'Tis the gift of the gab boy, like . . .

'Tis the gift of the gab boy, like . . .
By Billy Keane
August 24th 2002.

WITH Cork and Kerry fans descending on Dublin tomorrow for a unique all- Munster All-Ireland football semi-final, BILLY KEANE gives an almost neutral's A-Z guide to the strange lingo that will echo around Dublin's Fair City this weekend.

A

. . . is for Aha. 'Aha' is a Kerry word for 'yes'. Aha is only used when you want to say nothing at all. When you're saying nothing at all, you say even less than when you're saying nothing, if you follow me.

Like when the missus decrees "you're not going to Croke Park leaving me here with the four hungry children and a crop in the fields". Just keep on saying 'aha' at the end of each segment of her edict.

Now if you were an inhabitant of the affluent Dublin suburb of Foxe's Rock, you might utter 'yes dear'. In Kerry, we say 'aha'.

It's the same in Cork. If a Corkman says 'I will yeah', he is really saying 'no, I definitely will not'. For example: "Will you cheer for Kerry on Sunday Moss, because you've been living in Listowel for the last 40 years?" Corkman: "I will yeah."

B

. . . is for Boasting.

A Kerryman and a Corkman were great pals but there was always that undercurrent of rivalry. When the Corkonian boasted that Cork County Hall was Ireland's tallest building the Kerryman contradicted him. "My innocent boy, isn't it well known that the climbers' hut on top of Carrauntuohill is the highest building in Ireland.

"What's more my dear chap, Carrauntuohill is the world's tallest mountain. Taking this to its logical conclusion, the climber's hut is the tallest building in the world."

"Go 'way ya langer ya," replied the irate Corkman, "don't everyone know Mount Ever Rest is the highest."

"Aha," replied the Kerryman, "but don't everyone know too that Carrauntuohill is in a bit of a hollow."

C

. . . is for Colin Corkery. Joint best footballer in Ireland this year (along with the Kerry panel). C is also for Colm Cooper, of course.

D

. . . is for Dyke. 'Dyke is short for Mardyke, a beautiful river walk in Cork city and the home ground of my old club UCC. A 'dike' in Kerry parlance is a ditch. In Holland it's a sea wall. By all accounts, a dyke in America is a different thing altogether.

E

... is for Expletives. Used to abuse referees. See X.

F

... is for Fleadh. This is a tricky one. There are 100,000 people in Listowel at the Fleadh Cheoil na hÉireann this weekend. A fleadh is the Irish word for a festival, but if a Corkman was to tell his partner he was going to Listowel for the Fleadh, he'd get a wallop across the ear.

G

... is for Girl. Many Cork people put 'boy' at the end of every sentence. "You're a lovely looking girl, boy." In parts of Kerry 'like' is added. As in, "I love you, like" or "I like you love, like."

H

... is for Haircut. The Cork term for a haircut is a 'bazzer.' Most players now are 'bazzered' to the bone. In my day we all had long hair. Just look at the photos of the Kerry teams of the seventies.

When Horslips came to Ballybunion, everyone was playing air guitars and shaking their heads so violently you couldn't see the stage with the dandruff storm.

The players nowadays have the same haircut our fathers wanted us to have back in the seventies. Ah, the youth of today. Why can't they have long back and sides like we did?

I

... is for ITT. That's where Moynihan, Daly, Joyce and Donnellan won Sigersons. ITT was once named Tralee Institute of Technology, but for some reason it was changed to Institute of Technology, Tralee.

In Cork, Finbarr is shortened to Barry or Finnie. Gobnait is Gubby but nobody ever tries to shorten Fachtna. Try it out and see what happens, but whisper if you're reading this in a public place.

J

... is for Jack Russell. No relation to Mike Frank but a small dog which until recently ran onto the pitch at all big games in Croke Park. Have you seen him? There is a reward.

K

... is for Ketchup. After the debacle against Meath last August, I wandered into McDonalds in Dublin. From the back of the long line I heard a shout from a man who was bedecked in green and gold and slightly the worse for wear from drink.

"Hi," he roared at the multinational phalanx of staff. "Schnack box."

L

... is for Langer. Most people know 'langer' in Corkese isn't a German golfer with a putter as long as a three-prong pike. But did you know that the Kerry for 'langer' is 'ball of wax'. As in when you shout at the linesman who semaphores his flag south instead of north: "Go way ya ball of wax you." Or at least that's what it sounded like to me.

M

... is for Moo. The wailing you'll hear on Monday morning is not the banshee but an udder-shuddering chorus of exasperated moos from herds of heavy-papped, unmilked cows all over Cork and Kerry.

N

... is for Nicky Nacky. A footballer who is all show and no substance is a 'nicky nacky' footballer. The exact opposite to Brendan Jer O'Sullivan and Tomás Ó Sé.

A nicky nacky player will beat his man once and then go back to do it a second time and so on until he loses the ball. He is the type of player who would like to write his name and address on the ball and post it to himself. Men have been killed for less.

O

... is for Ó Sé, my very good friend Darragh. 'The Ventry One'.

P

... is for Prize. A Corkman won a weekend for two in Kerry in this very newspaper. Apparently he was the only person who could name the maiden names of the mothers of the Listowel Emmets junior team which won the 1957 North Kerry final.

You know what they say about a Corkman: he'll go in a revolving door behind you and come out in front of you. So this particular Corkman, we'll call him Fachtna, sneaked out to the 'phone box. "Hello, is this the Listowel Arms Hotel? This is Fachtna, the man what won the weekend for two in D'Indo. Is there any chance I could change it for two weekends for one?" Unfortunately for him, his wife, worried he might be having an affair, was listening outside the phone box.

Take it from me, Fachtna won't be strolling up Jones' Road tomorrow in the blood and bandages with a feed of drisheen parcelled under his oxter. No, he'll have to watch some English soap omnibus while the match is showing on the other channel. Isn't life very cruel all the same?

Q

... is for Queue. That'll be the long line of Cork ex-pats who will be in the pub tomorrow night ready to lay in if the Rebels win.

R

... is for Rivalry. Behind it all, Cork and Kerry folk are great friends. Isn't my only sister married to a Corkman? Don't worry lads, we made him sign a pre-nuptial. The children will be brought up in the Kerry faith.

The players too are very fond of each other and, as Bill McLaren says, "if there is a bit of argy-bargy, won't it all be forgotten after the game in the camaraderie of the intensive care unit."