If Des MacHale had to nominate a favourite from the lexicon of insulting and inexplicable terms that comprise Cork slang, it would have to be “langer”.
Depending on tone and context it can mean idiot, drunkenness or penis, a versatility that baffles outsiders and further enhances the word’s value. “Langer is an absolutely beautiful word. I’m very fond of it,” says MacHale.
Hence its inclusion in the title of his new book, Langers & Lashes: A Compendium of Cork Slang, which bills itself as the most comprehensive collection of the crude, playful, savage and ingenious wordplay that inflects speech in Ireland’s second city.
“It’s an extraordinarily rich area that most dictionaries avoid,” MacHale says. “It’s a very real phenomenon of language that hasn’t been taken terribly seriously until now.”
In a foreword, the publisher, Mercier, said it had added explanatory notes to highlight some terms’ “historical context and outdated social views” and that inclusion did not imply endorsement. “By retaining these terms as artefacts of the past, we aim to encourage contemporary Cork speakers to embrace the city’s renowned wit while rejecting harmful stereotypes.”
Sex, drink and religion are common motifs. A “premature ejaculator” – a term attributed to the late Cork actor and comedian, Niall Tóibín – is a fellow who must go to the gents after drinking only three pints. “Immaculate conception” describes drinkers who dodge paying their round. “Lash” is an attractive woman.
Cork – known in Ireland as the rebel county and also the people’s republic of Cork – uses local slang more than other parts of the island, says MacHale. “Cork slang is very different from Dublin slang, and from Belfast, and from Galway. It’s much more extensive.”
MacHale is an unlikely chronicler. The 80-year-old academic is from County Mayo and his background is not language but mathematics. “I’ve been here for about 55 years so I’m still regarded as a blow-in.”
The University College Cork emeritus professor has authored dozens of books on puzzles and humour, including a book of Kerryman jokes that continues to sell 50 years after it was first published. “A mathematician likes to collect, classify and put things together,” MacHale explained.
His Cork slang credentials are bolstered by having five Cork-born children, including the actor Dominic MacHale, who plays Sergeant Healy in the BBC sitcom Young Offenders, which is about hapless delinquents.
For the compendium MacHale drew on two earlier books about Cork slang, which are no longer in print, and conversations with Cork residents. “Nearly everybody you meet has got a new word,” he says. “I’m not sure why but women seem to be a lot better at remembering the words and using them than men.”
Under A, there is “all-a-bah”, a warning you give when someone is about to vomit. A person who is “all Gillette” is dolled-up.
Brussels sprouts are “balls of the cabbage”. To be ill is to feel “like a small hospital” or to be “barely above ground”. A “wooden suit” is a coffin. “Bazz” is female pubic hair, not to be confused with “bazzer”, a cheap, self-administered haircut, or “bozzer”, an attractive person.
To “be doggy wide” is to be very careful. A “belly bachelor” is an opportunist who cultivates friendships for free meals. To tell someone to get lost, you say: “bite the back of me bollix”.
To “lob the gob” is to try to kiss someone. A “martyr for the quare thing” is someone with a strong libido. To “fertilise the stars” is to urinate in a field and to “raise the froth” is to urinate copiously.
A “dullamoo” – derived from ag dul amú, Irish for getting lost – is an unreliable person and a “gedgemeen” is a small, unhappy person. Not all the terms were necessarily coined in Cork but are commonly heard there, said MacHale.
“Tosser” – defined as a synonym for “langer” – made a controversial appearance in parliament this week. During a clash with the taoiseach, Micheál Martin, the opposition leader, Mary Lou McDonald, said: “Jesus, he really is a tosser,” a remark that entered the official Dáil record.
