Forum chat is like Clarkson punching you repeatedly in the face

Oh, you're one of them there racists, are you?

He's the one with the 'Danny Boy' nametag

I first came across the notion of an Irish race many years ago. I had popped in to see the editor of a computer magazine – one that I later edited myself, but that’s another story – and she was Irish. She still is, as it happens. Anyway, at one point, she suggested I speak to a commissioning editor on another magazine located at the other end of the office. I didn’t know the fellow, so I asked for the precise whereabouts of his desk.

“Oh, you can’t miss him,” she said. “He looks very Irish.”

I was dumbfounded. What could this mean? I have studied, worked and played alongside Irish people all my life but it had never occurred to me that they might look Irish. One designer I worked with in the 1990s was tall and cool and very Matrix, but even he felt compelled to utter clichés such as “Top o’ der morning’ to yer” just to remind us of his DNA.

Wandering to the other end of the office, I couldn’t help but analyse the physiognomy of every person I passed, almost to the extent of uncomfortable intrusion into personal space. I would stop at every desk and leer. What does someone who looks “very Irish” look like? Should I be looking for a red face? Red hair? Would he be wearing green? Would he be wielding a shillelagh and have a pig tucked under his arm?

In the event, he was easy to find. His desk was situated next to a pot of gold coins at the bottom of a rainbow.

Back to my online forum woes: I find myself 50 comments into a discussion with some jolly cross people who are convinced that this Jeremy Clarkson fellow is seeking a Final Solution to exterminate all Irishmen, Burmese and Argentinians, along with Eenies, Minies and Moes. I also learn from them that Clarkson is a talented ventriloquist, having thrown his voice to make it appear that an otherwise blameless fellow TV presenter called Richard Hammond was inciting genocide against Mexicans.

This Top Gear programme sounds like a right rum do, if you ask me. I must watch it to find out... except it doesn’t seem to be on at the moment.

All or none of the claims may be true, I don’t care. So why the heck was I surrounded by mentalists shouting at each other – and me – about people and events about which I know absolutely nothing? I had only passed a quip about the price of a hot meal, not taking sides in a nut job debate about the pros and cons of allowing Sunday Times columnists to punch Irish people in the face.

Online, though, this is to be expected. Online, everyone is angry.