Trying to understand Brendan Behan's Dublinese

franc 91

This is taken from one of his plays (unfortunately I don't know which one) I have been asked on another forum to help someone who is attempting to translate it into French. I can understand it in a general kind of a way, but to translate it you have to be precise. As you have kindly offered to help me (and finding real Dubliners who willing to explain their language isn't easy) here's this - Little Seamas keeps on being interrupted by his family when he's telling a story (of course there's much playing on words, which is even more difficult to give an idea of in French)
'Go ahead Shay. Carry on with the coffin, the corpse can walk'

P. Breathnach

That's not a language matter. It's written in Standard English, and the words do not have any special Dublin connotations.

It's humour.

slowburner

I agree that the language is standard, but that surreal sense of humour is uniquely Dublin. Maybe unique to that era in Dublin too?

See Flann O'Brien.

“Descartes spent far too much time in bed subject to the persistent hallucination that he was thinking. You are not free from a similar disorder.”
― The Dalkey Archive. 1964.

P. Breathnach

slowburner wrote: »

... See Flann O'Brien....

As an example of a Dublin humourist? That's surreal.

slowburner

P. Breathnach wrote: »

As an example of a Dublin humourist? That's surreal.

How do you mean?

P. Breathnach

slowburner wrote: »

How do you mean?

He was from Strabane.

slowburner

Yes but he lived and worked in Dublin from 1935 until his death in 1966.

P. Breathnach

We never accepted him as one of us: a runner, he was. Especially when he was obnoxious in drink, which was not a rare thing.

franc 91

Well before you get in a fight about who's from Dublin or not, would you have a look at this? (pity me trying to put it into another language ie French)
Brendan Behan: two neighbours went to the pub to take some brandy for the old woman who is feeling bad. They talk at the bar and one says:
"sure you couldn't keep up a fight, and we going back to the wake practically"
Are they thinking that if they don't leave soon, by the time they'll get back the old lady will be dead? Apparently they were about to have a fight, which would have been time-consuming I suppose.

slowburner

P. Breathnach wrote: »

We never accepted him as one of us: a runner, he was. Especially when he was obnoxious in drink, which was not a rare thing.

Was it so with Paddy Kavanagh? I heard that if he was on one side of Baggot street, you'd be better off on the other.

franc 91 wrote: »

Well before you get in a fight about who's from Dublin or not, would you have a look at this? (pity me trying to put it into another language ie French)
Brendan Behan: two neighbours went to the pub to take some brandy for the old woman who is feeling bad. They talk at the bar and one says:
"sure you couldn't keep up a fight, and we going back to the wake practically"
Are they thinking that if they don't leave soon, by the time they'll get back the old lady will be dead? Apparently they were about to have a fight, which would have been time-consuming I suppose.

It's just a way of saying that it would be inconsiderate to arrive at a wake in the middle of a row.

P. Breathnach

slowburner wrote: »

Was it so with Paddy Kavanagh? I heard that if he was on one side of Baggot street, you'd be better off on the other.

Kavanagh was one contrary hoor of a man (but, as with Flann O'Brien, an admirable writer).

It's just a way of saying that it would be inconsiderate to arrive at a wake in the middle of a row.

But containing a nugget of Gaelicism: "and we going back". Pure Irish syntax. And not very Dublin as usage - you would be more likely to find it in places like Galway or Kerry, where the Irish language survived much longer. Or in Synge's plays as in "and I walking from Brittas to the Aughrim fair" (In the Shadow of the Glen).

Beahan spoke Irish fairly well.

slowburner

P. Breathnach wrote: »

Kavanagh was one contrary hoor of a man (but, as with Flann O'Brien, an admirable writer).

But containing a nugget of Gaelicism: "and we going back". Pure Irish syntax. And not very Dublin as usage - you would be more likely to find it in places like Galway or Kerry, where the Irish language survived much longer. Or in Synge's plays as in "and I walking from Brittas to the Aughrim fair" (In the Shadow of the Glen).

Beahan spoke Irish fairly well.

I haven't heard contrary used like that for a long time - you'd best explain it to franc 91, or the translation of Behan's Dublinese will turn oriental.

franc 91

Here's another line -
Chris is talking about her husband and her neighbour who were about to fight and consequently making an old neighbour feel bad.
As they've gone to fetch the old lady some brandy, Chris tells her
"you'll be alright. It was them with their shouting and acting the tin jinnet"

franc 91

a contrary hoor - I can understand, but what's a runner?

slowburner

franc 91 wrote: »

a contrary hoor - I can understand, but what's a runner?

Actually, I was going to take issue with PB on that (for spite).
Down here in deepest Wicklow, they call people like me runners - I ran from the city.
I never heard it applied to migrants in the opposite direction.

By the way, the pronunciation of contrary, in the Dublin idiom, is contrairy.

slowburner

franc 91 wrote: »

Here's another line -
Chris is talking about her husband and her neighbour who were about to fight and consequently making an old neighbour feel bad.
As they've gone to fetch the old lady some brandy, Chris tells her
"you'll be alright. It was them with their shouting and acting the tin jinnet"

I'm not certain, but a tin jinnet might be a corruption of a 'Jinny'.
A Jinny was a stationary engine used to let tucks down or draw them up ramps in mines and quarries.

Something tells me though, that it related to horse and cart terminology. A tin jinnet might have been a reference to an early car, which would have been rattly on Dublin's streets.
Either way the metaphor refers to some form of erratic, exaggerated motion.

P. Breathnach

slowburner wrote: »

Actually, I was going to take issue with PB on that (for spite).
Down here in deepest Wicklow, they call people like me runners - I ran from the city.
I never heard it applied to migrants in the opposite direction.

I agree that the term is more used outside Dublin. It means much the same as "blow-in".

In Dublin, everybody who hails from other parts of Ireland is likely to be referred to as a culchie.

By the way, the pronunciation of contrary, in the Dublin idiom, is contrairy.

Possibly conthrairy.

slowburner

P. Breathnach wrote: »

I agree that the term is more used outside Dublin. It means much the same as "blow-in".

In Dublin, everybody who hails from other parts of Ireland is likely to be referred to as a culchie.

Possibly conthrairy.

In Dublin, everybody hails from another part of Ireland.

P. Breathnach

slowburner wrote: »

...
Something tells me though, that it related to horse and cart terminology. A tin jinnet might have been a reference to an early car, which would have been rattly on Dublin's streets.
Either way the metaphor refers to some form of erratic, exaggerated motion.

I think jinnet is a variant of jennet, a cross between a horse and donkey. I have heard the word used figuratively to describe somebody who is a bit contrary or cantankerous. Tin might simply be the Dublin pronunciation of thin.

P. Breathnach

slowburner wrote: »

In Dublin, everybody hails from another part of Ireland.

Except for Jacks.

They have dark-skinned culchies now, and brown- and yellow-skinned ones. And fair-skinned ones who speak Polish or Lithuanian or Bulgarian.

Culchies, all of them.

slowburner

P. Breathnach wrote: »

Except for Jacks.

They have dark-skinned culchies now, and brown- and yellow-skinned ones. And fair-skinned ones who speak Polish or Lithuanian or Bulgarian.

Culchies, all of them.

The jacks.
A multi-cultural culchie flushing.

franc 91

Actually I have found this -
http://www.bbc.co.uk/northernireland/voices/atilazed/j.shtml
a jinnet/genet - a fool or annoying person, from Genet a barren donkey/pony cross and there's also a Jerusalem two-stroke (but this is from Fermanagh)

conor.hogan.2

P. Breathnach wrote: »

In Dublin, everybody who hails from other parts of Ireland is likely to be referred to as a culchie.

So a massive chunk of Dublin then?

franc 91

He ate a child's leg through a chair - does this mean that he ate a sandwich? or that he was more than hungry? or that he always had a huge appetite? Apparently there's another Dublin expression that means the same but expressed in stronger language - does anyone know it?

_blank_

franc 91 wrote: »

He ate a child's leg through a chair - does this mean that he ate a sandwich? or that he was more than hungry? or that he always had a huge appetite? Apparently there's another Dublin expression that means the same but expressed in stronger language - does anyone know it?

he'd ate the arse of a child through the bars of a cot.

It means someone is very, very hungry.

He's so hungry he'd ate the balls off a low flying duck.

He's so hungry he'd eat the lamb of jaysis.

"jinnet" means a bit of a fool, a bold child in school, a bit of a messer. Not up to anything too malicious.

franc 91

Thanks a lot for that - but why would they say a tin jinnet? - should that be 'thin' or 'tin'? and would that make it worse than just saying a jinnet?

franc 91

Here's another one - I understand that it's a reference to Micheàl Mac Liammoir otherwise known as Alfred Willmore (an English-born actor, writer, poet and painter born in 1899 and who died in 1978) whose portrait appeared on postage stamps.
A neighbour is telling one of the characters of her last visit to the butcher's and how surprised she was by the ugly look of the pig's cheeks. The butcher answers -"what do you want for to shillings....Mee-hawl Mac Lillimore" Does anyone know anymore about that?

_blank_

franc 91 wrote: »

what do you want for two shillings....Mee-hawl Mac Lillimore" Does anyone know anymore about that?

There's a typo in your post I think

I'll break it down

"These cheeks are ugly"
"What do you want for two shillings"

Means; what do you expect to get for only 2 shillings?, with the implication that less ugly pigs cheeks should be more expensive, and the buyer shouldn't expect top quality goods for low prices.

Mee-hawl Mac Lillimore

Mee-Hawl is the phonetic rendering of the Irish Gaelic name Micheàl (obviously enough, it's english counterpart is Michael).

Mac Lillimore is a mispronounciation of the surname, probably in a sarcastic way.

Now, taken in full context, knowing that Micheàl Mac Liammoir appeared on postage stamps, and was a famous actor, we can assume that he may have been somewhat good looking.

So.

"The pigs cheeks are ugly"

"What do you expect to get for something that costs two shillings? Something beautiful?"

or

"What do you expect for two shillings? Something that resembles [famous person reknowned for being good looking]?

slowburner

franc 91 wrote: »

Here's another one - I understand that it's a reference to Micheàl Mac Liammoir otherwise known as Alfred Willmore (an English-born actor, writer, poet and painter born in 1899 and who died in 1978) whose portrait appeared on postage stamps.
A neighbour is telling one of the characters of her last visit to the butcher's and how surprised she was by the ugly look of the pig's cheeks. The butcher answers -"what do you want for to shillings....Mee-hawl Mac Lillimore" Does anyone know anymore about that?

Mac Liammóir had jowls.
All the butcher is saying is that the woman's expectations are too lofty for someone who can only afford a coarser cut like pigs' cheeks.


(Edit: Des explains all above)

franc 91

Go raibh maith agaibh - Am I right in thinking that these are extracts from 'Moving Out' ?
Now what does this mean?

Mrs Carmody is pretending to be fainting so that her two neighbours don't start fighting. Those two men accept to go and fetch her a bottle of brandy and in the end she seems to recover a bit and says -
'Ohhh! It was excitement. I'm gone for me chips. Ohhh!