The New 10 Commandments

Tweaked for the 21st Century

I AM THE LORD YOUR GOD . . .

Even though I don’t have an account on Instagram. After thousands of years on top, you can see why God might be a bit upset to find he has been pushed aside by Beyonce and mindfulness.

Mindfulness is still a minority pursuit. Our research shows the leading religion in 21st-Century Ireland is called Out There. As in: “I don’t believe in organised religion, but I do think there is something Out There.” Never mind that it sounds like a horror movie, Out There is the established religion in Ireland now, so it might be worth your while joining up if you want a decent job in the Civil Service.

This dominant religion is not being forced on everyone. (As if we’d ever let that happen in Ireland.) There is a scattering of other belief systems that involve angels and people who can say the word druid without laughing their pants off.

It’s tricky to get at the true figures for the older, established religions. (You know, the ones with gods instead of crystals and witches.) The latest figures on religion in Ireland are from the 2011 census, because it’s not like the CSO can just run the 2016 data through a computer and show us the results. (Where do you think you are? The First World?)

We do know that 73pc of people who baptise their kids Roman Catholic do so because they reckon the local Educate Together is full of hippies. There is also the phenomenon of Catholic parents baptising their kids in the Protestant faith. There are two reasons for this. One is they have posher schools. The other is that Mom has a thing for Henry VIII ever since Jonathan Rhys Meyers in The Tudors.

YOU SHALL NOT TAKE THE NAME OF THE LORD IN VAIN

Bad news. This includes: Jesus wept, Christ on a bike and Jaysus. Which could well mean there isn’t a single Irish person in heaven. (Some say that is the definition of heaven, but that’s another day’s work.)

It’s fair to say we’ve always been a bit fast and loose on the cursing front. There are two theories on this. One is that the English language fails to capture the depths of our pained, Gaelic soul. The other is that we are foul-mouthed scum. Guess which explanation we prefer.

You can expect it to get even worse. Given the number of things you are not allowed to say any more, it’s fair to say we are about to enter the golden age of old-school cursing. Say “Jesus f**king Christ” all you like. It’s no problem as long as you don’t say “ladies toilet” in front of anyone under 30. (How dare you impose your notions of gender on a jacks.)

A quick tip on the c-word (And we’re not talking about Christ). Up until two weeks ago, using the c-word was a sign that you’re a tasteless throwback. And then Trainspotting 2 hit our cinemas. So now you can c-word your way through the day, as long as you do so in a Scottish accent. Look at you all cool and du jour.

REMEMBER TO KEEP THE SABBATH DAY HOLY

The good news for the Church is there are still a lot of Irish people who spend Sunday morning on their knees. The bad news is they are at home with their head down the toilet, because someone at work loaned them a book on how to make mojitos.

The latest figures on church attendance come from an RTE exit poll after the general election last year. In a rare example of public service efficiency, the pollsters tagged on a question about weekly church attendance and found that it now stands at 29pc. (When you factor out those couples feigning faith so they can get married in a church, this figure falls to 3pc.)

Drill down and you’ll find some interesting nuggets. One per cent of respondents in the 25-34 age bracket attend a service several times a week. It’s terrifying to think these people are out there, roaming free around our society. Forty nine per cent of people aged 65 or over go once a week. This is presumably to pray for their immortal soul, or that their 43-year-old son Donal will move out and find himself a wife. Or even husband. Anything would do at this stage.

In terms of geography, 39pc of people in rural areas attend once a week, against 25% in towns and cities. As anyone who reads Michael Harding in The Irish Times will know, this gap is because rural people are very deep and in touch with their spiritual sides. Or maybe it’s because culchies don’t have any shopping centres, and what else would be you be doing of a Sunday morning. We’re going for explanation two.

HONOUR YOUR FATHER AND YOUR MOTHER

And not just because you’ve seen the details of the will. And Mammy is worth a fortune after writing a top-selling, self-help book called You’re Not Amazing, Get Over It.

The key to this commandment is to

avoid any mention of inter-generational theft. This is the notion that parents, with their cast-iron pensions, early retirement and medical cards, are basically leeching wealth from struggling middle-aged types like their kids. You’ll find that said parents are quick to shut this argument down, very often via Skype from their holiday home in Lanzarote (below).

Obviously, the commandment needs a further update to reflect modern living. As well as giving us a reason to slap ourselves on the back for six months, the Marriage Equality Referendum marks the beginning of the end for the traditional family unit. A revised commandment here should read: ‘Honour the two to three people who are your parents and try not to hate them for being uncool just because they are heterosexuals.’

Some things don’t change though. The main one is that Irish families are uncomfortable discussing emotions up to and including the fourth glass of Shiraz. And even with drink on board, things can go disastrously wrong. Many is the Irish man who had a few drinks to help him say “I love you” to his dad, only to find himself shouting: “Say that one more time and I’ll put you in a home” instead. So maybe just buy him a Sky Sports subscription. Even though the stingy bastard could easily pay for it himself, with his seven pensions.

THOU SHALT NOT KILL

This was a tricky one in Ireland for a while. Mainly because a section of the population added ‘unless he’s in the British Army or a random pub’.

Those days might be gone, but an even smaller section of the population now adds, ‘unless a gangland figure gives you five grand’. As a result, figures released last year showed you are six times more likely to be shot and killed in the Republic of Ireland than you are in England or Wales. When it comes to overall murder figures, we are actually ahead of Scotland, which is frankly embarrassing.

Obviously, the Government is doing everything it can to stop the gangland mayhem, because Fine Gael will always put the interests of disadvantaged innercity dwellers over those of large farmers and men called Hugo. So that should be cleared up in no time.

Here’s a tricky truth for people who think they obey this commandment. It doesn’t say Thou Shalt Not Kill Humans, but Work Away on the Beasts. We don’t have accurate figures for the number of people who don’t eat meat here, because the vegans are too tired to answer the door. (You’d be lost without the B12.) But, given that the numbers of vegans in the UK rose 360pc over the last 10 years (with 2pc now vegetarian), you can see where this is going. Soon we’ll have designated meat-eating areas in restaurants — in the draughty bit by the jacks. You read it here first.

That’s for later. In the shortterm, this commandment will dominate 2017, as we contemplate repealing the Eighth Amendment. The Citizens’ Assembly on this, due to make their recommendations before Easter, are reported to be leaning towards a fresh referendum. Let’s have one hope: that, unlike the marriage equality vote, they don’t organise a gloating-party in Dublin Castle for whoever wins. Let us go home and have a quiet drink, glad that it’s all over.

Until the next time.

THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY

That’s easy for thou to say. Thou are not trapped in a loveless marriage. Or negative equity. Nor are you Italian.

Obviously, with marriage on the wane, we should broaden this out to include cheating on a partner (left). So, what’s the current rate of infidelity? It’s a tricky one. People who won’t tell their partner what’s going on are unlikely to reveal the truth to a randomer with a clipboard and high-viz jacket. Mainly because nobody answers their door anymore in case they end up lying to yet another guy who wants you to switch broadband provider.

A few things have given us a window into infidelity here. When cheating website Ashley Madison was hacked in 2015, its database was found to contain 1,100 paying subscribers in Ireland. All that reveals is the number of men in Ireland who don’t realise that the internet is about as secure as a job in the media.

A 2012 poll carried out on behalf of an RTE gameshow found that 40pc of us have been unfaithful. That puts us in and around the European average. It also means we’re nuts. This is Ireland you’re talking about. Seriously, when was the last time you went to an out-of-town hotel with a girl from work, without meeting your wife’s first cousin at reception? (Put down your hand, it’s a rhetorical question.)

Some say adultery isn’t what it used to be. In fact, a survey for Accord last year found that social media use puts a greater strain on relationships than infidelity. We’re not sure about this. “See ya honey, I’m off out to have wild monkey sex with my boss.” “Well at least you didn’t meet her on Tinder. There’s nothing worse than someone staring into their phone all day.”

THOU SHALT NOT STEAL

Unless you can find some way to call it a levy, in which case, steal away. The Department of Finance are the go-to people here. They probably also have a few helpful leaflets on nicking people’s hardearned cash, in case you are planning a start-up called The Bank of Evil.

A quick aside on prudent tax-efficient off-shore financial pension planning. That’s actually known as stealing if you get caught. There was a time when the banks would help on this front, but they are reluctant to step out of line now because of, you know, everything. Give things five years to settle down and ask again if these ‘services’ are available. Because the motto in Ireland when it comes to finance is: ‘Forget everything, regret nothing.’

In terms of good, old-fashioned burglary, CSO figures showed a dramatic 31pc drop in the annual rate for the 12 months up to September 2016. This is partially explained by gardai targeting repeat offenders in Operation Thor. Which reminds us of a joke we can’t repeat in a family newspaper. Google ‘you’re Thor’, if you’re not the type to get easily offended. (AKA, over the age of 30.)

The improving economy is obviously helping to reduce burglaries. People who might have been tempted to do the bit of robbing back in 2010, can now find work as

estate agents. Instead of smashing a back window, they are walking in the front door with 400 potential tenants, saying: “This is the hall, that’s the kitchen. I actually get paid to do this.”

Of course, the real stealing these days is being carried out by the one per cent. They are members of a rich elite that exploits poor servants and avoids paying its share of tax. At least that’s what you told your Brazilian au pair when you handed over her 100 quid weekly pay in cash, before asking if she’d mind cutting the grass (right).

THOU SHALT NOT BEAR FALSE WITNESS AGAINST YOUR NEIGHBOUR

OK, so we’re down to the neighbour section of the commandments. In Irish towns and cities, this could be summed up as: ‘Thou shalt not talk to your neighbour, or they wilt think you are some kind of creep.’ A Macra na Feirme survey a few years back found that only 57pc of people in Ireland know their neighbours. Some say this is a shame. Others say you obviously never liked next door to Mad Mossie.

It’s hard to know exactly what God meant by ‘false witness’. It sounds like a dreary cop show they’d have on ITV. One interpretation is saying something malicious about your neighbour, to further your own interests. This is obviously wrong, unless it involves a planning permission application, in which case go nuts, because we’re all at it.

And then there’s gossip. (We hear Louise in number 47 is fierce for it, when she’s not having affairs.) Unfortunately, gossip is a dying art. People no longer tell tales about other people. Not when they can sit at home on Facebook, and tell tall tales about themselves. #Magicmoments #I’mBetterThanYou.

Of course, some beard-scratching types say that gossip is the sign of a feeble mind. That we have bigger fish to fry, now that a man who prefers water sports to Mexicans is living in the White House. Here’s what we know about these beard scratchers. They obviously didn’t see Eddie from number 14 getting dropped home Tuesday night in a blacked-out limo, advertising a lap-dancing club. (Herself gave him the total silent treatment over breakfast, by all accounts. Helen saw him in Topaz this morning buying a huge bunch of flowers. More news as we get it.)

THOU SHALT NOT COVET YOUR NEIGHBOUR’S WIFE

Is that not covered in the 10th commandment, says you, bursting for ‘interaction’ with the feminists on Twitter.

This is basically a ‘don’t even think about it’ commandment, in case you skimmed over the ban on adultery back up the page. Far be it from us to interpret God’s will, but it suggests he thinks you can’t have sex with a neighbour without planning it for some time. This just means he isn’t alive to the possibilities of an Irish christening party in the back garden. Things tend to happen very fast after the 23rd bottle of Prosecco (right).

Let’s just say Irish people are world class when it comes to sex in a bouncy castle. (It’s harder than you might think.)

This commandment is a clear ban on wife-swapping. Or every other Saturday night, as it’s known in Germany. But what about here? It’s hard to get any numbers on wife-swapping in Ireland. (Unless they’re phone numbers.) You know the way it goes. You type ‘wife swapping Ireland’ into Google and in minutes, there’s a minibus of prostitutes outside your front door shouting, “We are very horny for western men.” The internet. It knows everything. And yet it’s wrong.

If you are really interested in this area, there is a wife-swapping festival called Swingfields, which is held in the west of England every year. The good news is a foreign event reduces the risk of meeting your maths teacher in a transparent mankini. (“Hello sir, this is going to cost me a fortune in counselling.”)

The bad news is this is just the kind of festival to attract Lee from Barnsley. Like all English men, Lee likes to talk about the route he took to his present location. That’s great, if you get turned on by someone saying: “Nice tits, luv. You should have seen the tailback by Strensham Services on the M5.”

Sexy.

YOU SHALT NOT COVET YOUR NEIGHBOUR’S GOODS

What else shalt we do? It was one thing to say we shouldn’t steal them back in commandment seven. But the coveting bit, well that makes the world go around. To be honest, we were going to stay in bed this morning but Ultan next door arrived home in a new BMW and now we want one as well. We don’t want to take his one, because he’d probably spot it in the drive. So it’s off to work we go. Where we learn that Bronagh bought a TV that is actually more realistic than having a person in your room. And so our coveting continues.

Good thing that it does. It’s not unusual for bishops and poets to tell us that consumerism is rotting our souls. Unfortunately, we can’t all live in a palace or off an Arts Council grant. The minute we stop wanting things we don’t need, the world is heading back to the Middle Ages. Or as it’s known locally, the 1980s.

We are currently experiencing Coveting 2.0. Coveting 1.0 was during the Celtic Tiger period, when we went for glitzy expensive brands because we were new to the whole wealth thing. We were so classy back in 2006, it was like someone crossed a trailer park with those boozy Scouser birds at the Aintree races.

Coveting 2.0 is a different matter. Hipsters to the core, we want sunglasses, shoes and handbags to say we’re cool people who just happen to have loads of money. So rather than buying stuff massproduced by kids in China, we want stuff mass-produced in China that looks like it was made by a really cool guy called Erik in Copenhagen.

We’re fooling no one but ourselves. But sure that’s all that matters.