The Irish Curse

All you American ladies out there know what I am talking about.

Last night, with the Chameleon and the Hobo, over salad in Cafe Bar Deli on Grafton Street, I learned a disturbing fact. In a buoyant mood due to a flirty waitress, the Chameleon and I began to tell the Hobo of how American girls love us Irish guys due to our accents and our gregarious demeanour.

Of course, not all Irish guys are gregarious, and not all American girls love us, but we were talking in generalisations.

The Hobo assented, then landed the bombshell.

In America, there is widespread belief in the "Irish curse" - anatomically, Irish guys tend to be quantitatively inferior.

I had heard of no such thing, and neither had the Chameleon. Incensed, he began to speak of correctional ads in the New York Times. The Hobo was adamant, informing us that she gets asked about it sometimes when home on holidays.

Naturally, we inquired about her response to such questions. Claiming she was not in a position to answer, when pressed, she did admit to hearing complaints from many of her American friends.

This morning, I researched the topic on the Internet. The Hobo's claim held up. Worse still, it comes with a large amount of apocryphal evidence. Not exactly scientific, admittedly, but enough to raise questions.

In the past, this issue has concerned me. I cannot be sure, but I believe I fall within normal parameters. In any case, worrying about it is a complete waste of time. The Chameleon did not take my demure approach. I cannot help but think that he will suffer for his reaction. The Hobo had a wicked and amused smile as she patiently listened to his rant.

This will come back to haunt him.

One thing does concern me. One of my fondest memories of New York was a night out with the Author, who I holidayed with, and the Groom, a friend from home. Deciding to drink to mark the occasion, I spent a good portion of the evening talking animatedly to every American girl I could find.

I thought I was doing great. I had enough of my wits about me to notice that the girls found me hilarious. I would yabber on about everything, going from topics like the upcoming 2004 US Presidential Election, to the price of alcohol, to excellent films currently on release in the space of about 40 seconds.

I do not remember much about any of the girls I spoke to, other than they spent most of the time laughing. They quite clearly had never experienced anything like it before.

I thought this was due to my uniquely novel (to them) approach of combining an incredibly intoxicated demeanour with a funny and engagingly charismatic conversational line.

Alas, what if it was because "that Irish guy talked a lot for someone with a small dick?"