playing an Enya soundtrack.
The place was full of Tibetan monks and even they seemed to know the tunes. Indeed, many of them appeared close to attaining Nirvana - the state of extinction of the individual personality. I know that's the effect Enya has on me, anyway.
So even in developing parts of the world where there is still little demand for microchips and such, the Celtic "thing" is penetrating. It is well known that the Chieftains have been working to open up China. And the great thing is that the demand cannot be supplied locally: just as the Irish don't attempt to make cars, not even the mighty Japanese have tried to make Enya records.
But while Enya is the Kerrygold brand of the phenomenon, the industry is making its presence felt everywhere you go. Look at Riverdance. Look at that Michael Flatley show - if you can. Look at British Airways, painting Celtic designs on their planes' tails. Look at France, which recently hosted a whole year of Irish art and culture, of which the French - the most sophisticated people in the world - can't get enough.
Yes, the Celtic thing is booming. But, by way of a kind-of industrial review, let's take a closer look at the phenomenon and see if we can make any recommendations for the future.
An examination of the Celtic product reveals two broad themes. These are: (1) bad weather and (2) personality disorders. In the first category, you find (the following are either the names of records, perfumes, soap brands, or else I made them up) Celtic Mist, Celtic Storm, Celtic Twilight, Celtic Breeze, Celtic Ray, and so on.
In the personality disorder category, you find (I only made up one of these) Celtic Moods, Celtic Visions, Celtic supporters, Celtic Passions, and Celtic post-traumatic stress disorder with complications.
So much for the product itself. But what is it based upon? Again, here there are broad ideas at work: namely that Ireland is a Celtic nation, and that the Irish are the keepers of ancient wisdom exclusive to the Celtic race. Is this true? Well, historians agree that the Celts invaded Ireland at some stage. But then so did a lot of other people: such as the Firbolgs, the Picts, the Tuatha de Danaan, the Norse, the Danes, the Normans, Alexander the Great, Ivan the Terrible and Genghis Khan.
THERE were the English too, of course, who have periodically wrought havoc in Ireland, most recently in the form of stag party weekends. Also recently there were the Eurovision people who, throughout the 1990s, ravaged the night clubs of the area once known as the Pale, adding their culturally mutant genes to the national pool.
Thus, by any standards, we are a mixed-up race. So who then were these Celts, who have exerted such a strong grip on our imaginations? Again, history teaches us that they were small, violent Mediterranean types, rather like Al Pacino, or Joe Pesci. Either that or they were tall, fair, violent types, like Arnold Schwarzeneggar - historians are divided on this point. Also, and this is important, some of them were women.
So, still confusing. But we do know that the Celts had a very nice line in jewellery and that they were ferocious warriors - who liked to run naked into battle!
Think about this last bit. I don't know about you, but I have never experienced an urge to run naked even into the bathroom. So can I call myself a true Celt, or has my genetic heritage been polluted by those of other, more pacific invaders?
Well, it's difficult to say. There have been occasions when I have experienced what might be called a Celtic Moment (memo: possible title for record collection). Like the time when I confronted the guy who tried to get in front of me in the cinema queue:
Me: Er . . . excuse me, but perhaps you didn't notice there's a line?
Him: Perhaps you didn't notice I'm bigger than you?
Me: Sorry, sir. My mistake.
He was smaller than me, in fact, but he was a Mediterranean type. The point is that Celtic moments are fleeting and ethereal, like Celtic mists and twilights and all that other stuff, and you can't really depend on them to see you through a crisis.
It is hard to know if any of it is real, at all. But - hey - the profits are, so let's not worry about it too much. It's just good to keep some perspective, so that as we think up more and more sophisticated and value-added Celtic products to sell to the world, we don't fall into the trap of taking any of it seriously ourselves.
Look at the poor Scots. Historians agree that most present day Scots are as German as the Ruhr valley, and that their ancestors killed and ate the last remaining Celtic highlanders sometime around 1740. But now the Scots prance around the world in kilts with no underpants, dancing highland flings and playing bagpipes badly, like they're they last surviving cousins of Finn MacCool.
We could turn out like that, if we're not careful. And people would only be laughing at us.