Harney sun-bed ban seen as attack on Orange tradition

Newton's Optic: Tánaiste Mary Harney has unveiled plans to tackle the cancer of vulgarity, writes Newton Emerson.

Newton's Optic: Tánaiste Mary Harney has unveiled plans to tackle the cancer of vulgarity, writes Newton Emerson.

Levels of vulgarity have soared over the past 10 years due to a variety of social and environmental factors, with those on low incomes among the worst affected.

As a first step to addressing the issue, children under 16 will be banned from using sun-beds. The Tánaiste denies that this is a "nanny-state" measure.

"Everyone should take personal responsibility for their long-term health," she said. "But this isn't about health. This is about half-naked teenage slappers hanging around on street corners, wrinkly single mothers hanging around in provincial nightclubs and kids turning up for First Communion looking like they've been dunked in Bisto.

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"We've laughed at these people behind their backs for long enough. Now it's time to laugh right in their prematurely-aged faces."

The Tánaiste's remarks were immediately condemned by unionists. "This is another attack on the Orange tradition," said a spokesman yesterday.

Sinn Féin has also objected to the proposals. "It's a new tan war," warned an authorised official. "We're extremely browned off about it."

Irish sun-beds produce two types of ultra-violet radiation, UVA and UVB. In Northern Ireland, ultra-violent UVF is also available.

The popularity of indoor tanning among the menial classes is a source of considerable distress to all educated people and an international embarrassment to the country as a whole.

"Ireland has long been notorious for this humiliating social problem," says Melanie Omagh, who lectures in plebeian psychology at Dublin Sunday Business College.

"As far back as the 19th century, English writers noticed that the Irish kept their pigment in the parlour."

Ms Omagh blames much of the phenomenon on female insecurity.

"The typical Irish woman has blond skin and brown hair," she explains.

"By using dangerous machines and chemicals to achieve brown skin and blond hair, the common Irish woman is subconsciously saying 'I hate myself and I want to die'."

Certain types of Irish men are also increasingly afflicted.

"Among unskilled labourers and the long-term unemployed, tanned skin is widely believed to complement gold jewellery, cheap leisure-wear and republican tattoos, as well as reducing the visual impact of obesity," Ms Omagh adds.

"Curiously, these are often the very same men who think dark-skinned people should kept out of Ireland at all costs."

However, it is the artificial tanning of small children that perhaps best signifies the shocking moral incontinence of the lower orders.

"The parents - or more usually, the parent - of a tanned child is sending out a variety of coded signals," Ms Omagh explains.

"These include 'I don't care what you think', 'I do care what you think but I don't understand how you think' and 'I want you to think we go on holiday five times a year'. All of these signals are a clear provocation to the middle class, especially the last one. No civilised person wants to be reminded of the effect budget airlines have had on the Mediterranean."

This is why the Tánaiste's latest initiative is likely to be welcomed by all Progressive Democrat voters, including those who normally favour unrestricted consumer choice, minimal business regulation and a laissez-faire approach to public health.

"We'll test the ban out first in the greater Dublin area," said Ms Harney. "They didn't call it 'The Pale' for nothing, you know."