Posted by fústar in 
The “recession chicâ€? juggernaut of journalistic puke has no doubt inspired hacks to spew forth acres of “contentâ€? detailing “ourâ€? renewed love affair with public libraries. Once the preserve of the old, the milky, and the mad – these recession busting spaces are now thrillingly hip again…or something.
If so, then consider me hipped up to the nines, as I spent the better part of last Friday afternoon scrolling through reams of eye-destroying microfilm at Limerick City Library (all in the name of “researching� a potential article). Sharing the microfilmy room with me were an elderly lady who offered me a mint (and seemed incredulous and furious when I politely refused) and the ubiquitous smelly, obsessive, local history buff (male, of course) in a Christmas geansai. A less “hip� environment you'd search forlornly to find.
He (Mr. Local History Fella) also produced a supply of mints, which he duly offered to share. I (defensively and warily) declined again, though by this time my mint-refusing resolve was beginning to waver. Such is the coercive power of peer pressure.
The upshot of this mint-offering/refusing to and fro was that I spent more time on matters of confectionery etiquette than I'd have anticipated and ended up coming away empty-handed. Well, not quite. I did find the below gem. One of 1974′s stand-out moments…if you lived in Limerick.
The man who would, many years later, become a treasured, knighted, national UK institution (and monument to cuddly, ever so slightly naughty, twee wit) was, even 35 years ago, somewhat defensive about his Irish bona fides.
“I WAS born in Limerick. I WAS!!�1
In fairness to Sir. Terrence, I think it's unlikely (unless he imposed paranoid levels of control over his own career) that he dictated the content of his speech bubble to HyperSales' ad-men. Has anyone, I wonder, ever sued creators of a speech bubbled photo for grossly misrepresenting their thoughts and feelings? Private Eye and Phoenix do it all the time in the name of cheap satire. And the front cover of Match! routinely heaves with excited (mildly inflammatory and “dissing�) bubbles issuing from footballer's mouth's.
Ronaldo: “I'm better than you, Torres!!�
Torres: “Tu madre! I am totally the best, no?�
Fat Frank Lampard: “You're both wrong, lads, I'm more very good at football than you two!!�2
Not that Wogan would, I don't think, have necessarily been that upset about his Limerickian origins being restated in bubble form. His issue might, instead, have been with the implication that his place of birth was the only reason why anyone would turn out to see him cut the ribbon on (the now long gone) HyperSales. Speaking of which, a bit more microfilmic scrolling revealed the following.
Girls' pipe bands. Miss Limerick. Gold scissors. A throng turning out to bask both in Wogan's celebrity glow and HyperSales' exotic “American� consumer promise. Ah, Limerick of the 70s! How I miss you – kinda.
So like Sir Terrence, you too were born in Limerick?
Could it have been the horrible truth that the oldy wierdy people in the microfiche room were trying to push the mints on you for the most obvious reason we push mints on our fellow man? To protect themselves from your less than fresh breath?
Born, raised, departed, and currently back in the ‘hood. Me Ma’s gang are Limerick to the core (for many generations) too.
And no, it was not a breath issue. It merely reflects the obsessive devotion to “sucky sweets” that the Ireland’s Own reading demographic have. They never leave home without ‘em (or tissues) and can’t understand how deranged someone would have to be to turn one down.
I’ve been going to libraries for years, and nobody ever offered me a mint (even when my hangover-strengthened breath was yellowing the paper of whatever book I was reading). Perhaps the mint bearers are offering you a sweet which opens your mind to a Harry Potter style fantasy world (or perhaps, to borrow an old Billy Connolly line, after you’ve swallowed said mint they grin delightedly and say: “That mint’s been up me bum…”)
They were definitely trying to recruit me for something. Young-ish blood to reinvigorate their campaigns. Not sure if Murray Mints make you more open to suggestion, but better safe than sorry.
You said no to a Murray Mint? Murray Mints are lovely.
They’re not lovely. They’re creepy and beloved of creepy nuns.