The most Irish thing about me breaks the Germans
This is not a complaint. I like the Germans. I've been here almost ten years, my life is here, my friends are here; I genuinely think you're good people.
I just don't connect with ye.
And it isn't the language. My German is bad, but it isn't that bad. And let’s be honest, you don’t really need German in Berlin.
It’s deeper than that.
There's something about the Irish and the Germans. There's something about our souls. Every interaction is two magnets turned the wrong way; the harder we push, the more they refuse each other.
I think what it is, we're too far on the opposite side of the spectrum on too many things. I'll give you an example.
Ireland’s favourite pastime.
The Irish love to say thanks. That's our favourite thing. It's a sport.
If you've ever been to Ireland, you'll notice a bizarre phenomenon. Everybody thanks the bus driver. Everybody.
You’ll see people everyday on the bus go "Thanks very much, man. I really appreciate that," as they step off, thanking him less for the driving and more for existing, which in Irish public transport is the harder of the two.
And the bus driver, like, he kind of accepts it.
Not modestly. He takes it on board as a man receiving something he is owed, thinking to himself:
"Yeah. I fucking nailed that!
Drove to all the stops.
Followed the prescribed route.
Yeah!"
It's a nice little exchange of energy. Why not?
Whereas I learned recently, if you want to break a German's mind, like I mean completely dismantle their sense of reality, you thank them…
for doing…
their job.
They can't wrap their head around it. Their face does the thing yours would do if you ordered a coffee and got handed a live goose.
I injured my finger.
Accident and emergency, on a weeknight, holding my own hand and trying to remember the German word for finger.
In case you’re wondering, it’s "finger."
It was a very scary time.
The German doctors were fantastic. They were really great doctors. They sat me down, they calmed me down, they wrapped me up, and then they sent me on my way.
And just as I was leaving, I was so grateful in my little Irish soul, I turned to them and I was like, "Thanks very much, lads. I really appreciate that."
This is what the German doctor said to me.
"That is literally what I am paid to do."
I stood there holding my bandaged finger up like I was submitting it as evidence.
"Yeah, I know. I was just feeling very grateful there. I just wanted to say thanks."
He said it slowly, the way a doctor checks whether a head injury has been missed. "But I am contractually obligated to fix your finger. I don't understa-"
"Forget it. Never mind." I interjected, closing it down before we did each other any lasting emotional damage.
We're just opposite.
I was in Dublin once. I was on Grafton Street about 3:00 AM.
I saw a man in front of an ATM. He had his pint on top. I don't think it was his first.
And just as he was leaving, he patted the machine on the side and just said:
"Nicely done. You're after fucking nailing that, boi. Good job."
Nobody looked up. Not one person on Grafton Street at three in the morning thought they were witnessing something unusual, and neither did I.
What if…?
It won't happen, but what if the German economy collapses?
Okay. Stop. I can feel you tensing up. No need to open another Google tab. Nobody's economy is collapsing in an article about buses. This is hypothetical. We're fine. Breathe.
Right.
But… what if it did?
And Germans have to emigrate?
And they go to Ireland.
And they start driving the buses.
What's going to happen?
Everybody in Ireland's gonna be doing their thing like, "Thanks very much, man. I really appreciate it."
The German bus driver has no idea what is being done to him. He isn't being thanked. He is being audited.
Constantly.
At the door, by multiple strangers, over a service that was never in question.
I can just imagine him screaming at the top of his lungs, while he slowly loses his mind…
"THIS IS WHERE THE BUS GOES!!!
This is the route.
These are the wheels of destiny…
We are bound together."
I don't know if you know anything about the Irish, but if the Irish ever discovered that that's what happened when you thanked that bus driver, everybody would want to thank that bus driver.
"Did you thank the German bus driver?"
"I did, yeah."
"What happened?"
"Dude, he had a fucking stroke.
I killed him.
Stone dead, boi."
Ten years I've been here. I still do it. Every bus, every doctor, every bakery.
Sorry in advance.
Hi, I’m Brendan. I do stand-up in Berlin. In English. In front of Germans. On purpose, several times a week. If you want to watch this go wrong in person, we run shows across the city. Same misunderstandings, better lighting.
You can also watch the full article above in stand-up form here.
