HOW did the craic go over the festive season? The answer can be anywhere in the range from quiet to mighty. You will have noticed that the Irish spelling craic has, in recent years, taken over from the English spelling crack, presumably because the word crack developed a totally different complexion when it returned from north America with connotations of severe drug abuse and associated criminality.
In this, as in most cases, the local word has had to give way to the second generation import, although there have been some rare exceptions. A hooker, for example, may still glide proudly into the docks of Galway without having to change its name or its spelling in order to distract the attentions of the Garda vice squad.
But, in general, it is a case of majority rule. There are more English speakers in north America than in Britain or Ireland so, in our global village, the idiom of the New World has gained predominance over that of the old.
Even in the linguistic fastnesses of The Irish Times nowadays, things are, from time to time, freed up" rather than freed and people are "met with" instead of met.
We have not yet begun to "protest" French nuclear tests, however strongly some of us may have protested against, or even, on rare occasions, in favour of, them.
Neither has the President ever "said Thursday", although she has occasionally said many things "on Thursday" and even, in certain quarters of the capital, "of a Thursday".
In Russia and France, the impact of the north American language has been severe. A Russian hiznesmyen (fem. biznesmyenka) may snack on a pack(et) of Snyikers or Oreo Kukis between meetings, while the French equivalent, suffering from le jet lag, may settle for le jast food at Charles de Gaulle (Charly) on return from a transatlantic business trip.
Now if the Russians and the French, with all their proud records of defiance and culinary genius, have failed, is it not time for us to surrender gracefully rather than allow the American version of the language seep gradually through our hastily constructed and porous defences (I almost wrote dykes)?
After all, we have given them leprechaun, galore and, more questionably, so long (slan) while they have given us begorrah and top of the morning. So why can't we take the rest of what they have to offer without being overly skeptical, so to spell.
That eminent magazine, The Atlantic Monthly, keeps a close eye on new words and phrases which are entering the American language and, in time, will sweep across the once broad and impenetrable Atlantic via TV and the Internet.
Its Word Watch column serves not only to emphasise that America has become the powerhouse of the English language but also as a signpost to the expressions we may come to use in the not too distant future. Be prepared for some new buzz words and phrases in 1996.
So you are just learning that Astroturf is a type of synthetic grass on which sport is played in countries where they can't afford to tend the real thing?
WELL, you had better update yourself. Astroturf has, as the man said, taken on a whole new meaning. It now applies to a new synthetic reality which emanates from a certain type of TV advertising campaign feature "just folks" characters.
One such astroturf campaign by the insurance industry featured the "just folks" characters "Harry and Louise" looking very worried indeed about the Clinton health care initiative. It has been cited as a factor in the collapse of public support for the program(me). The term "astroturf", you will agree, is far neater than "synthetic grassroots campaign".
Not surprisingly, the old concept of class struggle between workers and the bourgeoisie is following the collapse of eastern European communism, patently out of date for English speakers. It will be replaced by conflict between the values of the "glass tower people" and the "anxious classes".
The "glass tower" folk now live, and work, in glass towers, whereas once their towers were of purest ivory. The "anxious class" can be defined as those who have no job right now, or may have no job next week, or next month or next year.
In short, they are victims, or potential victims, of "downsizing". But there won't be a revolution because the "anxious class" has no definable enemy. Those of its members who are still employed see their bosses, like themselves, as victims of the super competitive world economy.
Such a view is highly consistent with a society divided, not like ours into the "haves" and "have nots", but into the "have mores" and the "have lesses". If, however, we are to believe our own politicians, it won't be long until we are in the same boat (yacht?) as the Americans.
The "glass tower people" are the quintessential "have mores" although this, apparently, does not exclude them from becoming victims of "highrise cat syndrome", a phenomenon unlikely to cause the least bit of angst in the well exercised minds of the "anxious class".
Its simple implication is that cats which fall from the windows of penthouse apartments in New York have less chance of survival than their counterparts who fall out of windows in trailer parks (caravan sites) in West Virginia.
People who live in glass towers should not, therefore, throw cats, though it would appear to be all right for their offspring to throw humans. A new phrase, "human bowling" has made it to Word Watch and it means precisely what it says.
THE scene is the aftermath of the High School prom, a much more egalitarian event, linguistically, than our Debs Ball. Mom and Pop are keen to ensure that young Scott J. Schnaffelhuber III, or whatever his female counterpart may be called, does not overindulge in Budweiser, Millers Draft, Michelob or even Coors, despite its being unsullied by union hands.
Instead, they dream up some after prom activities which do not involve the demon drink. In richer suburbs, Atlantic Monthly tells us, parents spend up to $10,000 on velcro walls, bungee runs and the like in order to keep Junior off the booze and out of the automobile. Token prizes, such as TV sets, microwaves and refrigerators for the college dorm, are additional incentives.
One of these after prom events is "human bowling". In this game, Scott is placed in a large wire mesh globe and hurtled down a runway toward(s) six heavy, over sized pins. If he happens to throw up it will be for good, clean all American, non alcoholic reasons connected with family values.
This and other after prom activities involve the use of pneumatic pads and walls in order to avoid serious injury.
So, if you ask your daughter or son what she or he would like to get up to after the Debs in 1996 and she or he gives a reply which includes the phrase "inflatable activities", well, you really won't have all that much to worry about. Apart, of course, from financial ruin.