Degrees of Irishness

There are those in New York City and elsewhere who describe themselves as Irish when, in fact, they have far less- genuine- Irish blood than I do! Yet, somehow, owning in varying degrees to proximity, history and my accursed accent, I am condemned to an overriding Englishness that is as crippling as it is perpetual. Maybe I haven't immersed myself particularly well in Irish culture (all the 'Danny boy' stuff, when done tongue-in-cheek by my fellow countrymen on St. Patrick's day, irks me something rotten) and, perhaps, I do not have such a claim to the heritage as my half-Irish Mother, my Uncle and my Aunt...

On the other hand, I did live in Ireland for the best part of a 2006 and have returned for extended periods since. Furthermore, The Cranberries, Duke Special and even Boyzone have reduced me to tears on seperate occasions... Still, short of a blood transfusion and a radical overhaul of my genome, nothing can make me more Irish! Meanwhile, over the Atlantic, I just know that some mixed-up Yankee-doodah is strolling around mouthing off about his great, great grandfather's Irish uncle, while sending a monthly cheque to Sinn Fein and doing an embarrassing impression of a leprechuan every time he meets a genuine Irishman. A very unjust state of affairs I must say...