You Love Lamp? [Extended]


‘The Six Lamps’ by Maxi

From Jam Art Factory.

The Six Lamps.

By Maxi.

Celebrating Dublin’s 6 in a row.

Mark at The Jam Art Factory writes:

We have an A3 print to giveaway to a Broadsheet reader. To enter, just tell us what’s the most Dublin thing you’ve ever done?

Lines MUST close at 6.15pm 10.15pm!

Jam Art Factory

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44 thoughts on “You Love Lamp? [Extended]

  1. Michael McGovern

    Lunch at Boyer’s with my granny after mass at pro-cathedral. Dessert after at the Forte Cafe while she and her sister Julia gossiped. They kept me busy with a Knickerbocker Glory.
    Right past the Five Lamps on the 42 bus back home.

  2. Brother Barnabas

    explained to a culchie that they’re called “nettles”, not “stingers”

    and that it’s “watch out for those nettles”, not “mind out for them stingers”

    1. Slightly Bemused

      Us culchies are practical people, and given there are more stingers outside the Pale than in, you can have your nettles, and we can have our stingers :-)

      1. Janet, dreams of an alternate universe

        is Kildare not just an extension of Dublin…that’s what I keep telling myself anyway ;) :)

          1. Slightly Bemused

            No worries. And no, Kildare most definitely is not an extension of Dublin. We might win more matches if so :-)

            A lot of people from Dublin do live here, but that is more to do with house prices, and room to breathe. I moved here when I was 8 years old. I am still a blow in more than 40 years later

          2. Janet, dreams of an alternate universe

            I’m here a year and a half, miss the beach, I almost feel like what’s the point of being in Ireland if you’re not on the beach, but nice community vibe..and yup cheaper

          3. Slightly Bemused

            Ah but you are within easy reach of the beach. One lovely way is up over the Sally Gap and down the other side.

            When I was a crazy young fellow we used coast down those roads. It almost became a test of courage: who would re-engage the engine first.

            Back then I had better eyesight and coordination than now, but one of my friends gave up the competition when I hit 90mph without power on the way back. I am a little surprised, looking back, that we did not actually hit Blessington.

            Now, I was trained how to drive in a car moving fast by one of the instructors in Mondello. But he told me I would never make a good racing driver as I cared for my car too much. In my work, though, that training has helped.

            I used have no fear that I would acknowledge even to myself, and from here to the beach was a matter of minutes, not even an hour. One time I sat with stones and learned how to juggle with 5. 3 was easy, and in any case I already knew that. 4 was challenging – the thinking is different. 5 took time! I was not mitching that day, it was the summer.

            And then my daughter was on the way, years later. I had to drive her mother to the hospital, and suddenly it hit me. Driving crazily could actually kill me, sober as I was. In the right glasses I still can, but ever since that day a portion of my brain screams no, and I listen. I may never see her again.

            Sorry, not sure how I got to that thought.

            Oh, yeah, beaches. Always have a towel in your car, you never know when you might pass the perfect one. And seriously, do not coast down the Wicklow Hills!

  3. ReproBertie

    Ah sure c’mere till I tell ya, weren’t meself and Anto getting the bus from Dollyer into town and who did we meet only Ronnie, Philo and Bang-Bang heading to the Foggy for a few and sure how could we say no? But we were just settling into our sixth round when word came in that Heffo, Jayo, Dessie, Gilroy and all the lads were in the Boar’s Head with Mick and Carla and they all toasting Sam and Brendan. Well we were out the door like Lugs himself was after us an’ all an’ anyways. You should have seen the bleedin’ head on Anto the next morning. Some craic though.

  4. frank

    My mother who was originally from Eccles street went to her doctor (on the southside) with a pain in her chest. The doctor carefully examining her asked my mother to remove her brassiere and began thoroughly massaging her sternum and intermammary cleft. After just a few minutes he proclaimed with some zeal and self satisfaction ‘Angina!’.

    To wit my mother (now sweating profusely) replied ‘ANGINA’ I’M FUCK’N LOVIN IT!’

    I went up to the doctor the following day and told him if he wanted to ‘rub me Ma’s diddys he’d have to pay me Da’. While I was there I asked if he had any yokes. An he told us to get ou dat garden. d’Posh tramp.

    No word of a lie.

  5. Paulus

    Dya know what I’m goin’ to tell ya:

    There was this night when I was after drinking all of the Mickey Money; a rake of balls o’ malt I had.
    I was trying to sober up before going back to our gaff and reckoned a small single in Greasy Joe’s might do the trick. But, I hadn’t a shekel left.

    There was these two respectable-looking fellas coming out the side door of the Cat & Cage.

  6. Paulus

    Dya know what I’m goin’ to tell ya:

    There was this night when I was after drinking all of the Mickey Money; a rake of balls o’ malt I had.
    I was trying to sober up before going back to our gaff and reckoned a small single in Greasy Joe’s might do the trick. But, I hadn’t a shekel left.

    There was these two respectable-looking fellas coming out the side door of the Cat & Cage.
    Sez I, “Could ya lend me the price of a bag-a-chips”
    They looked at each other, then at me, and one of them says:
    “My good man, neither a borrower nor a lender be – William Shakespeare”

    “Well” sez i, “F**k off then – Brendan Behan”

      1. D

        Read Oscar wilde in Bewleys in the morning. Caught a Sam beckett play in The Gate in afternoon. And being a true dub, skipped seeing U2 in the Point to go see Cranberries in the Olympia as despite what country folk think, us Dubs appreciate all Irish talent.

  7. Praetorian

    Saying to me son when he brought home his girlfriend who’s from Ballyfermot the exact same thing me Da said to me when i brought my wife home who’s also from Ballyer…”she’s nice…ya won’t be goin’ home short a fiver in yer wages to her”…!!

    1. Slightly Bemused

      I do hope you do not mind that this brought a different chuckle to me :-)

      My dad is a Corkman, and I have wonderful family still there. You have great sense in marrying a Corkwoman. I do not mean to be impolitic, but please give her my best

      Once my mother told me early on that she had no idea half of what my Dad was saying. He was a centre-city man with a softer accent than some, but by god does it still come out when he wants it to! And she told me that for ages while courting and later married they nearly had to have translation sessions. And when he called his sister on the phone the pace increased, an she simply could not keep up.

      One reason my Dad told me he agreed to move where I still live was it was ‘outside the Pale’. She did not understand – was not part of her Loretto Convent education (not a slight on my mother, but the education she received at that time). And of course Cork was as far outside the Pale as you could get. And while I do fully understand the ‘up the country’, I like to chuckle at my Mum, a proud Dubliner (but never ever a jackeen) did not know that one.

  8. Emah

    I have on many occasions used the classic Dublin line of
    “do y’know the 5 lamps?”
    “well, go hang your bollix off it!”.

    No article on the 5 lamps would be complete without it. Given it is a well known and culturally significant utterance I respectfully request that the sweary filter not mess it up.

  9. johnny

    ..was with my country cousins out west,bar was closing,last orders ladies and gentlemen,a hotel,so i sauntered over,slapped the counter with my black amex,booked a room for the evening,keeping the bar open all night… oh so D….4:)

  10. Very naughty boy

    I missed the last bus to Tallaght one night in the 80s because I was caught peeing on a so-called “government building” on Kildare Street by a Garda from Cork.
    He made me miss my bus.

    Does that count?

    If I tell you that I gave him a false address do I get an extra point?

  11. CapernosityandFunction

    I played me auld triangle by the banks of the Royal Canal. Suppin on pints of plain and balls of malt washed down with a one n’ one from Leo Burdocks. Staggering home to me two up two down in me knock off Louis Copeland suit to regale all and sundry with tales of Bang Bang and Zozimus. Sound.

  12. D

    The only Dub thing I have heard of…. Trevor White got Irish people to welcome tourists at Dublin airport, bring them to city centre show them around and buy them a pint. It’s a real the cead mile failte. Nowhere else in world would do this.

    1. Slightly Bemused

      I do hope they were raised on songs and stories!

      Did I ever tell you my tattoo story? And this is the honest truth.

      Back when it was Messrs Maguire, I worked down the street. The pub was conveniently between me and my bus stop, I lived alone, and they had an excellent menu! They also had beer, including some of their own brewed on the premises.

      Needless to say over the years I had tried most of what they had (I am not a fan of wheat beers) and this day a group of young American girls came in. I was in my usual place, and they started asking about the different beers. A barrage for the poor barman who at that moment was alone behind the bar.

      (aside: Joanna, if you are reading this, thank you for those evenings. And everyone else, get your minds out of wherever they are, she was honestly one of the funniest people I ever met. And very married!)

      Anyway, they were asking what beer they should try. This was Ireland and mainstream American beer is merely rented.
      In the course of the conversation, as I explained my understanding of the beers and their various merits (and admitting the lack of love for some) our conversation moved on. One of them wanted a tattoo with an Irish word, the word for peace.

      Now I am sure you all know the dangers of getting a tattoo in a language you do not understand (I cannot help but think of Penny having ‘soup’ on her butt in Big Bang Theory). There is no way I would do that, so I had to ask what she had been told.

      She was told síocháin, which is fine. I remember not why but I ended up writing it for her in the old Irish script, with séimhús etc.

      I also cannot remember why (probably beer) I recited Mairtín Ó Dioreán’s wonderful poem ‘Faoiseamh a Gheobhadsa’. Faoiseamh translates, depending on your part of the country, as relief, peace of mind, or surcease. She loved it and had me write the whole poem out in the same script.

      The next night I was waiting for my bus home in my favourite sunshade, and in they come
      She proudly holds out her wrists. There is my writing (traced by the tattoo artist) , one on each wrist. A lady somewhere is branded with my lettering for the rest of her life, but at least I can honestly say I did not steer her wrong (she did check with the tattoo artist, I am glad to say). Síocháin on one, Faoiseamh on the other.

      Since then I have never mentioned anything of the nature in any pub. Part of me worries. I have nothing against tattoos so long as they are not deliberately offensive. But the thought that my letters are on that girl’s wrists for life actually does throw me.

  13. Conski

    Down in Cork telling some lads, that I got a message me kids’ GAA club that they’d have the Sam Maguire down in the club. I asked if he wanted to go down and see it and get a photo etc, He said “Naah, seen it load of times already in school. EVERY year”.

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