Here’s an idea. Let’s dename Ireland. I mean, who among us wants to live in a country called Anger Land? It gives the wrong impression of us, entirely. We’re a friendly people with a hundred thousand welcomes. The country’s name is a stain on us all. It dredges up visions of purple-faced pikemen from the past. So let’s ditch it. All it takes is the squiggle of a pen and a few million euro for the new letterhead.

But what to call it instead? Hibernia, maybe? No – too close to “hibernus”, the Latin for wintry, and we don’t want to put off the spendy tourists. How about Cathleen Ní Houlihán? That’s a joke, right? Sure, you couldn’t be giving it a woman’s name. It’s common knowledge that, if a great edifice requires a name, a man’s one is your only man.

Take Dublin Airport. Some bright spark decided it warranted a catchier moniker. He cast an eye over the capital and it landed on Portland Row, and Troy Parrott specifically. “Bygob, I’ve got it,” he declared. “We’ll name it after the lad who brought us great joy by scoring a dose of football goals, albeit without a trophy to show for them yet.”

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No, no, not the woman from further along the Row, Kellie Harrington, who brought home a brace of Olympic gold medals.

Over Dev’s dead body will a sportsman get the honour, thought a Fianna Fáiler in Leinster House. Now there’s an actual Oireachtas Bill proposing to rename the........

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