Please do not feed the Irishman.

I was today an exhibit in an English class.  It was an English class for immigrants; my qualifications as exhibit being that I speak English and am Irish.  It's a little strange being the exotic foreigner to a bunch of other exotic foreigners; any of them could equally well have filled that role for me when I was studying Swedish.  What does one talk about?  What makes one's country special and unique?

I whittled on about rain and our very minority native language, and our appallingly expensive and ineffective state services, the things that leap out at me.  Luckily it only occurred  to me later that our true contribution to modern culture is probably guerrilla warfare; fighting in small, independent units on lightening assaults with-out resorting to hopeless open warfare, the end being attrition.  Possibly not what one wishes to advertise as ones major achievement in the current climate, especially as it's likely that several of the students are refugees from such conflicts and are probably facing repatriation.  Perhaps best to stick with leprechauns after all....