A mail storm of spam... with Gael force gusto; Fiona Looney's KITCHEN SINK DRAMA.(Features)

Byline: Fiona Looney

I get very little spam. It may be because I have the world's oldest email address and a server that, as far as I can tell, exists only to serve me, its last remaining customer. I would guess that the purveyors of spam have recognised, correctly, that there's very little chance of shifting lorry-loads of Viagra by targeting a single individual -- and one with a reputation for ridiculously tight purse strings at that -- and so, by and large, they leave me to my own devices.

Some still try, of course. I recently had a mail from the mother of one of The Teenager's friends, t rying to off load whatever pharmaceuticals my heart desired, including, of course, Viagra. Needless to say, when I rang her to decline her kind offer, she was as surprised as I was about her previously undisclosed nixer. A few days later, Matt Cooper mailed me to offer me a loan with an astronomical APR. Yes, that one (well, no, obviously not that one, but somebody passing themselves off as that one, if you're still with me). And then there is GaelSong.

Now, strictly speaking, GaelSong is not spam. Also, as they'd probably race to point out -- and no doubt will do in their next dispatch -- I kind of started it. I came across GaelSong two years ago, when, in the course of writing an article and needing a quick quote from a WB Yeats poem to make me appear cleverer than I am, I Googled the name of the poem and hit on the first site to offer a match. That site, ladies and gentlemen, was GaelSong.

I quickly copied down the couplet and tried to leave the site, not realising, back in that more innocent time, that GaelSong was the internet equivalent of the Hotel California. Before I checked out, it wanted to know, would I like to buy the poem in question on a brass plate, lovingly engraved by leprechauns (or some such). I would not, I ticked, and left. But I wasn't getting away that easily. Since then, I reckon I've received 200 emails from them, each offering some piece of Irish-themed, well, tat: Tara brooches, Aran sweaters, tin-whistle CDs, tweed shawls, replicas of Queen Maedbh's jewellery, ornamental wolfhounds... and a world of Celtic mementoes beyond.

What all this merchandise has in common -- apart from the obvious Irish theme -- is that it is all lovingly crafted and all quite spectacularly expensive. An example, from their most recent missive, is the 'Donegal sweater coat' -- which is simultaneously exactly what it says it is and impossible to imagine -- that has just been reduced from $198 to $158.40. The clue to the success, or at least to the persistence, of GaelSong is right there in the currency. The site is aimed at Irish Americans with more money than tangible connections to the Old Sod. Quite why they think an actual Irish person might be interested in their Donegal sweater coat is beyond me. But still they come.

It goes without saying that GaelSong went nuts over the last couple of weeks. Coming up to St Patrick's Day, I was bombarded with Celtic crosses, bog sculptures, shillelaghs and every sort of diddly-eye imaginable. The emails came so hot and hard that it became a sort of Celtic internet porn, wrapped up in Donegal tweed. I know I probably could have blocked the mails but, to be honest, my Irish pulse was racing so fast, I kind of couldn't get enough of it.

I'm blocking The Wiggles, though. The Wiggles, in case they're not bothering you, is an Australian TV show, designed to appeal to pre-school children. And, indeed, the last time I had a pre-school child in the house, they appealed to her very much -- so much so that I went to their online shop and bought some Wiggles figures for her. That was six years ago, and they've never let me forget it. Every few months, The Wiggles get back in touch, offering me more Wiggle-related merchandise. Meanwhile, their former devotee is contemplating growing breasts. Dear Wiggles: children move on. I would suggest you do the same.

As to GaelSong, sure keep them coming. I honestly can't see myself ever investing in a Donegal sweater coat, but there is a strange comfort in knowing that if I ever feel the need, I'll know exactly where to go.

Don't miss Fiona Looney's brilliant column, with her unique take on modern Ireland, only in the Irish Daily Mail every Wednesday.

Did you know?

It is estimated that around seven trillion unsolicited spam email messages will be sent this year around the world