Black Friday has arrived in Ireland with all the subtlety of the Russian army arriving in your village.

My inbox is groaning under the weight of ‘MASSIVE SAVINGS!’ and ‘NEW DAY, NEW DEALS!!’ emails. Every retailer in the country is screaming about bargains that may or may not be real. Hold fast, dear people. Resist the urge to assimilate!

It’s worth remembering that Black Friday only crept into Irish life around 2013 without anyone asking for it. One minute we were blissfully unaware of this American post-Thanksgiving ‘tradition’, the next we couldn’t get away from it.

The irony is that we’ve imported one of America’s most garish commercial traditions while ignoring Thanksgiving itself, which is all pumpkin pies and Tom Hanks holding hands with his family around a table. It’s a genuine, wholesome affair where people meet, break bread and, ultimately, tear each other’s heads off about politics.

Yes, we seem to be more than happy to let the capitalism engine go into hyperdrive here in Ireland. And this writer is no better, by the way. I’ve already bought a dough slicer, twenty velvet hangers, a clothes horse and a stand mixer this week alone.

At least the Welsh have the right idea. They call it ‘Dydd Gwener y Gwario Gwirion’ or Silly Spending Friday. Which says it all really.

A crisis of carbonara

Speaking of international absurdity, Italy is having a proper meltdown over carbonara this week. Agriculture minister Francesco Lollobrigida has demanded investigations after a Brussels supermarket was caught selling jars containing pancetta instead of the sacred guanciale. ‘This is not carbonara!’ he thundered, as if someone had spray-painted the Sistine Chapel.

I remember when pasta first arrived in Ireland in the 1980s like some alien artefact. My family would stand around an unopened packet for hours, like the apes around the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey. We simply didn’t know what to do with it. We thought that maybe they were like small plastic spuds, but we couldn’t be sure.

Now we’re making our own pasta and I’m fairly certain half of West Cork could lecture you on the proper ratio of egg yolks to pecorino.

The Italians, meanwhile, are losing their minds over supermarket carbonara in Belgium. On the one hand, the EU has never looked more fragile.

On the other, haven’t we all become so much closer?

Corruption of the system

If you need an antidote to commercial nonsense, The Black Swan has just landed on BBC after causing an earthquake in Denmark. Over 2.3 million Danes watched it, half the entire country, making it the second most-watched programme in Danish history. I’m not sure if there are plans to show it in Ireland yet.

This documentary follows lawyer Amira Smajic (nicknamed ‘The Ice Queen’), who spent a decade working for Denmark’s most notorious criminal gangs before becoming a whistleblower. Filmmaker Mads Brügger set her up in a fake law office rigged with hidden cameras for six months, capturing criminals, corrupt lawyers, and businessmen openly plotting money laundering, fraud, and torture. The series shattered Denmark’s self-image as the ‘least corrupt country in the world’ and triggered police investigations and emergency government meetings. Smajic, originally from Bosnia, is now in hiding after death threats.

It’s a really, really fascinating look behind the curtains at the banality of the criminal underworld and how it has learned to use lawyers and complex company structures to make fools of officials and a joke of the system. If this is what’s happening in uber-efficient, hyper-vigilant Denmark, I can only imagine what’s going on here.

Liam Wilcox, a daily smile

Then there are the small things that put a smile on your face, and one of those is West Cork man Liam Wilcox, who’s become one of my favourites on Instagram. He’s got over 13,000 followers on his account, sending out daily updates about life in West Cork: sunsets from Mizen Head, the changing weather and the state of the tides, with regular cameos from his sidekick, Brandy the Jack Russell.

Liam also has a habit of walking very close to cliff edges while out walking. Now, I’m not great with heights at the best of times but chuir sé sin an croí trasna ionam.We’re constantly hearing about how social media divides us, ruins our mental health and destroys our politics. Don’t get me wrong, all of that’s true. But then you get something like Liam’s Instagram, and it’s a reminder that the same technology can also connect us to the places and people we love in ways we never could before.

Living up here on the northside of Dublin, Liam’s videos bring me straight back home every day. A sunset over the Atlantic, a walk on Barleycove beach, regular updates on the Goleen bus. It’s like a portal back to the place I love. And judging by his follower count, I’m not the only West Cork exile who’s tuned in.

So thanks a million, Liam. Keep up the good work. I’ll be tuning in on a daily basis from up here in Marino; thankful for the reminder of home.