‘An Irish Mancunian’ : P J’s Story

My parents are both from Ireland, We grew up Irish in Manchester

I know who and what I am. I am an Irish-Mancunian. I am from England, but I am NOT English. I am not being disrespectful to English people; I am just not one of them, that is why it was natural, rational, and imperative for me to only ever have an Irish passport.

In the summer of 1983, when we had just turned 18 my good friend Michael Rafferty suggested that rather than going on our yearly holidays to Ireland, we should go interrailing around Europe. I reluctantly agreed, but the problem was that we didn’t previously have or need passports. Being second generation, we decided that the only passports for us were to be the nice shining green ones of Ireland.

We posted off our applications, and the funny thing was that our parents thought we were bonkers for wanting Irish passports.

Back at college we were telling our fellow travellers, Jose and Antonio, about our applications. An English lad accused us of being traitors and just wanting to avoid being conscripted , as the British press were still floating the idea of national service after the Falklands war of 1982. Jose and Antonio were so impressed with our cultural stance that they applied for Spanish and Italian passports respectively.

They hadn’t really done their research – 12 months later they were both summoned to do their national service in Spain and Italy. Jose got around it by attending University for two years and Antonio was forced to not visit Italy for decades afterwards.

I recently did a DNA profile test and I found out that I am 97% Irish, 3% Scottish, and 0% English

And as it says in my lovely purple passport – Nationality -Irish