James Kelly from Kerry moves to Dublin and then moves back again.

James lived in rural Kerry all his life.

He hated it. It was boring. The people were stupid. He wanted to move far away, to find the hustle and bustle of city life.

So got a job in Dublin. The population density of Kerry is 30 people per square kilometer. In Dublin it’s 4,588. He has never seen so many people waiting at a light to cross the road. People, people, people; melding together all as different faces of the same superbeing named the Greater Dublin Metropolitan Area. Sometimes he felt like he was suffocating.

His job was well paid. He could afford trendy clothes. He went to all the trendy bars. He moved in trendy circles. Gone were his days of knackerdrinking beside a bus stop with his school friends. James was now sipping cocktails in a bar on Camden Street with his cool friends. His culchie mannerisms were both alien and enamouring to the Dublinese. The prospect of people didn’t petrify him as it once did.

One night, at the bar the call rang out: “James Kelly!”. James recognised the voice instantly – who could forget Seamus Monaghan, from Kerry?  Who could erase the razor assault his voice led on the ear? Who could banish the spectre of his voice from James’ dreams?

.James ducked his head ostrichly, to little effect. Seamus wrapped his arm around James’ neck as if they had gone through a Vietnamese POW camp together. He then started speaking in his stupid Kerry way. “Sure jaysus Dublin is gas like.” The Dublinese burst their holes laughing, as if this were the punchline of a well crafted monologue and not the second thing they ever heard him say. James’ annoyance turned to horror. The Dublinese loved Seamus even more than they had loved James.

“Jaysus James this fella is high-layer-ious. Totes hilare altogether. Where were you keeping this goy? Focking hell, loike.” Ivor-Jack McEaspaig-Staunton said through an ear-to-ear grin, tears streaming down his face, getting caught in his IPA-stained handlebar moustache. James’ blood began to boil. How could they love Seamus’ stupid Kerry ways? What was he, chopped liver?

The penny dropped. The Dublinese didn’t like James because he was cool and Dublin like them. They liked him because he was stupid and Kerry. They liked Seamus ten times more than they liked James because Seamus was ten times more stupid and ten times more Kerry than James could ever hope, wish or want to be.

After that night the trendy people, pubs and apparel began to lose their appeal. Every day as James took the Luas to work, the lights of Dublin faded more and more. The home fires of Kerry burned brighter than ever before.

James quit his job and left. He lived Kerry in poverty and relative happiness, not judging his fellow Kerryfolk by their intelligence or Kerryocity, because that’s what stupid Dublin people do. He never set foot in the province of Leinster ever again, on general principle.



James Kelly from Kerry moves to Dublin and then moves back again.