Very few people know me as Denis Murphy – they call me the “Knife Man”. I’m 63 years old and I’ve been a door-to-door knife sharpener since 1992.
I’m from Rialto originally, then we moved out to Blanchardstown where my dad was a shop owner. I worked for Tesco in the UK for 10 years during the 1980s. When I came back I had a couple of shops in Dublin city centre, and they weren’t going very well because of the times. So I decided I needed to do something to get some cash. I saw an article in a magazine about this knife sharpener franchise, Giltsharp, and I thought I’d do it for a couple of months. Thirty-two years later here I am still doing it, but we’re all independent sharpeners now.
It’s a mobile service, so we go to the customer – mainly hotels, restaurants, delis, cafes, bars, food prep companies, hospitals and nursing homes. On the scissor sharpening side, I also do tailors and hairdressers.
Most of the work is down alleyways of loading bays. It’s all set up in the back of the van with a generator for power. I’ve had the same sandpaper-based machine for more than 30 years. It’s not a grindstone, so I take very little off the knife, which chefs love. After the sharpening is done on one wheel, it’s finished on the belt wheel, which is basically pressed cotton wool which I dress with wax, and that takes the burr off, polishes the knife and leaves it ready for use. I take pride in it, and it’s better than new.
I don’t use any gloves – you have to feel it. When I do a knife I just run it along my fingers to make sure the edge is right on it. I call them my testing fingers.
It’s not a glamorous job. This time of year it’s okay, but in the middle of winter, when you’re stood at the back of the van, it’s tough
I visit places generally every four to six weeks, but some of the big food prep companies, I’m with them every week. The majority have 10 to 20 knives that need sharpening, and I charge about €2.50 per knife.
It’s not a glamorous job. This time of year it’s okay, but in the middle of winter, when you’re stood at the back of the van, it’s tough. I’ve got rheumatoid arthritis, which I don’t think is attributed to the work, but the hands are obviously sore. Because the machine is vibrating all the time, by about two or three o’clock I’ve had enough. Even so, I love it. No two days are the same. A lot of the chefs aren’t just customers, they’re friends now, and some of them I’ve been dealing with for 30 years.
Bono’s chef heard of me, and she asked me to come in to sharpen her knives. She cooks for Bono and Ali, but a lot of the time it’s for when they’re entertaining guests.
I had one guy who was doing a martial arts exhibition and he was using a big sword from Japan to cut up melons and pineapples. We warn everybody how sharp the blades will be, especially when we do their knives for the first time.
It’s not a very attractive profession and it can be dangerous. I’ve had people come in over the years and I’ve trained them up. The wheel can be a bit frightening, spinning around 3,000 revs a minute. If you’re not alert 100 per cent of the time, you could catch the knife in the machine and it throws up into you. Luckily I’ve never had an accident.
This niche trade seems to be dying out. Ten years ago there were maybe six or eight of us working around Dublin, now I only know of three. Covid had an impact. Because I was doing the hospital canteens and the food prep companies that could work through Covid, I survived. But the demand is there. I’m busier now than I have been in 30 years.
It is upsetting because it is a good business, and it’s hard to convince somebody that they can make a good wage by going around sharpening knives. The young people coming up now, they’re interested in all the IT stuff. I have a grandson who is 15 and was hoping to pass it on to him but he has no interest whatsoever. So I’ll try to sell it in a few years when I’m ready to retire. – In conversation with Conor Capplis