Cat Amongst The Pigeons

Cat Amongst The Pigeons

History is filled with stories of the Norths vs. the Souths. America has the Civil war, with the south and the North going at it tooth and nail. Korea is currently divided into North and South, Germany had its own division going on, but they were in the other directions, east and west. But the north and south for the purposes for this discussion are those of Ireland. Northern Ireland , and the Republic of Ireland, here forth referred to as NI, and ROI.

Now the two capital cities of these countries are located about 100 miles apart, but dear god one could easily be on the other side of the planet, I find them so different in speech, attitude, and temperament. In Dublin, I feel like I am about to get hustled, dragged down an alley and robbed. In Belfast I actually feel safe. Ironic actually when you consider that a few years ago here was heavy sectarian fighting, and on occasion in July the odd fire bomb will break out during the marches. But for the rest they happily coexist in a weird kind of pretend peace. It seems to work for them.

The title says pretty much what this post is going to be about, putting the cat amongst the pigeons. By this I mean, I am going to go to a place that will probably piss a few more off than those already out to lynch me. But hey, if you aren’t pissing a few people off, you aren’t doing something right.

So where to begin? First off when I talk about the Irish, I am firmly refering to those that live in the southern part of the island, known as the Republic of Ireland. I am not referring to those in the North, why the distinction, because the differences between the two are so vast as to cause me to think I am on two different planets.

The first difference is the accent, the Northern Irish accent does something to my bits, I absolutely love hearing the wee dears chatter and natter on about things. But after living there for sometime you also come to realise the accent is just one of the many differences between the two Irelands. The inhabitants in NI are polite, I mean to the point of I bumping into someone, due to not looking where I was going, and having them apologise for being in my way! How is that for poiletiness?

But the thing that strikes me the most is the genuine gentleness and sweetness of the inhabitants. Now mind you, this is the same place that during July when marching season is in full swing, shit can kick off and the odd bombing can happen. But generally speaking when the two halves are not trying to kill each other, they generally manage to co-exist in a rather tenuous peaceful sort of way.

They are also unaffected. Sincerely not up their own asses. When I look in utter shock at the size of one of the wee lads members, and comment on the fact that the size is some what on the larger scale of things. They genuinely think I am just being nice. Bless them.

Now drive 100 miles to Dublin, and you are entering a different planet. I feel now a days just walking down the street that I am in fear of getting robbed just for having matching shoes. Granted that may be an over exagartation, but when you hear about the various robberies of escorts on an almost daily basis, it makes one think twice about visiting the place.

The lads in the north are plain and simply yummy. I mean they are quite stylish in their own way, polite, and as with the English demographic, I will see under 25s. Not in Ireland. The 45s are bloody ignorant and clueless, I am not having some young cocksure, clueless twat turn up and get cheeky with me, or try to rob me. They are moving in packs nowadays, like rabid wild dogs. Scary to be honest.

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