Guide to Social Climbing: Reggie from the Blackrock Road shares his wisdom
Reggie chats to Pat Fitzpatrick about his new book. Picture: Eddie O'Hare
I was down in Ballymaloe House recently (you couldn’t afford it) with a very open-minded woman from Copenhagen. A family of four were seated at the table next to us - he’s a property developer from East Cork, a price-of-everything value-of-nothing kind of gowl, you know the type. The waiter came down and he ordered turbot, pronouncing it turbitt. Sorry now, but that’s straight out of the Ronan O’Gara school of French. The correct pronunciation is tur-bow, it came as a shock to my lady friend. There is no avoiding these new money types, so I decided to write a book to show them how to behave in polite society. (FYI, the open-minded woman stayed the night, but it was touch and go there for a while).
100 per cent. My editor did a final pass on the text and removed any word with more than two syllables, so it’s effective for people in Passage West. It even works for people in Kanturk who can read, so that’s a boost of both of them. You see, social status isn’t about money or accidents of birth, it’s about appearances. It’s not fake it UNTIL you make it. The minute you fake it, you’ve made it.
Ah stop. Of course not. The top table of Irish society is occupied exclusively by people like myself and my friends on the Blackrock Road. That’s a closed shop, which is just as well for everyone, because ye would only be making fools of yourselves, even if you followed my book to the letter. What’s on offer here is access to the Rung Two of Irish society. There is nothing stopping a nail-bar owner in Macroom from standing shoulder to shoulder with a dentist on the Douglas Road.
Yes, this is good for the Norries.
There are limits to everything.
I start by establishing my credentials. My family is proper old money; in fact, our money is so old it has pictures of Julius Caesar on it. Then I lay out the path to effective social climbing in 26 simple steps.
Not really, I’d prefer if you bought the book, the proceeds are going to a good cause, I’m in the market for a submarine. But I suppose I can’t leave you with nothing. (Which is all you have I’d say, because you’re only a journalist.) The first step teaches people how to ‘Date Up’. I was entertaining a very attractive woman from Schull recently in my in my €6.8 million mansion on the Blackrock Road. We were standing near by incredible drinks cabinet, I said ‘What would you like?’ She said, ‘Sex on the Beach’. I said, there’s no way I’m driving to Fountainstown this hour of the night. Apparently it’s a cocktail, very popular with beauticians and carpenters. So steer clear of that. It’s a Gin and Tonic all the way, not Gin & Tonic, that’s like something you’d see in the golf club in Fermoy. And of course it’s a lime in the Gin and Tonic - a lemon in a G and T is like a Norrie in Sunday’s Well Tennis Club. It simply doesn’t belong.
Don’t live in a bungalow. That just says, “I built the ground floor of my house and then I ran out of money.” And top tip on the whole family thing. If you have three children, hide one of them. The correct number of kids in the right circles is two. Any more and people will think you’re a practising Catholic. That’s a complete no-no these days. Actually, it’s never a bad idea to pretend you’re a Protestant. I looked into it – if you turn up on time for three meetings in a row, people will assume you’re a Protestant.
Sweden. ABBA, IKEA, Volvo, everything about Sweden will put you up the social ladder in a flash. They say it’s expensive, but not for anyone who spent an afternoon in Dublin.
As if. It’s dedicated to my accountant, Scobie Comerford. I’d be lost without him.
- Reggie’s Guide to Social Climbing is available in bookshops, online and in ebook format.
