Brexit happened - so, I used my heritage to apply for Irish citizenship and access the essentials of being a European citizen: imperceptibly shorter queues at the airport, a smug sense of superiority, and, I assume, a lifetime subscription to The Guardian.
I was proud when my passport arrived, adorned with a photo of my potato-headed dumb Mick face and sporting my surname so common it literally means ‘peasant’. I’ve always cherished being Irish.
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