My mother just got back from Ireland. She went with a bunch of her friends for five days. In the short conversation we were able to have (I was at work), she told me how beautiful it is and how cool it was to be in the country her grandmother came from. And, yes, my 60-something year old mother and her 60-something year old friends went on a pub crawl. She likes Guinness. In a pint. At the pub. Learning Irish drinking songs. Good for her!
She then asks me, “Do you know what pogue mahone means?” giggle giggle
“Yeah, Ma, it means kiss my ass.”
“How do you know this?!” disappointment that she couldn’t catch me with a Gaelic curse word
“Ma, I went to college to learn to curse in six languages.”
Really, one of my favorite bands is The Pogues. How could I not know what pogue mahone means?
If I were to be famous I could go on Inside the Actor’s Studio. James Lipton would ask me, “What is your favorite swear word?” I would immediately declare, “Pogue Mahone!”
Ah, Ireland. Not only is the land beautiful but so are the curse words.