Mathematician's 'Langers & Lashes' Decodes Cork Slang
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- Des MacHale, an 80-year-old University College Cork emeritus professor of mathematics originally from County Mayo, authored 'Langers & Lashes: A Compendium of Cork Slang,' which bills itself as the most comprehensive collection of crude, playful and ingenious wordplay from Ireland's second city.
- MacHale drew on two earlier out-of-print books about Cork slang and conversations with Cork residents, noting that 'nearly everybody you meet has got a new word' and that women tend to remember and use the terms better than men.
- Mercier Press added explanatory notes to entries reflecting 'historical context and outdated social views,' stating that inclusion does not imply endorsement and aiming to let readers 'embrace the city's renowned wit while rejecting harmful stereotypes.'
- The compendium catalogs Cork coinages around sex, drink and religion: 'langer' can mean idiot, drunkenness or penis; 'lash' is an attractive woman; 'immaculate conception' describes drinkers dodging their round; 'belly bachelor' is someone who cultivates friendships for free meals; and 'raise the froth' means to urinate copiously.
- MacHale argues Cork slang is 'much more extensive' than Dublin, Belfast or Galway slang and that 'most dictionaries avoid' the area despite it being 'a very real phenomenon of language that hasn't been taken terribly seriously until now.'
- MacHale's Cork credentials are bolstered by five Cork-born children, including actor Dominic MacHale, who plays Sergeant Healy in the BBC sitcom Young Offenders.
- The term 'tosser,' defined in the compendium as a synonym for 'langer,' entered the official Dáil record this week when opposition leader Mary Lou McDonald used it during a clash with taoiseach Micheál Martin.
Why it matters: The book fills a gap MacHale himself flags — that most dictionaries skip slang entirely — by codifying Cork's oral lexicon in a single reference work. The Mercier disclaimer shows a publisher hedging against accusations of endorsing dated stereotypes while still preserving them as cultural artefacts. For Cork speakers, the volume formalises a vernacular that has lived only in pubs and kitchens; for outsiders, it offers an unusual dictionary from an unlikely chronicler — an 80-year-old puzzle-book author who calls himself 'still a blow-in' after 55 years in the city.
