Celebrating the X-Factor that is Irishness this St Patrick’s Day

AS THIS is the March edition of The Irish Voice, I must acknowledge that the 17th of this month is really for those who play the Expatriate Game. St Patrick’s Day has always been about Irish exiles. I know, I was born one.

Coming and going from this unique little island is an essential part of being Irish. Even before the neighbours decided to invade us, our monks, as educators, travelled to the continent. This was the world of Naomh Padraig before the British polity existed, and we weren’t a colony of the neighbours. Leaving Ireland, coming back here or longing for home, regardless of the passing of generations, has been at the core of Irishness, especially since An Gorta Mór.

Last month, I had two of my brood home here in Dún na nGall for a happy family occasion. Our revenge will be the laughter of our grandchildren. The Christening went well, and wee Saoirse was the star of the show. Her parents have a plan to make Ireland her permanent home. In the meantime, her dad and his two sisters are exiled children of the nation.

It is unquestionable that the places we go to benefit inordinately from what has often been most derided by those who consider themselves better than us—our Irishness.

It isn’t a coincidence that two of Scotland’s greatest comedic talents have an Irish surname. Billy Connolly’s roots go a long way back to Galway. Frankie Boyle is solidly second generation Irish, with both his parents coming from this county.

In England, Jimmy Carr (Limerick) and Steve Coogan (Mayo) are two highly visible examples of the disproportionate impact we Irish have on Britain’s creative life. The latter is forever associated with the appallingly hilarious Alan Partridge. This character allowed him to introduce Martin Brennan from Sligo to British screens. If you haven’t, YouTube is your friend, although you’ll be in danger of expiring with laughter. Recently, as a guest on The Late Late Show with Paddy Kielty, he described himself as ‘part of the diaspora.’

Perhaps the comedic chieftain of the Irish in Britain is one Terence Alan Milligan (above). A child of the British Empire, ‘Spike,’ as he will always be remembered, had an Irish father serving in the British Army in India. He grew up listening to stories about Ireland—some grimly true, others fantastical. It was a hedge school for his imagination.

Milligan acquired an Irish passport in 1962 when the British Commonwealth Immigrants Act of that year removed his automatic right—and that of millions of others—to British citizenship. His application for a British passport was refused, and he became an Irish citizen. In an interview with The Irish Times in 1963, he said: “I rang up the Irish embassy and asked them if I could become an Irish citizen, and they said: ‘God, yes.’ I signed one or two forms, and it was all over.”

Travelling on an Irish passport, he was inordinately proud of until his dying day. Born in India and a pioneer of surreal comedy on The Goon Show, he died a proud Irishman. On his headstone is the epitaph: “Dúirt mé leat go mé breoite!—I told you I was ill!

Is there another ethnic group in Britain that has such a creative impact? In music, there’s Lennon and McCartney from the swinging 60s. The Gallagher brothers from Manchester—Mayo again—said that they took inspiration from the Beatles. Then there’s Steven Patrick Morrissey, the controversial singer who is also second generation Irish, with two Irish-born parents. He’s a cousin of Robbie Keane, the Ireland footballer.

It’s fair to say that ‘Britpop’ has often been draped in a Tricolour. Singer Dido is an O’Malley on her father’s side. Of course, the iconic Shane MacGowan of the Pogues rams home the basic point.

The cultural footprint of this little island in Britain shows beyond any doubt that Irishness is a very special thing indeed. Perhaps it is the complicated, conflicted position of being in a place but not really of it that brings Irish creativity to the fore in Britain.

My father arrived in England in the 1950s from Mayo—the ‘no Irish’ signs are not an urban myth. Post-War Britain needed our sweat and toil, but we also brought with us what makes us a unique bunch in this global village. Looking back at this pantheon of creative giants, I realise that the real X Factor is Irishness.

Now, that’s something worth celebrating on St Patrick’s Day.

Phil Mac Giolla Bháin is an author, playwright and journalist based in Donegal. He was a staff reporter and columnist on An Phoblacht for many years. His novel Native Shore, a political thriller with a strong Glasgow Irish theme, is available at Calton Books