We Need to Talk About Cousin Kevin
Matthew Clapham matthewclapham.medium.com
The Undertones’ My Perfect Cousin came on the car stereo earlier today. Every time I hear Feargal Sharkey still lamenting, 40-odd years down the line, how his family think more highly of brainbox…
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The Undertones’ My Perfect Cousin came on the car stereo earlier today. Every time I hear Feargal Sharkey still lamenting, 40-odd years down the line, how his family think more highly of brainbox, goody two-shoes Kevin, I want to shout out ‘Feargal, screw that little sod Kevin! You’re doing just grand the way you are!’

Kevin, for those unfamiliar with the punk classic (who really should school themselves here: 2’36” of listening, a lifetime of gratitude — you’re welcome), the eponymous Kevin is a studious, well-dressed, multi-talented prodigy. Feargal’s aunt and uncle, even his own Ma, see him as the golden boy of the family, and implicitly wish the snotty-nosed rocker would take a refined leaf out of Kevin’s leatherbound book.

Well, I hope the family are eating their words. Feargal has in recent years, and above all months, claimed bona fide National Treasure status in Britain, with calls of ‘Feargal Sharkey for Prime Minister’ (or ‘President’ among the more sensible anti-monarchists) regularly heard whenever his name is mentioned.