I read in the Metro the other day that the Department of Foreign Affairs is contemplating introducing an ‘Irish Heritage certificate’. This means that if you can prove you have even an ounce of Irish ancestry – as an estimate SEVENTY MILLION people worldwide do – you qualify as Irish, and can use this certificate to get loads of awesome discounts in Ireland.
Cue a stampede of ecstatic Americans, delighted that their dream has finally come true – their mother’s aunt’s cousin’s grandmother’s father’s brother’s dog is Irish, meaning that their one fifteenth of Irish-ness actually counts. Oh blessusansaveusall.
This certificate will most likely be credit card sized, meaning that thousands of randomers, many of whom have probably never even been to Ireland in their life, can store their Irish-ness neatly in their wallet and whip it out at the first visitor attraction.
“Just because myself, both my parents and my grandparents have lived in America our entire lives, have never been to Ireland, don’t speak a word of Irish, have no idea who Michael Collins is or what an Eater Rising might be, and frequently pronounce ‘slainte’ ‘slaancha’, doesn’t mean we’re not Irish – look, I have a card to prove it!”
Alright I know I’m targeting those unfortunate Americans here, and I think this is meant to boost tourism – we all know the magical green land of tinkly music, those mischievous leprechauns and Guinness guzzling craic is a major tourist attraction, but I think it just dilutes Irish culture. Give us money and we’ll let you be a little bit Irish? Ah g’way wit yeh.
There is also an 'Irish pub' in France named the Loch Ness Inn.
Better still, there's a chain of Irish pubs in the States with an extensive 'Irish food' menu - one of my favourites is the 'Black and Tan Brownie'.
...Really? You're going to name a dessert after the Black and Tans and call it Irish? Why not just serve Union Jack pie?
If that's not to your taste, you can order a 'Dublin Platter', which consists of traditional Irish foods such as cheese dip, crispy chicken tenders, and chicken quesadillas. Eaten by our forefathers during the potato famine, of course. I could have sworn quesadillas were Mexican. Well, shows what I know!