Shane Hegarty's encyclopaedia of modern Ireland
Doesn't it make you really f***ing furious to hear everyone being so bloody angry these days? We were always an angry nation. The national psyche had a big pink scar across it, usually in the shape of a Christian Brother's palm. But over the centuries we had learned to channel our deep, seething fury into traditional avenues, such as alcohol problems, violent domestic dysfunction or just legging it to England, never to be seen again.
Today, though, it's acceptable to publicly rage against everything, or just anything. The hospitals, the Government, the trains, the roads, the house prices, all prices, the rich, the poor, the greedy, the lazy, the neighbours, the neighbours' kids, those f***ing fireworks going off for two months now.
We blame previous generations for the past, blame this generation for the present and hate the next generation for screwing up the future. Meanwhile, Justice Minister Michael McDowell recently blamed the media for "handing out the angry tablets". Angry tablets? Nobody told me that free angry tablets were being handed out. That makes me so f***ing mad.
The national ulcer is predicted to grow by 5.8 per cent next year. If they ever take the fluoride out of the drinking water, they might consider replacing it with Pepcid AC. We're on a rant, and nobody's allowed to interrupt us. As a nation, we've become the angry drunk railing from the corner. Look at a satellite image of Ireland and you'll see the country gradually turning a deep puce. We're yelling at each other from our cars. Screaming from our bikes. Tutting in cramped railway carriages. Staring extra hard at the person who's jumped the queue.
This is not an era of stoicism, for dignified self-restraint. When we encounter a problem or are victims of a sleight, then the immediate response is to pick up the phone and log the complaint through the official channel: Liveline. "Joe, goddamit, I'm sick of people being so angry. Everyone is so livid. Society's become so riven with casual violence, Joe, that I could just kill someone. But I sent my blunt instrument to be polished three weeks ago, and it's still not done yet. Aargh."
Of course, it is the elders of our community who most notice the rudeness and anger of modern Ireland. Old people are forever telling us how uncouth and disrespectful everyone is now. How nobody has time for anyone else, how the Irish no longer bother with old-fashioned manners and courtesy. And once they've finished telling us this, they'll skip the queue in the shop or shove their way onto the train while deploying their elbows like spikes on the wheels of a Roman chariot.