Gurrier

Some weeks ago I was a victim of crime within 150 yards of the gates of Leinster House. I was approached or set upon by a little gurrier with a syringe. It is not a pleasant experience to have someone push a syringe against one's face at 12.30 a.m. on the streets of Dublin, particularly when one is within a stone's throw of the seat of Administration.

The Garda sergeant wanted to know the distinction between a Gouger and a Gurrier. Mr. Howard, who was a true-blue Dubliner, supplied the answer: "A Gurrier is a little man cut short, a mickey dazzler. He cuts a dash among the girls and is always willing and able to strike a blow for a pal. But our Gurrier, unlike the Gouger, never gets into trouble with the police."

She said the gentleman in question was nothing but a gurrier. She went into details over his garb and his accent. He wore a blazer with brass buttons and his trousers were gray flannel. He was the sporting type. His accent she said had to be heard to be believed, likewise his impertinence. She called him a pup. Then she said gurrier. Then she reverted to pup.

People from other parts of Ireland refer to Dubliners as Jackeens or Gurriers. Jackeen in the city always meant a cunning, loudmouthed, ignorant youth: while Gurrier was a term of approbation. In the Thirties and Forties to be a Great Little Gurrier was to be a bosom friend, a fine fellow, a taproom companion: but today it has been debased and is the equivalent of a bowsey or a gouger.

The old man told me that James Joyce was nothing but a dirty little pup who had never done a decent day's work in his life, a dirty little gurrier who had run Ireland down for money; these were the actual words he used. James Joyce had "run Ireland down for money," the old man said, "and he had told dirty lies about Irish history."

Gentleman Johnny [Johnny Carey], as he was known in England and at home, was clearly no gurrier. A magnificent footballer, he was a man of exceptional character, […]