Showing posts with label English bastards. Show all posts
Showing posts with label English bastards. Show all posts
Sunday, 12 August 2007
Irish Humour, the Divine Will & a Foreign Tongue
The Irish humour is actually the utmost seriousness transmogrified by the unnatural imposition of a foreign tongue upon the native consciousness. Very noble and profound thoughts bubble up from deep within the Celtic sap, but once they pass through the filter of the English tongue(said to be located somewhere within the brain) a strange alchemical altering of meaning takes place which some have argued is a manifestation of the Divine Will over which the human protagonist has little control. This explains why the great Irish writers like Swift, Wilde, Joyce, Flann O Brien and even that miserable bastard Beckett tend to be the great humourists of the English language. Beckett incidentally sets out to be the incarnation of pessimism, but to his chagrin, he found this was often transformed into something more absurd & contrary to his intent. He tried writing in French to escape this sabotaging of his desire by the Divine Will, but, of course, not understanding the root cause, he was merely adding another layer to the problem.
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