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Culchies are found far outside Dublin, in the likes of Meath, Louth, Tipp, Cork and so on. They most certainly are not members of Redbrick, and a few culchies I know still don't even have Internet at their house. Anyone who works or loves at a farm is a culchie, bit a culchie might not necessarily work or live at a farm. Be wary of difference. The language of the culchie is a vague dialect of English. You may hear a few words, here and there, upon overhearing a conversation between the Bog-folk; but you certainly will not understand it. Be sure to recognise this among your peers who claim to be "Dubs". If they mention any word of a "day trip to Dublin City" or a "shopping spree before Christmas on Henry Street" or "a picnic in St Stephen's Green" you can be sure they're boggers, muck savages and culchies.

I recently ventured (within the last few hours, to be precise) to a 21st birthday party in a pub (read: shebeen) that was located in the middle of nowhere. In fact, it took me and my guest a few wild guesses and wrong turns around hilly and bendy country roads before we found this place. While I knew many of the people there (normal townspeople) I found several examples of the local natives, one of whom proceeded to take to the dancefloor to entertain us with some sort of traditional country dance. In a way, it was exactly like that scene in Deliverance where the young in-bred lad is playing his banjo and this ould lad is givin' it socks with a dance.

Here is the photographic evidence, and the required notes in order to recognise one, should you ever be faced with/subjected to the likes of a culchie:

Image:Culchie.JPG

Category:Humour