The catechism of cliché

In his fantastic Myles na Gopaleen columns, Flann O’Brien would satirise the predictable, the trite and the meaningless through his hilarious Cathecism of Cliché. And now you can use this handy reference guide to spot cliché usage at matches, meetings or in everyday conversation:

Of what is the club the cornerstone?
The entire Association.

What prefix is invariably associated with the weaker counties?
So-called.

Of what is there none of that young fella at wing-forward?
Fear.

But what incorporeal part of him would a good scelp to the head soften?
His cough.

With what could his team-mate in the corner not hit a cow’s arse at five paces?
A banjo.

With what was the man inside him thick last night, a situation consequently hampering his performance today?
The drink.

How much short of a tramp is that referee?
Nothing.

And what does he need to get checked pronto?
His glasses.

What would that big horse of a man at midfield do to a brick wall for you?
Go through it.

Because he is built like what other sort of brick structure?
A shite-house.

In what direction will this selfless fellow bust the play, to the advantage of his teammates?
Up.

What is the most desired quality in a corner-back?
Stickiness.

And a half-back?
Knackiness.

And a half-forward?
The propensity to take flight.

And a corner-forward?
Deadliness.

Off what is the dressing-room door normally left hanging?
The hinges.

Off what do craggy old full-backs deliver the majority of digs to their markers?
The ball.

By what term is this sort of happening usually referred to?
An incident.

What part of the team’s individual bodies had the trainer run off them the other night?
The legs.

Because he is a what for the physical stuff?
Savage.