Insults and put downs use to be a way of life for me. It was part of the culture that I was surrounded with. It was like a roast that they have for celebrities. It was a strange show of affection that a person knew you well enough to hit the nerves just enough that you knew that it was true, but not cripple you. We were polite to those that we didn’t know or thought it was not worth knowing. Politeness, oddly, was an insult. The people around us would try to insult us, but every time they tried, we owned it, turned it around, and used it against them.
“I may be just a stupid grunt, sir, but I wouldn’t do that If I were you”
“Oh, you don’t know what… …AHHH!”
It was strange because the only people that could truly insult you were your friends. Yet this caused a “thick skin” that made it so that when some on insulted us that your friends would say “They called you XXXX man your more of an YYYY? You only wish you could be an XXXX.”
When I was growing up in Dublin,the greater the insult directed at you the greater your esteem in the eye of the insult thrower.
Many moons ago,my ex-wife and myself were in Dublin - 'twas her first time there - and we went into a pub I knew well.The Barman spotted me and proceeded to hurl vile and terrible insults on me before buying us a drink.
She never really got that aspect of Dublin life
I’m not sure if “insult” is the correct term here. Perhaps “teasing” would be more apt. We always teased each other incessantly (still do). I think its a sort of “manly” way of expressing affection … in a purely platonic way, of course!
Ah yes – the slag. A different thing all-together from an insult. I spend a great deal of time in a pub owned by a man from Belfast, and the clientele is largely Irish as well. Many of my friends are also from Ireland so I’ve had a great deal of exposure to this phenomenon for 20 years now. I’ve witnessed many times a culture clash of sorts when any non-Irish strolled into exchanges between two paddies where the slag was underway. The unsuspecting Yank would take the exchange literally and be in disbelief about how the two were treating each other. What they didn’t understand was that it’s actually an affectionate interaction. You can only slag friends you know well – and like, and it’s just for a laugh and the “craic.”
It took me a while to catch on as well and many times I was left wondering. But when I realized what was going on – and joined in – I realized it was almost more of a sport between friends. If you couldn’t come away with both people feeling like good friends – you weren’t doing it right. After a few years of enjoying this “sport” I would accidentally, out of habit, slag a good friend that is outside of the Irish music scene. The result was having to offer an explanation – and apology.
Someone once gave me an explanation about the “slag” that makes some sense, but I have no idea if it was hypothesis or theory. They said that the Irish, being put down by the British in the press and everywhere else for so long, used the practice to disarm the real insult by mocking it. Maybe someone knows more about this and can explain… or maybe no explanation is necessary… who knows.
I have an ongoing slag-session with an Australian fellow who goes by the name, “Dow” over in the session,org. He plays an English system concertina and mine is Anglo. We slag each other, all in fun, about how the one we play is superior, and we do it with reckless hyperbole. Sometimes other unsuspecting readers will chastise us for being so rude and cruel, but they’re missing the point. For that reason Dow and I have had to leave disclaimers every now and then. And if we neglect to leave a smiley face – all hell can break loose. But I assure you that the private emails to each other have no indication that we aren’t just slagging. Actually, we have developed a good friendship. Besides, Dow can’t help it if he happened to choose a silly Brit-box by accident.
One thing that my understanding of the “slag” has made clearer is the difference. To understand the “slag” will help to better understand and recognize the insult.
I took a co-worker over to my crazy cousins’ place to party one day. Mark is a tall and thick skinned guy who likes to be politically incorrect to get a rise out of people. However, today he was faced with his friend and co-worker’s kindly looking aunt. Raised in Northern Europe and Greece, resident of England and France at one time or another - a charming, petite (4 foot 10 inch) lady, with a disarming Euro accent. Now Mark can be quite charming and polite, and he was in this mode because it seemed appropriate.
What Mark didn’t know was that “slagging” is 75% of our mode of communication in this house. My aunt comes up to me, takes off her reading glasses, kisses my cheek and says “Hello darling.” Then she turns to my friend, I say “this is my friend Mark.” She tips her head back to peer up at him and says “you’re a tall f***er.” I was dying laughing - he was speechless for about 2 minutes.
He was nearly recovered when my cousin arrives. Now she’s a very stunning, petite lady, same height as her mother, and less than 100 pounds even when soaking wet. I didn’t even get a chance to make an introduction. She walks in the door and says “You’re Daniel’s new gay lover?” and gives him a charming innocent smile. Now I’m nearly rolling on the floor, and my friend is standing their with his mouth hanging open and nothing to say (a first I assure you in the presence of a beautiful lady).
He recovered quite well however - perhaps because he had lived in Scotland for a few years. Before the visit was over he had verbally and good naturedly reamed every cousin, aunt, and uncle a new one.
I don’t think anyone is politically correct by nature - that sort of thing has to be trained. Polite and politically correct are not the same thing. I’ve known quite a few people who were “naturally” polite but I’ve never known anybody who was “naturally” politically correct.
