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I’VE ALWAYS BEEN a sucker for those ‘you couldn’t make it up’ moments. We all know these; the stuff that you would dismiss in a movie for being too unrealistic, like the brothers named ‘Winner’ and ‘Loser’ (yes, really).
At a conference in Anchorage one February, I became entranced by an old man in a coat made from a bear he’d shot and killed himself. The man wasn’t that entrancing, still less, let’s face it, was the fact that he’d shot the bear. It was more that, well, how often in your life are you ever going to meet a bear hunter, let alone one dressed for the sub-zero temperatures in a little number he’d skinned himself? Even at the time I knew this was a one-off experience. I’m likely to die never having stroked a bear-coat again, but I’m comfortable in that knowledge.
Two Christmases ago, living in Dublin, I had a similar experience. Don’t worry, nobody had skinned anything. There was a fair amount of bare skin, admittedly, but no bearskins. I discovered that the Irish national anthem is, in fact, this song:
(the inclusion of Matt Dillon in the video is, quite frankly, the final cork popping on Christmas) Video via RhinoUK/Youtube.com
I was in a cheesy club with some of my favourite people on this tiny island. It was the early hours and, as the Irish say in a gloriously euphemistic manner, there had been drink taken. In other words, the entire place was full of rat-arsed Irishfolk holding each other up as they brought the place down. Right towards the end of the night, on came the Pogues (not literally, though that would have been an even better story). Every. Single. Person. in the room suddenly pulled themselves together, stood upright as if at Mass, and burst into pitch-perfect, declamatory, Shane-McGowan-style-swaying song.
As a foreigner, it felt a bit like being shot. The sheer unexpectedness of it; the soundwaves resonating like shockwaves. You could virtually taste the words in the air, so thick it was with their syllables. Every line, every phrase hung there in the smoke-dense room, particles almost visibly woven into the overall smog and lifting it up, transforming this from any-other-evening-down-the-pub to oh-my-God-it’s-Christmas-and-we’re-the-happiest-funniest-luckiest-folk-on-earth-sure-we-are.
Let’s be clear here. It’s not as if I haven’t heard this song before. It would be nigh-on impossible to find anyone between the age of 15 and 50 who couldn’t give you at least the ‘I could have been someone/Well, so could anyone’ call-and-answer in their most soulful warble. As iconic Christmas songs go, it’s right up there in the dubious company of So Here it is, Merry Christmas and Do They Know It’s Christmas? Where it differs, though, is that it’s actually good, reversing the usual trend of Christmas records being a bit rubbish, really.
What made this particular night ‘in the drunk tank’ special for me wasn’t that it was the first time I’d ever heard the song. It wasn’t the first Christmas I’d spent on Irish soil. But it was the first time I’d witnessed what’s apparently perfectly common practice in Ireland; a room of people rising as one and belting it out as if Christmas depended on it. If Richard Curtis had been on hand, he’d have instantly added the scene into the director’s cut of Love Actually. I couldn’t tell you if there was snow floating gently past the windowpanes, illuminated softly by the glow of a Victorian street lamp – it was a cheesy club, remember, the windows were obscured by tinsel and fake mistletoe – but it felt like there should be.
It felt, to be corny about it, like the inside of a hug. And when people ask me what I liked most about living in Ireland, and I fail, so often, to properly articulate it, I give them this story. This, this was something that couldn’t happen anywhere else. This is the heart of Ireland, right here in the fairytale.
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I absolutely adore this song, mind you made me cry last week was my dads anniversary, came into kitchen for brekkie and what was on the radio??? Ah it’s brill, will never be matched.
Where, pray tell, did you find a club one could smoke in two years ago?!!!
Like most of these stories, totally made up….complete bull
Here Dars relax de cacks nd live a little, u clearly need ta get out more.
Beautifully written words, I suddenly feel very Christmasy :-)
What…that Irish are all idiotic drunks who worship a song? clown
The moment the author describes is an annual event for many Irish people in my experience. It marked “the start of Christmas” to my twenty-something self. Arms around shoulders, swaying in a drunken circle with your best friends belting out Fairytale of New York is hardly the healthiest past-time but it’s certainly an enjoyable one!
Only can be sung properly with about twelve pints on board!
I love this song. but your generalisations about rat arses Irish people are a bit insulting…
Sitting outside in Brisbane this morning, over a flat white on Christmas week,
missing all the drama that is Ireland
I am not a fan of this song but I loved reading this article. I will admit I love when this song comes on in an ‘ould lads pub and the whole place chimes in. Nothing like it, for that few minutes every one in on the same lovely drunken wave length. Well done on the article, and merry Christmas!
I think I will make “relax de cacks ” my Christmas motto
Marie, same here.I know I’m an ungrateful cow & Oz is great & all but this song makes me want to be singing in cold & dreary Dublin. Home is home (esp at Christmas) no matter what a shitty country it is
you wouldnt last 24 hrs in the dump
Well said.
That was for Blondie not the depressed and self hating Shaved person.
Very harsh
One of the best songs ever written, such a pity it gets played so much as to make you want to stick your head in a microwave.
Pure gifted talent.
‘The Irish national anthem is, in fact, this song’ ?
Two junkies talking about dying of AIDS? Think I’ll stick to The Soldiers Song!
A country of proud patriots, so proud to be irish they gave away their country to the EU…clowns
Reasons why BJ’s comment got so many thumbs down. I ignored it as I wanted to thumb both ways and don’t want to be greedy.
Btw BJ. While I love fairytale… I’ll definitely stick to Amhrán na bhFiann too. No contest.
And what’s that about ? A ditty that glorifies militarism that to be frank few that try to sing it know the words Having played music in pubs and clubs there’s nothing that makes me want to vomit more than the sight of some tool in a track suit mumbling the words of the anthem through the bottom of his pint, hand in chest like he’d been in the GPO himself. Give me Shane anyday.
Isn’t it ironic that this song about 2 people in New York makes Irish nostalgic for home.
The article described what happens when fairytale is played in most pubs around the country after 11oclock any night! And it did describe the atmosphere very well. However, to say it is the heart of Ireland is nonsense. That was just describing the stereotype. To describe what it’s like to be Irish is impossible because we are unique. And I love the song by the way!
Unique fools
Hate it..And him more…,
Hate is an awful thing. You need to chill out a bit more.
depressing song for a depressed little shi*hole
It’s a damn fine song which suffers from being overplayed to death. This is my first year ever being away in the run up to christmas so for once I’m near longing to hear it when I hit Cork Airport on the 21st. That said up to this year my view has always been less is more so stop playing it to death!
Was at a house party on Friday. This song come on and every gathered in the living room, linked arms in a circle and sang just as you described in this article.
It is so very true.
Stupid drunks
The Irish love for this song often makes me wonder if people see the real meaning of this song. It’s quite depressing really. A couple who have destroyed each other through destructive behaviour and addiction. Not exactly festive cheer…
I think they just like to be able to shout “You scumbag, you maggot”
Apparently The Pet Shop Boys-You Are Always On My Mind was better?
You have just arrived at Dublin Airport from New York or Sacramento. Now you need transport downtown. Follow the signs in the Airport marked “donkey carts” and you will come to a spacious field thronged with hand-made wooden carts, each with a small donkey in harness. For the price of a glass of whiskey, a driver in a green smock will take you down the leafy lanes to the city centre, signing “fairytale of new york” and swigging from a bottle of Poteen…….
IRELAND IS A GREAT PLACE TO BE FROM……
Ah here we go again.
What a crock of shite, booze and singing-its the fall of Berlin but still we have this dewy eyed balls about the spirit of an Irish Christmas.
Get up the yard, for Chrissakes.
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