Despite what Frank McCourt would have us all believe, Limerick is in
fact pretty darned good. The people are know for their openness and wit,
and they have a unique way of conversing.
If for example a new family, members of the travelling community, moves
into a neighbourhood, a local might say to his wife:
"Good news! A new family of Latchees has just parked their caravan
in our locality!"
The wife, seeing an opportunity for celebration would, in all likelihood
suggest making themselves known to their new neighbours by inviting them
out for a drink.
"A new family of scobes in the area? Lets go on the batter?"
the wife would say.
Once settled into one of the many local pubs, doubtless the company would
end up talking about their own family members.
"Great news!" one father would say to the other.
"It turns out our eldest son is a steamer!" referring to his
son's membership of the local gay community.
At the end of the evening, one couple may excuse themselves and return
"Gonna up home," they might say.
"Great time for dem latchees," the wife would doubtless say
to the husband on the way home.
The following morning, feeling somewhat the worse for wear, the revellers
would likely have a severe thirst. Describing the sensation, the local
may well compare the sensation to an item of footwear found in the North
"My mouth is as dry as an Arab's tackie," he might say.
If the over indulgence caused an upset stomach, the wife may well respond
"Yes, and I'm as sick as a small hospital."
"I'm starvin'," the husband would reply.
"I'm so hungry could eat a scabby baby," the Limerickman might
say, which according to evidence admissable in a court of law, is nothing
more than a turn of phrase.