An Irishman's Diary

YET again recently I read an obituary of a man of whom it was alleged that, during a long and distinguished life, he had not been one to "suffer fools gladly". And yet again, I found myself wondering why this fact was considered newsworthy, writes Frank McNally.

The death of someone who, on the contrary, had been one to suffer fools gladly would be a much bigger story, surely. I can't find a recorded instance anywhere. But if ever happens, it should be a candidate for the front page, or even a special commemorative supplement.

It would be preferable, in fact, if the existence of such a unique human being came to public notice before he died. Ideally, his birth would be announced to the world by an unusual star in the sky. Failing that, one would hope that his good works would at least attract attention while he lived.

A person who suffered fools gladly would be an invaluable resource in many organisations. He or she could be deployed as a lightning rod to attract cranks and time-wasters, freeing their usual targets for more productive work. To take a hypothetical example - the Irish Timesnewsdesk - I can imagine such an individual providing an important support role in the handling of nuisance phone-calls.

News editor: "Sorry to cut across you there, caller, but I'm on the way into a conference and, besides, I'm not one to suffer fools gladly. Whereas John, whom I'll put you on to now, is a specialist in that sort of thing. He'll happily listen to your mindless wittering all day, or until you lose your voice. Hold on while I transfer you. . ."

Despite still meriting mention, especially in obituaries, unwillingness to suffer fools gladly is one of the oldest clichés in the language. Since its origins are biblical, it can hardly be confined to English either. No doubt if you live a long and distinguished life in France it will be noted posthumously of you that "il n'a pas supporter joyeusement les imbéciles"or something such.

But the funny thing is that the man who gave us the term - St Paul, in his second letter to the Corinthians - was being ironic at the time.

"For ye suffer fools gladly, seeing ye yourselves are wise," he twitted the Corinthians, who would have guessed he didn't mean it as a compliment. Whereas 2,000 years later, when the use of irony has reached epidemic levels, we usually deploy the phrase with a staight face; and always in the negative.

The Irish Timesarchive records a modest enough 252 uses of the term in the newspaper's 150-year history. But interestingly, the first of these was not until 1899, and that was in a reference to Scripture. It was not until 1908 that a person (still living at the time) was recorded as not gladly suffering, fool-wise.

There must be reasons for this lacuna. The intriguing possibility arises that the Victorian period in Ireland was a glory era for fools, who enjoyed widespread tolerance for half a century. But if the archive is a guide, their persecution resumed in earnest from 1909 - when two instances of their not being suffered gladly were recorded - and it has increased ever since.

It's true that there is often a strong euphemistic element in the phrase's use, especially in obituaries. No branch of journalism is more replete with euphemism - though one celebrated exponent, the late Hugh Massingberd, did more than most to turn colossal understatement into an art-form.

In his lexicography of coded terms, the description of someone as "convivial" indicated that the dearly departed had been an habitual drunk; "a man of simple tastes" was a vulgarian; a person who had "relished the cadences of the English language" was an insufferable windbag; and an "uncompromisingly direct ladies' man" had probably been prone to exposing himself to women after a few drinks.

In this code-language, the alleged unwillingness of the deceased to suffer fools gladly would hint that he had anger-management issues, at least. But true connoisseurs of euphemism would no longer award any marks for a phrase so overused.

In any case, it was not just exquisite understatement that attracted a cult following to the Massingberd-edited obituaries in the Daily Telegraph. The unvarnished truth was popular too, as in this 1988 tribute to a London restaurateur (who had been famous for his conviviality): "Often he would pass out amid the cutlery before doing any damage, but occasionally he would cruise menacingly beneath the tables, biting unwary customers' ankles." Then there was the one about a minor aristocrat who expired in 1991. It began: "The Third Lord Moynihan, who has died in Manila, aged 55, provided, through his character and career, ample ammunition for critics of the hereditary principle. His chief occupations were bongo-drummer, confidence trickster, brothel-keeper, drug-smuggler and police informer. . ."

I don't think the phrase occurred in any of the eulogies when Massingberd himself died just over a year ago. But if it can be true of anybody, it could probably be said of someone who turned obituary writing into high entertainment that he, at least, suffered fools gladly.