The cute hoor is alive and well and driving his car around Donegal. A man has escaped being fined for speeding because he was not informed of his offence as Gaeilge. The man, let's call him, say, Pádraigín Máire MacGiollaighhocaighínán (changing a person's name is a failsafe way of avoiding defamation proceedings when you want to say rude things about them. Or so my lawyer, Mr L Hutz, tells me) was apparently ignorant of his speeding because na Garda Síochána, aka the police, could only provide him with an English language document which stated 'You were driving too fast', or words to that effect. Poor Pádraigín, a speaker of the mellifluous Gaelic tongue, had no idea what was going on. So he went to his solicitor. And his solicitor, let's call him, say, Setanta Rua Ó Tírnanóg, got him off.

What a wretched time poor Pádraigín must have on our devilishly anglicized roads. How confusing it must be to encounter signs written in the Sasanach tongue. Strange words like 'Stop' and 'Yield'. And those mysterious marks, 100 km/h. There is no letter k in Irish. So how on earth can a good Gaelgoir be expected to know what these arcane symbols signify?

It was revealed in court that Pádraigín's life was uncontaminated by contact with the planters' wicked words until his teenage years. He can be thankful that his adolescent skirmish with the language of Cromwell himself did not lead him astray down the seductive, wicked path of Anglicization.

Of course, to Pádraigín, the traitorous words I have written would be unintelligble. So, I'll say it in the proud lexicon our forefathers spilt their blood and that of the Sasanach demon to protect, so that men should not suffer the terrible oppression of speeding fines in English: maith an fear, a Phádraigín!