Read an extract of Páraic Kerrigan’s ‘Pop Culchie’

Updated / Monday, 12 Oct 2026
06:00

Páraic Kerrigan’s Pop Culchie: The Irish Popular Culture that Made Usis an exploration of how popular culture has shaped Irish culture and history over the last half-century.

From the rise of Irish reality television and the country’s first music video programme MT-USA, to forgotten chart acts, moral panics, tabloid sensations and unlikely national icons,Pop Culchie explores the stories behind the pop culture moments that defined us.

Below is an extract from Chapter 2: Gas Housewives: Cookers, ‘Lovely Girls’ and The Calor Gas Housewife of the Year Competition.

It is 1989 and on the stage of Dublin’s Olympia Theatre, Margaret Witherow, a mother of three from Convoy, Co. Donegal, stands under the bright lights beside Ireland’s beloved broadcaster Gay Byrne. As their conversation unfolds, Gay asks Margaret if she would recite a poem. Margaret, composed but a little nervous, agrees. Gay, raising an eyebrow, asks: ‘And you wrote it yourself?’ Margaret nods firmly. ‘Well done,’ Gay responds, as the room settles into a hush and Margaret begins to recite her poem, to the packed audience in the Olympia and the hundreds of thousands watching her at home on television:

‘Out of bed at seven, before I’d even yawned, a little

voice called “Mammy”,

Another day had dawned.

I organised the breakfast, I was feeling none too bright,

“Mammy, have you seen my shoes, I left them here

last night.”

One final check, now off you go, hurry here’s the bus,

While my easy-going husband can’t understand the fuss.

I grabbed a cup of coffee, Gaybo’s coming on,

Himself shouts from the bathroom, the sheep are on

the lawn.

I ran into the garden, still in my dressing gown,

And ran into the postman, I almost knocked him down.

He handed me a letter, another bill alas,

But no an invitation, from Calor Kosangas.

And so it was that morning, that I first got to hear,

That I had been nominated, for Housewife of the Year.’

As Margaret finishes her poem, the audience bursts into applause. Gay Byrne shakes her hand, plants a kiss on her cheek repeating, ‘Good girl, good girl’. Meanwhile, to really seal the deal, a pre-recorded segment rolls, showing Margaret’s cooking skills. She proudly presents her pièce de resistance, a leg of lamb, tastefully adorned with white heather for luck.

Back in 1989, Margaret flexed her domestic muscles on a national stage in pursuit of the Holy Grail of homemaking accolades: the title of Housewife of the Year, which she ended up winning. Long before the rise of the modern ‘tradwife’, who treats 1950s’ gender roles like a hot new trend, the Housewife of the Year contest was Ireland’s way of saying: ‘Ladies, stay in your lane and make sure it’s spotless’.

I am only partly joking here, however, as the Housewife of the Year contest, while to a degree a reflection of the limited roles available to women at a particular point in Irish history, also shone a spotlight on the significant domestic labour that sustained Irish society – performed by Irish women and, for the most part, unpaid and uncredited.

Running from 1967 to 1995, the contest was not just about celebrating domestic skills, but rather it was the

Olympics for homemakers, where multitasking and creativity were on full display, as well as the correct way to make a soufflé. It’s worth noting that Ireland’s other famous pageant, the Rose of Tralee, had a strict marriage ban.

Married women or single mothers were not allowed to compete, leaving Housewife of the Year as one of the few public platforms where Irish women, particularly homemakers, could step into the spotlight and have their skills recognised, becoming dubbed, as Paul Melia notes in The Irish Independent, ‘the Rose of Tralee for mammies’. For many who participated in the contest then, it wasn’t just a competition; it was validation in a world that didn’t often look beyond the kitchen door. Of course, if you weren’t ready to hang up your apron entirely, you could try your luck at the Mary of Dungloe festival, where your wholesome qualities might win you a serenade from Daniel O’Donnell.

The first of the Housewife of the Year competitions was held on 4 November 1968, at the Shelbourne Hotel. The contestants were selected by the sponsors, which included ESB, McDonnells of Drogheda, home of the curry sauce, and Woman’s Way magazine. Renagh Holohan, writing inThe Irish Times in 1968, asked prospective housewives about their potential participation in the competition.

One 24-year-old, who had been married for less than a year, noted that she wanted to take part out of economic necessity. That year’s competition had a prize of £150 in cash and £150 worth of electrical equipment up for grabs, so this would have provided some economic relief for families. In that first year, contestants had to cook a three-course meal for the judges, and they had to take the leftovers home the next day, cold.

After the culinary battle, the contestants were interviewed on stage one by one while the rest of the women were locked away in a room, out of sight and out of mind. The competition eventually moved to the Irish Food Fair at the Mansion House, before it became a TV event in 1982 with Gay Byrne at the helm, hosting until 1995. The prize reflected its domestic roots. As The Irish Times notes from 1975: ‘this year’s title is worth £500 in cash and a gas cooker. Any married woman in Ireland is eligible.’

The basic premise of cooking a meal remained a mainstay and fluctuated in form over the lifespan of the competition. In 1977, for example, the housewives had to cook a two-course meal for four people, at a total cost of no more than £6, a pre-social-media-era version of feeding five people for five euro. The panel of judges then awarded marks across a series of categories, including the housewives’ appearance, personality and intelligence, all of which were, of course, expertly assessed during a thorough ten-minute chat on stage, because nothing says ‘genius’ like nailing small talk while holding a casserole.

As the competition grew, the Housewife of the Year became a kind of domestic championship, with regional heats taking place up and down the country. Rivalries brewed over the best champ and colcannon dishes, with the ultimate prize being the chance to represent your region at the Dublin showdown. Who needs Croke Park when you’ve got a Pyrex dish and a dream?

Pop Culchie: The Irish Popular Culture that Made Us by Páraic Kerrigan is available now.