Review of GUBU Nation by Damian Corless (Merlin, 2004)

GUBU is short for ‘Grotesque, Unbelievable, Bizarre and Unprecedented’, an acronym coined by the journalist Conor Cruise O'Brien in reference to a phrase by Charles Haughey, the then Taoiseach, in 1982 when describing the situation in which a double-murderer was found hiding in the house of Irish Attorney General: ‘It was a bizarre happening, an unprecedented situation, a grotesque situation, an almost unbelievable mischance.’  The phrase entered the Irish lexicon to describe other such situations.  Strangely, GUBU Nation doesn’t bother to tell the reader the origins of this phrase or to set out the rationale for the book or provide any contextual material as to why the book was written and the extent to which Ireland is any more of a GUBU Nation than anywhere else.  Instead the book simply starts with the first of fifty or so Irish GUBU stories, some of which are GUBU stories, in that they are grotesque, unbelievable, bizarre and unprecedented, and some of which are simply ‘silly season’ stories.  Each story is a few pages long and sets out the basic context and facts.  The book itself constitutes what I would refer to as bathroom reading – relatively interesting and entertaining stories that each take a couple of minutes to read.  The stories themselves are well written and engaging and cover a broad spectrum of Irish life since independence.  Its hardly essential reading for those that want to understand Ireland and its people, but it’s informative and amusing and passes a few hours.

Drunk on power

John Charles McQuaid was rarely drunk on power, but he was seldom sober. The Archbishop was used to getting things his own way, but on an October day in 1955 over twenty thousand people turned out to let Ireland’s most powerful cleric know he was over the limit.

This fantastic quote is taken from GUBU Nation by Damian Corless a collection of short essays detailing some of the more ‘grotesque, unbelievable, bizarre and unprecedented’ things to have happened in Ireland’s post-independence history. This particular essay concerns a visit to Ireland by Yugoslavia’s soccer team to play a friendly match. Slighted by the fact that he was not consulted about the match (as he had been three years earlier) and no fan of ‘foreign games’, Archbishop McQuaid mobilised his influence to try and get the match cancelled. First, the Department of Justice told the Football Association of Ireland that they would need to seek permission for the players to enter the country (the first time they’d ever had to do such a thing). Second, the Army band withdrew their services. Third, the FAI were bombarded with public criticism from the forces of Catholicism and its various agencies. One of these groups even wrote to all the Yugoslav players to tell them that they were not welcome. Feeling the pressure, the national broadcaster withdrew its radio coverage. The Yugoslav team arrived at Dublin airport to be met by protestors at godless communism (although no such protest met a Russian delegation that had arrived in Ireland a month previously). The day before the match the Irish trainer withdrew from the game under pressure. The game went ahead and Ireland lost 4-1. McQuaid’s power is legendary and it is said that he got to read and edit all legislation before it was seen by most of the cabinet, let alone the Dail (the Irish parliament). Drunk on power indeed.