This may come as a surprise to some of our readers – but there's actually a whole world out there beyond the Dublin border.
Out there, things are different. Very different.
And we love it.
Having a party? He'll be there. Known to audition for The Voice a few times, but to no avail. Relatively talented and he'll keep the party vibe going until the early hours, in fairness.
Usually hailing from the same family, these women know the ins-and-outs of the village, and will often know what you're thinking before you think it.
You can be sure they saw you smoking that cigarette aged 15 out your back garden, and you can be even more sure that they'll never let you forget it.
Often-times, there's more drama offstage than onstage with these kinds due to a cocktail of inflated egos and lewd extroverts. Expect talk of 'non-dairy diets' and Moulin Rouge being a 'cinematic experience'.
All things to all people. As known to scream 'Watch your house!' at a local minor GAA match, as to MC the questions at the weekly table quiz.
May also be found doling out the bread in Mass.
The main reason people still go to Mass. Father Jim loves a good Bob Dylan song as well as any of yer standard hymns.
The singing priest's local fan club. On entrance, you're usually met with the glaring eye of The Lord, then the sweet sound of mammy voices.
The office itself smells like paper and shame.
This cultural landmark, and completely harmless individual can be either of the male or female variety and is generally entirely incomprehensible to all around him/her.
Usually found walking everywhere or on his/her perch in the village – not too far from the pub.
Usually bound by some sort of relative/in-law/friendship at one time or another, and have now upped and gone their separate ways. Everyone in the village is obligated truly, madly and deeply to one or the other.
Both only serve Guinness.
This could range from anything from the Protestant church to the haunted graveyard.
Once these landmarks have been mentioned, the second step can also range from anything from 'the bendy crossroads' to 'the road the women walk on'.
The 'Head of the Village' will tell you that it's about the town hero who died for our benefit, but really that's just to cover his arse.
Hoodlums will vandalise it every Halloween, only to be restored back to life once more by...
These fiends are the town badasses, who take care of the place when no one else does. Usually seen at County Council meetings, driving around on ride-on lawnmowers, or simply picking up wrappers on the streets after the local secondary school's lunchtime.
Heroes.
Can be seen driving up and down the town quite blatantly on his phone, hovering outside underage GAA discos re-assuring all the mums, or receiving free pints from the local publican an hour into a lock-in.
Has never given out either a ticket or penalty points in his lifetime, and may not necessarily hold a valid passport.
Upon curiously bringing this up in your local tavern, be wary that you will receive 17 different versions of the same story according to 17 different sources, each more meticulous than the last.
Note: each version could involve anything from the stealing of a ginnet donkey to denying the supremacy of a local butcher. You've been warned.
Small towns of Ireland, don't ever change...
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