You can tick these off the list come Christmas Day…
The bigger the family gathering this Christmas, the more you’re likely to encounter at least half of the following. Are we right?
Time to find yourselves a notepad and play Irish family Christmas bingo. Or just sit back and enjoy the madness…
The Drunk Uncle – Look at him there. We’ll call him Gerry. Lovely crisp shirt as he arrives in a 11am, by 12.30 he is composed entirely of Roses wrappers and blotches of red wine, his face a lovely shade of pink and his glass never empty. Spends most of his time giving out about the pubs being closed on Christmas Day “in this day and age,” despite the fact that there’s no shortage of booze in the house. Yet.
The Teetotaller Aunt – She’s actually ten times worse than the Drunk Uncle. This is the long-suffering aunt who has never touched a drop and whose lips get more and more pursed with every passing glug. She spends most of her time tidying away plates, even as you’re eating from them, worrying about whether there’s enough kitchen roll in the house and praying to the Sacred Heart that Gerry doesn’t start into the whiskey before dinnertime. She’s long since earned the nickname ‘The Anti-Craic.’
The Flapping Mammy – Needs her annual glass of Guinness to get through the morning, she’s basting and peeling and cleaning and baking and roasting and mashing and doing all sorts of things to foods you’ve never heard of before anyone else has even got out of bed. God love her. You make a failed attempt to load the dishwasher but she damn near stabs you with a fork. “Stay the F**K out of my kitchen IT’S CHRISTMAS DAY!” she roars. You’re secretly delighted, as you can now watch The Karate Kid without feeling any guilt.
The Family Friends (who “won’t be staying long, now…”) – They only stopped in to drop off a bottle of Jameson and a box of Celebrations because you took care of their cat when they went to Lanzarote in August, but you can be guaranteed they’ll both be sat on the couch half cut six hours later, gnawing on one of the plastic triangular cheeses from the Trivial Pursuit box and half covered in chocolate roulade.
The Cousin (that nobody knows how to talk to) – You’ve never quite figured out how to talk to him because he doesn’t like football, has never seen GoodFellas and doesn’t drink because he ‘doesn’t like the taste.’ He’s a strange fish.
The Granny – She’s just delightful. She spends the whole day laughing at absolutely nothing, starting sentences that she will absolutely never finish and drinking her own body weight in glasses of stout. She’ll have a Bailey’s later on. Sure feck it. She’ll outlast us all.
The Estranged Auntie – A shadow descends. Quiet falls on the house. The good humour set off by Irish coffees at 11am takes a nosedive. The theme music from Jaws plays, as if from nowhere. A car pulls up in the driveway. The doorbell rings. The mother’s face drops. There are some awkward hugs and the offer of tea, but nobody wants her there. Nobody, under any circumstances, is to mention the words ‘will’ or ‘field’ or ‘farm’ or anything to do with probate. She’ll leave eventually.
The Hungover Brother – He surfaces at 3pm, stuffs his face with some Roses, makes a cup of tea, and goes back to bed. He’s the only one wearing slippers later on at the dinner table. The mother is disappointed, but says nothing.
The Younger Female Cousin (who’s all grown up now) – Careful now. Very, very careful now. Don’t laugh so hard at her jokes, she’s not that funny, and at no stage must you ask her to sit on your lap. She’s 22, and her boyfriend would f****ng destroy you.
The Older Female Cousin (who brings a new partner every year) – “Is this one the stockbroker?” “No she broke up with him years ago.” “Ah, so this is the lad who plays in the wedding band…” “Not at all. No, they split up in March.” “So who’s this fella?” “I don’t know. His name’s Dave anyway. They’re all called Dave. She’s considerate like that.” “Sound.”
The Lothario Uncle – You know the one. He hugs your mam for just that BIT too long. And he has a moustache. And a monocle. And smokes a cigarillo. And is the one who wants to play Twister when everyone else is eyeing up the Trivial Pursuit. His favourite film is Boogie Nights, and he’s the only one in the house who drinks brandy.
The Complete And Total Stranger – Everyone assumes he belongs to someone else in the room, but it turns out he was just out for a wander and thought yours was an open house. In fairness to him, he is somehow responsible for the second ham on the sideboard in the kitchen, and has offered to give you a lift back to Dublin on the 27th.
LISTEN: You Must Be Jokin’ with Aideen McQueen – Faith healers, Coolock craic and Gigging as Gaeilge
