For those of you who are unaware of this august but aged institution, the Mothers of Seven refers to the old clique of elderly women who considered it their duty to rule the morals of the country.
Those of you in the UK who remember Mary Whitehouse just need to imagine a group of her kind in each and every parish.
The Mothers of Seven were devout Catholics and considered themselves even holier than the Pope. They attended daily morning mass, and after would gather in groups to exchange [and embellish] gossip and to generally rip everyone’s character to shreds. In their little world, the only authority was the local parish priest. Politicians were treated with a certain deference [usually at funerals where MoS and politicians tended to congregate] and the local Gardai were ignored altogether. The law of the land was considered infinitely inferior to the moral standards set by MoS.
Their moral standards were rigid in the extreme, and nearly always involved sex in one form or another. A girl who kissed a bloke before marriage was considered an absolute slut and fair game for a full character shredding. Anything further than a kiss was The Devil Incarnate and a topic that could only be gossiped about in faint whispers. Sex in fact has one purpose and one purpose only and that was to procreate [hence their name]. If your name cropped up in one of their gossip sessions you might as well pack your bags and emigrate.
I thought they had more or less died out but apparently they haven't.
They came across this –
Good God! Not only are they giving away free gingers to be shagged but are giving away free condoms!
This is the work of the Devil himself! And this is taking place in good holy Catholic Ireland?
Naturally they complained to the local priest and obviously instructed him to get over to this den of iniquity sharpish and perform an exorcism.
The priest chickened out however and went to the Gardaí instead.
The Gardaí for once in their lives did the sensible thing and said it was none of their business.
By this time tomorrow the Mothers will have the names of all the attendees and the gossip will be rife. Names will be shredded and whole families will be shunned.
The Good Old Days are alive and well and living in Rural Ireland.