Sir, – My late grandmother had a varied arsenal of put-downs, the most memorable of which are: 232. He’d live on the clippings of tin (a very frugal person); 233. He has a belly on him like a harvest frog; 234. They wouldn’t have the price of Keating’s powder (the said powder was apparently a delousing preparation widely used in the early years of the last century and was presumably a very cheap commodity); 235. She hasn’t nails to scratch herself (again, someone in impecunious circumstances); 236. It’s as black as the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat.
A few other classics not attributable to my grandmother are: 237. What would you expect from an ass but a kick? 238. You’re as thick as manure and only half as useful. 239. That gene pool could do with a dose of chlorine. – Yours, etc,
Sir, – 240. How can we have forgotten the wonderful “I wouldn’t give him the itch for fear that on a cold day he would scratch himself and get warm”. – Yours, etc,
Sir, – 241. He couldn’t lie straight in a bed. – Yours, etc,
Sir, – 242. You’ve a grand head on your shoulders . . . pity it’s not on your neck! (Northside schoolgirl 1974). – Yours, etc,
Sir, – 243. Hi Hun, I’m home! (My partner is Irish. I am German.) – Yours, etc,
Sir, – 244. “May his pigs never grunt, may his dogs never hunt, may his hens never lay, may his ass never bray, may a four year old bug build its nest in his lug.” (Taken from Nell Flaherty’s Drake an old Cootehill ballad). – Yours, etc,