Sure, and I'll be having some of that

Congratulate me. A leaflet from the council dropped through my letterbox informs me that as an Irishwoman born and bred, I am now part of a specially

designated ethnic group. There are 8.5 million of us living in this country - twice the population of Ireland - and a smattering of London

boroughs (among them Camden, Islington, Haringey, Brent) have singled us out.

When I ask 'Why?' the reaction is extreme jitteriness and in the best tradition of the Kerryman joke is answered with another, 'Why do you want to know ?' The man from Islington did finally suggest the purpose is to identify

special needs and draw up plans to meet them.

After some initial irritation at this patronising attitude I realised I might be on to a good thing here. My needs are certainly special and they are legion.

I am at this moment forming myself into a sub- group - Irish wives of Englishmen, and if my husband so much as utters the words 'Paddy the Irishman,' I'll have him in the courts and through the cleaners before he can down his next Jameson.

As fellow EU members know to their

chagrin, the Irish are masters when it comes to getting grants. It is not so much that our needs are more acute as that our applications are brilliantly designed and presented. Unfortunately they have just cottoned on to this in Brussels.

However, I will now target the local council with the same innate skill which has proved so successful for my compatriots in providing Euro-billions for development schemes.

As a member of an ethnic minority the responsibility of the local authority must be to help me realise my racial characteristics to the full. Everyone knows the Irish are addicted to drinking and gambling and love horses and music and I certainly conform to the stereotype so I'll be asking for money for development in these areas.

Firstly I'd like to set up a poitin-making enterprise. You Sassenachs think of it as no more than rough moonshine, but the best stuff is as good as any of the special Scotch whiskies. The equipment is not complicated. A few bits of

piping and a cistern to heat the mixture in. The usual thing is a copper household heating

cylinder. You can imagine the reaction of the builders' merchant when an Irishwoman trolls into their yard and asks for the water outlet pipe to be transferred from the bottom to the top of the cylinder.

I know how to make poitin, having been instructed by masters of the craft and there is a vast market ready and waiting. All I need is the grant - which would kill two birds with one stone by contributing to inner-city regeneration.

I haven't been doing too well at the races this year. Such is the sorry state of British racing that the odds on anything with half a chance are hardly worth risking just for a place. But if

Camden could see its way towards backing me for a season, I'm sure my luck could change. It would be council tax money well spent.

As a member of a race producing more

champion jockeys than any nation on earth, love of horses is an important part side of my own character. Living away from my roots, I am

losing some of my nerve. Going over the jumps these days my heart is in my mouth. If I could be provided with my own yard full of quality

animals, I'm sure I'd recover my old flair and be more in tune with my Irishness.

When you put your mind to it, there is no end to the areas which might have begun to atrophy. I spoke Gaelic as a first language but my vocabulary is now getting rusty. A council-funded month at the Irish College in the beautiful Donegal village of Glencolmcille would do

wonders and enable me to interact more fully with my non- Gaelic speaking Irish neighbours.

There is no reason why I should be the only member of the family to benefit from this

minority largesse.

My daughter has got wind of her special

status and feels that her own minority - musical children with one Irish parent - might have a claim on local authority resources. Camden has withdrawn its funding from the Centre for Young Musicians where she studied the harp - the emblem of Ireland.

Camden's are the only London children who must find their own fees and those who can't pay can't play, but she is confident she can now get the borough to pay while they continue to ignore the needs of her peers.

If these simple requests fail, I'll demand legal aid to take Camden through the courts for

refusing to foster my ethnicity in the drinking of whiskey, eating of pig's crubeens and cavorting about in the true Irish fashion.

(Photograph omitted)