Adrian Cush is from Donaghmore.
Mugsy is from Cookstown though.
My favourite place names from the Wee Six are Ahoghill, Cullybackey, Donemana (spelled by local Taigs such as Brian Dooher as Dunnamanagh) and Rasharkin. I donât even know where Rasharkin is, but it sounds very Protestant.
The sort of places youâd be afraid to venture into, and if you did, youâd do a quick scan, and get the fuck out of. And yet youâd like to stay around for a while if you could, just not be noticed, because your face screams âSouthern Catholicâ.
Thereâs something about Protestant NI that evokes smells in the same way that these dirt track places on British Lions tours to South Africa evoke smells, feelings.
You can nearly smell the champ and soda farls off these place names. You can hear the cries of âFred, thereâs no breadâ and âFairhill, itâs a big shappinâ centre in Ballehmenaâ. You can visualise the ads for Nambarrie tea bags and Richardsons fertilisers and Dale Farm ice cream and Stewartsâ supermarkets, and the hockey pitch where theyâd show highlights at 5:05pm on a Saturday on BBC1, and the faces of NI television luminaries such as Pamela Ballantyne, Julian Simmons, Rose Neill and Linda Bryans, and politicians such as Willie Ross, James Molyneaux, Lord John Kilclooney (is he still tweeting?) and of course the big man himself.
Thereâs something about the middle class Protestant commuter belt around Belfast that fascinates me. These places with their arches, and their outward properness masking deeper currents. Saintfield, Moira, Randalstown, Ballyclare, Comber, Newtânaaaurds.
My auntieâs partnerâs brother (who Iâve never met) lives in Newtânaaaurds. Heâs a big Dubs fan and comes down for the games. I wonder when heâs driving down does he pull in at Sprucefield to reveal his colours, and then pull in again on the way back to cover them up.
My oulâ fella once went to an Orange march for the hell of it. It was in 1969 and it was in Markethill. His oulâ fella, then in the latter stages of terminal cancer, inquired that night where he had been all day, and then when he found out, hit the roof. âYou fucking idiot, are you trying to get yourself killed?â The eyewitness report said the marchers had faces like burst tomatoes. But if you kept your head down, 'twas grand.