From the Tagesspiegel (and, OK, its talking about builders)
“Die Iren, sehr britisch wirkend, hätten sich von ihm die Bühnen zeigen lassen.”

It is hard for outsiders to know the shibboleths of a society.

I tend not to have too high an expectation of outer Europeans in this regard; and to make allowances for most Europeans.

I was once asked by a Yugoslav factory worker in Germany whether Ireland was a Muslim country…

As far as I recall, the story goes as follows. Domhnall is working on a site somewhere in rural England. Most of the others in the hut are Galwaymen.

But there is one bewildered Geordie among them.
“Let’s get it straight, now,” ar seisean, agus dreach anbhuartha ar a éadan ag camchúrsaí polaitíochta na hÉireann, “There’s Orangemen and Nationalists and Unionists and the A.O.H. Well then, whose this other crowd they call the Culchies?”

(Jackeen mise dála an scéil). And also an objector. But I thought it best to keep the explanation neutral.

PS. Thanks for the 10 mins – (Didn’t realise you honestly thought I was that slow!), but it’s ok, I’ll just keep adding on till my times up. He He

Erik-with-a-K was referring to us travelling from Ireland to “mainland Britain”. As for the tribalism Aonghus mentions*, we were shocked at his lack of geo-political knowledge. He believed Ireland to be part of the UK. Even if we still were part, why would we travel to another country within that empire to celebrate our own country’s national holiday?** Furthermore, he was also implying that the island of Ireland was so devoid of distractions that we’d have to go elsewhere to find a way to celebrate.

One would expect someone at executive-level to do a little prior research on the country they were being seconded to for two years.

*I am very firmly of the Irish tribe and one of the “objectors”.
**Well, our politicians do. Last year all but one government minister remained in the country. The rest availed of paid-for trips to watch young girls, with bad hair and garish costumes, dance on the streets of New York and elsewhere. All in the name of promoting Ireland, of course.

Only they can’t go, because the rebels are too close to the airport….

Sorry Primal – don’t mind us talking amongst ourselves

We had this couple that worked there that at any time of any given day you could catch them copulating in your office if they thought you might be at a long lunch, on the back staircase, the roof (if the weather was nice of course) and I once passed by them appreciating each other on the hood of her car one late Friday evening of overtime as I passed by. I wished them a good weekend as I brushed passed on my way to my truck. They happily waved at me and she asked me to drop by Saturday night for their band practice as their regular sound man…[pause: sounds of ecstatic pleasure from her]…had come up missing again. I think they lived happily ever after but you never know these days.

We had a rutabaga launcher. Put together by the engineering department, building maintenance department and myself that consisted of the top and bottom of a barbecue grill sized propane tank welded together with an 18″ stainless steel barrel that pointed straight up from the firing chamber with 1″ thick walls and an inside bore diameter of 5″. It was charged with a potent mixture of oxygen and acetylene.

And the hierarchy had their offices located in a office trailer parked out back which is where we did our first test fire.

We rammed a good size rutabaga home, charged up the firing chamber and touched her off (we were located at least 60 ft from said trailer). Exactly 2 minutes and 47 seconds later our vegetable based projectile came screaming out of the sky and through the middle of the roof of the office trailer, continuing through the floor into the ground, taking pieces of the copier with it. Much later, when the new edition was put on and the tailor hauled away, we found the remains of our poor tuber driven nearly 3 feet into the ground. We lovingly filled in the hole it created with a bit of topsoil. Eventually it sprouted.

Just one story for another…