DUBLIN, IRELAND—After centuries of suffering, the people of the world will finally have some much-needed relief from the offending filth of the seemingly ubiquitous Irish. The remedy: a new, freshly scented deodorant soap developed specifically with malodorous Irish riff-raff in mind.
The soap, an exciting logo-embossed consumer product featuring rich lather, an outdoorsy spring-breeze scent and a revolutionary two-deodorant composition, will come in a visually enticing green/white marbled color combination deliberately designed to attract persons of Irish descent by appealing subconciously to deeply rooted cultural signifiers.
"In addition to being doubly powerful in fighting odor-causing Irishness, the soap possesses a specially patented, evocative, whimsical image, invoking memories of a long-lost mythical Irish arcadia, where the Irish gripped blades of grass in their clenched teeth and bathed in the icy waterfalls of dew-dappled woodland ponds, and everything smelled wonderful—so unlike the Ireland of today," said Rodger Watkins, co-chair of the soap development team.
"At last," Watkins continued, "decent folk will be able to go outside without having to hold scarves to their noses whenever a swarthy, drunken, potato-gorged bricklayer ambles their way. Now the Irish will have a tolerable—perhaps even pleasing—scent bleeding from their pasty, sweaty persons."
Under a new mandate just passed by the U.N. General Assembly, tubs of water and bars of soap will be delivered to all Irish households with clear instructions on appropriate bathing habits. The instructions will be in pictogram form to ensure comprehension on the part of the typically ignorant Irish.
"Although many forms of soap have been developed in the history of science, and good ones at that, they were simply not effective enough to cleanse the citizens of the Emerald Isle," Watkins said. "Once they wash themselves fully with this soap and rinse off, their abominable stench will be virtually gone."
The turtleneck-clad scientist explained that the precise formulation of ingredients leaves all who use it, even the Irish, "Fresh and clean as a whistle."
The soap's breakthrough secret, said Watkins: "two deodorants."
Watkins demonstrated the innovation by displaying a bar of the soap and cutting a sliver off with a knife. A look at the interior of the bar revealed clearly defined streaks of green and white, with the colors serving as a visual representation of the two odor-fighters.
Since the inside of the bar looked exactly like the exterior surface, it was unclear exactly what this method of demonstration was intended to accomplish. Witnesses agreed, however, that the knife's usage conveyed a spirit of manly, outdoorsy virility.
"After that display, I almost want to buy the product myself... and I'm not even Irish!" said observer Sharon Lowenstein, hastily adding that she would never actually humiliate herself that way, and would of course continue using only the proper Jewish-themed soap she'd used for years.
The plan has met with some resistance, particularly in the Irish community itself. "Begorrah," Dublin native Seamus O'Finley said. "Oi would sooner snuggy up ter a bumblebee dan dunk me hoide in dat dere bathwash. Noo, surr. Th' best perfoom fer old Seamus be da Earth wot God done made his own self."
Per the new U.N. statute, O'Finley was forcibly dunked in a vat of hot water by police and scrubbed until pink. O'Finley was then issued new, clean clothing, while his grimy, sweat-stained outfit of a shirt, breeches and tiny green bowler with a shamrock tucked into the band were confiscated. He was permited to keep his clay pipe.
"The rebellious and confrontational nature of the Irish will be a problem," said Chicago Chief of Police Thomas Franck, whose city is home to more than a million Irish. "But that's what billy clubs are for."
Chicago mayor Richard Daley is tremendously excited about the new soap as well. "We've got a lot of Irish here, that's for sure," he said. "And hooo-wheee, on a hot day, they can smell 'em in Decatur."