However, the remarkable height of the dollar against the euro is about as thrilling as they can get.

The Australian dollar reached a high of 0.82 against the beleaguered European currency on January 16. It also hit a 27-year-high against sterling.

That was unthinkable in recent memory, with the Aussie dollar at 0.48 against the euro at the height of the financial crisis in 2008.

(As of yesterday evening it was at 0.81).

It’s creating problems for some and opportunities for others.

For backpackers freshly landed Down Under, the Aussie’s dizzying climb will serve them with a cruel welcome.

Savings will be eaten into more rapidly and early recourse to that dreaded backpacker practice – employment – will be needed sooner than planned.

Australia’s major cities are expensive enough in the first instance. Add to that the fact new Irish backpackers have had less with which to prepare financially for their departure than previous Irish arrivals, owing often to a stint on the dole.

So many arrive in Australia with less in their pockets.

Recent media reports suggest that some backpackers, including those who have arrived from Ireland, are finding themselves trapped working in Sydney, unable to afford to travel to see what this great country has to offer.

Established expats receiving visitors from Ireland can expect louder grumbles of discontent about costs than usual.

Conversely, the exchange rate offers opportunities for others.

A miraculous return to what would be considered historically normal levels of exchange between the euro and Australian dollar is not likely to happen any time soon.

Speaking on RTÉ’s Morning Ireland radio programme on January 20, Greece’s finance minister said his country’s chance of defaulting on its debts was 60 to 40.

Such an unstable and unpredictable environment cannot possibly breed recovery by the end this year or next.

Australian investors are now looking to Europe and understandably so given the large assets that need to be shifted by Ireland, Portugal, Greece and Italy to strive for balanced books.

National Australia Bank and Barclays told The Wall Street Journal on January 18 that they were hearing of more interest in potential deals in eurozone countries. “I am seeing an increase in interest and discussion around Europe as an option,” Peter King, head of acquisition finance, institutional banking at NAB told the newspaper.

“Where the currency is sitting at the moment versus the euro, the boards of companies and investment committees are no doubt thinking about their European growth aspirations,” King said.

It may be depressing to hear Ireland the subject of what sounds like speculators’ chatter.

Still, why not accept, prima facie, the egregious situation the country is in and adopt such logic for smaller investment opportunities?

The inflated property market was, we now know, much of Ireland’s recent undoing. Its collapse has led to some remarkably low prices, with drops of up to 50 per cent since the boom era in the Irish capital alone.

While those who were unfortunate enough to lose out in that market will be unable to re-enter it for years, there is a large contingent of wealthy Irish expats around the globe who might be enticed to own a home in the country of their birth.

Legally, it may be difficult to get such schemes up and running, given the various different source countries of the buyers.

The European Union has made moves to protect expats’ property investments in the likes of Spain and Malta. Australia, America, Canada and Britain would be good places to start getting the word out.

It might not be something that expats or the government would consider normally. But we are not living through normal times.

RIP: Talented Michael Quinlan was an artist, writer, painter and decorator.

The death has taken place of Sydney artist, writer, painter and decorator Michael Quinlan.

The Limerick man made his way to Australia in 1963 after spending some time in England, where he travelled widely in the merchant navy.

Michael began his life with little formal education, but read widely, and in the end wrote too. His book, Mickey Slabdabber, tells the story of his impoverished – but outgoing – youth in Limerick, and his initial migration to Yorkshire.

The book came out because Michael, a contemporary of Frank McCourt, felt indignantly that the latter’s bestseller Angela’s Ashes was overly critical of his home city of Limerick, and he wished to correct some of the aspects of that work.

Michael eventually met Frank again when the latter visited Glebe, in Sydney’s inner west.

Instead of a confrontation, Michael presented him with a photograph, and they reminisced amiably together.

He was a great supporter of and donor to the St Patrick’s Day Parade, and one of his proudest moments was when he was invited to the Town Hall reception to view the parade from the balcony one year, where he also met the visiting 9/11 firemen.

Michael executed a number of paintings of Limerick as it was in the 1930s and 1940s, based on photographs from old newspapers that were sent to him from that city, and his own recollections.

He is survived by his sister Marie, his nephews Roy and Michael and his niece Elaine, their 17 children who live in Yorkshire, and by several cousins in Limerick.

Michael was buried in his favourite brown suit at Botany Cemetery in Matraville with his younger brother Thomas.

Michael himself cut, polished, and inscribed the green marble cross there, which is unique in the cemetery.

Dublin's Glasnevin Cemetery, where graves of Irishmen who fought for Britain in WWII remain unmarked. (Pic: Infomatique/Flickr)

The legacy of Irishmen who fought for the British army in World War I and World War II is considered too rarely.

A BBC radio documentary broadcast last week – coupled with some recent Irish agitation on the topic – has brought their fate into relief once more.

The documentary, aired as part of BBC Radio 4’s Face The Facts series, tells the story of Irish soldiers who were placed on a blacklist after leaving the Irish Army to fight for Britain against Hitler.

A confidential list, conceived and maintained by de Valera’s government, barred the men from gaining State jobs.

Some 4,983 ‘deserters’ were dismissed under the Emergency Powers (No 362) Order 194.

The surviving elderly Irish citizens involved still feel as if they are pariahs.  That reality is poignantly recalled in the first person during the programme.

Our modern eyes – less steeled by the conflict and painful division of past generations – can see that it was shameful to have treated men who were heroes abroad as hounds at home.

There are several shades of grey within this unsavoury episode in Irish history. An attempt to understand why is not apologia.

The actions, clearly regrettable, were comprised more of realpolitik than any overarching dastardliness.

The fledgling State and Defence Forces were at pains to use every opportunity to bang the drum of their own legitimacy.

In fair mind and without hysteria, can we admit the harshness of ‘the list’ was designed to punish the men for the army they had fought for, just as much as the act of ‘desertion’ itself?

In the first decades after independence, concern about an illegal, violent and militarised organisation and what that organisation could do to Ireland’s fragile sovereignty were real. In refusing to give the IRA a stick with which to beat them, the government of the day went too far, to the detriment of noble Irish citizens.

The companion piece to the Face The Facts programme published on the BBC website, contained an erroneous contention by a Trinity College historian, noted in this blogpost.

He estimated that 60 per cent of the Irish population “expected or indeed hoped the Germans would win” World War II.

It was equivocation and a taint on an otherwise fine documentary to link the stark official reaction to these brave men – some who had liberated Belsen – with wide Irish support for Nazism.

Some 70,000 Irish fought for the British Army during World War II.

The programme aired days before an historian’s plea for soldiers’ families to help identify and mark their graves in Dublin’s Glasnevin Cemetery.

The historian has called for these men’s families to come forward so that they can be recognised appropriately.

The Justice Minister Alan Shatter, meanwhile, is waiting on legal advice from the Attorney General on whether the Irishmen branded ‘deserters’ can be given an official pardon. Labour and Sinn Féin support the proposal.

There is a window to offer full and frank restoration to the men and their families.

It would mean something coming from the State that was the very source of their ill-treatment.

It is a narrow window, however. The impending centenary of the 1916 Easter Rising is likely to make public debate on this forgotten few impossible amid a potentially jingoistic din.

Time is not a friend to the men waiting on redress. Some are nearing 100.

It was July 2006 before the Irish Government first commemorated almost 70,000 Irishmen who died during World War I. Many died alongside Anzacs at Gallipoli.

At a ceremony held in the National War Memorial Gardens in Islandbridge, former President Mary McAleese laid a wreath on the cenotaph. The Defence Force’s participation on that day was a form of recognition and respect.

It’s not too late to right a wrong.

Vince Murray presented Ireland Calling on Sydney's 2RDJ-FM.

Vince Murray passed away peacefully at Bankstown-Lidcombe Hospital on Friday, December 23, 2011. He had suffered a massive stroke in early November and never recovered. He was 71.

Born in Knockcroghery, Co Roscommon, he had a younger sister Mary, who passed away in 2011 after Vince had returned to Sydney following a visit home to see his family. He is survived by one brother, Harry, who lives in Galway.

Vince suffered a very early setback in life when at the age of 16, his mother passed away.

In the early ’60s, a period of high migration from Ireland, Vince hit for England.

He worked in various jobs, from nursing to the reception desk at a major psychiatric hospital. Vince’s management skills were recognized at an early age and he became assistant manager of a rehabilitation hostel for the mentally ill in Essex.

During this period, Vince had a passion for radio and being a broadcaster. He would spend many hours making mock radio programmes.

In 1973, Vince emigrated to Australia, settling down in Sydney.

He worked at Osti’s fashion house before moving on to assistant manager for the NSW Housing Commission. He was quickly promoted to manager of the Waterloo complex in Sydney and was next transferred to the Riverwood office as property manager.

Vince’s passion for radio broadcasting continued and was very much part of his other life away from work. In 1975 he, along with three others, formed radio station 2RDJ-FM.

In the following years, after many submissions to the broadcasting authority and trial broadcasts, 2RDJ-FM acquired a licence to broadcast on community radio. Vince was up and going and soon hit the airwaves.

He was very proud of his Irish heritage and along with the author, founded the programme Ireland Calling. As the producer and presenter, Vince’s passion for Irish culture was paramount to the programme.

He was the voice of the Irish in Sydney for more than 25 years.

Vince continued to present Ireland Calling up to his retirement in 2010. During his years, he served a term as chairman and secretary of the board. In recognition of his service to 2RDJ-FM, Vince was appointed its first patron in 2010.

I would like to thank the Irish-Australian community for the support and compassion they extended to Vince in his final weeks and days. To Fr Tom Deveraux for the sacramental support and to Ken Maurer (Maurer & Bracks funeral directors) for his advice and assistance.

Thanks to the staff at Bankstown-Lidcombe for the care they extended to Vince. His family in Ireland spoke of the comfort they felt in the knowledge that Vince was not journeying alone in his final days and hours.

It was Vince’s wish to be taken back to Ireland and laid to rest with his family in Knockcroghery, Co Roscommon.

* A memorial service to celebrate the life of Vince will be held at St Joseph’s Catholic Church, Rockdale, at 7pm on January 20, 2012.

The Irish rugby team provided a sporting win to savour at Eden Park. (File pic)

It has been a year of upheaval.

Few could have predicted how Ireland could change and change utterly in the space of 12 months.

The European debt crisis continues to present grave challenges to Ireland and the other 26 members of the European Union.

Uncertainty pervades. The Irish Government has sought legal counsel on the need to hold a referendum on the fiscal accord hammered out in crisis talks last week.

Voters’ recent form on European referenda is not something that will provide comfort to the Taoiseach.

The Irish public continue to pay the price for the mistakes of a former government and a financial cohort who put short-term self-interest ahead of the national good.

It is disquieting that few have paid a price for their actions.

The recent budget, announced over two days, has made gruesome reading. Austerity is a word that almost every Irish man and woman now understands with clarity. It doesn’t mean they like it.

In 2011, we have seen the explosive fallout from incidences of clerical child sex abuse in the diocese of Cloyne, the eradication of Fianna Fáil as an electoral force, a controversial and at times bizarre presidential election campaign and the appointment of Ireland’s first female Chief Justice.

Irish politics lost some of its members to illness and old-age. Brian Lenihan and Garret FitzGerald passed away prompting differing assessments of their legacies.

As is often the Irish experience, sport provided a welcome distraction in times of economic strife. Ireland beating Australia at Eden Park at the Rugby World Cup was an unexpected but delightful moment.

Giovanni Trapattoni was not to be outdone. The manner of the Republic of Ireland’s play-off success was not something that fans of Irish soccer see often, if ever.

The Irish in Australia continue to write their own story.

More of us are arriving. Ireland was in the top ten source countries for skilled migration to Australia this year in absolute terms and the largest in per capita terms.

We welcome tentative moves by the Irish Government to work with Western Australia to structure an apprenticeship scheme to accept Irish workers. With emigration once again a fraught topic in Ireland, a softly-softly approach is needed.

Of course, the most prevalent Irish person in Australia was Qantas CEO Alan Joyce – at one point the third most mentioned man on the planet – who made headlines as the airline and unions battled it out.

Prior to the dispute, he was the target of some ill-considered commentary. Liberal Senator Bill Heffernan haphazardly referred to him as a ‘bomb maker’. Earlier, The Australian newspaper had apologised for an article, which mocked the Dubliner’s accent.

There were other incidences of paddywhackery too, such as Tony Abbott’s ill-judged Irish gaffe at the Libs’ party conference and WA State Premier Colin Barnett’s comments about the ‘leprechaun of Joondalup’.

Such commentary is daft and politically damaging.

More recently, the Australian Treasury’s plan to scrap the Living Away From Home Allowance (LAFHA) left many expats scratching their heads over what to do next.

For many temporary workers with families, the fringe tax benefit was used to help pay rent, childcare, school fees or the mortgage back in Ireland.  If the cost of residing in Australia remains prohibitive for skilled workers then they may simply look elsewhere. Something will have to give.

Next year looms as another difficult one for Ireland.

More austerity, more emigration, more economic hardship.

As we face the uncertainty of 2012, we wish our readers, advertisers, subscribers, friends and colleagues a safe and happy Christmas and a peaceful and prosperous New Year.

Michael Hickey, pictured here in his 20s, was one of 15 children.

Michael Hickey
1929 – 2011

Michael Hickey was one of 15 children from a farming family in Co Offaly. He made his way to Australia in his mid-20s, after spending some time in England. He was the only family member who emigrated to Australia.

Michael had various jobs in a few different states in Australia which included labouring, driving and greasing machinery, mining, cleaning and also digging out Lake Burley Griffin in Canberra. He was admired by his work colleagues and friends for his physical strength and was a keen football player.

In his mid-30s, he met his future wife Kathleen McAleese at the Gaelic Club in Sydney. After a year of courting they married and then had three children together. Michael, their first child, died shortly after birth.

Over time, a degenerative condition slowly robbed Michael of his ability to walk.  That didn’t stop him from enjoying life though. He enjoyed trips to Coogee beach with his family and despite sometimes getting dumped in the surf, he just got back up again and kept swimming.

Michael’s work ethic and determination was witnessed on many occasions by those who saw him dragging himself off to work before sunrise. He could have just as easily stayed at home.

Mick was already quite disabled, when in 2002 a stroke rendered him permanently bed-ridden and he was taken to Lewisham Nursing Home. Every fortnight Mick eagerly anticipated the latest edition of the Irish Echo, so he could catch up on what was happening back in Ireland. He was particularly fond of the sport pages. Every time he would read each edition cover to cover, several times. When he returned the Irish Echo to his wife, it was always badly roughed up (so obviously thoroughly enjoyed).

Michael did not live to see Ireland beat Australia in the recent Rugby Union match and my sister-in-law, who watched the exciting game, said that Michael would have died with excitement seeing it. He was always so enthusiastic about Australian and Irish sports.

Hopefully, Michael was an inspiration to those who met him. His disability was certainly matched with a dogged determination and he certainly fought all the way to the end.

He will be in our memories forever.

(Rolf Muller, is the late Michael Hickey’s son-in-law)

Mary McAleese spoke with a homeless man at St Vincent de Paul, Dublin, on her final official engagement. (Pic: Niall Carson/PA)

As attention turns to Ireland’s new President, Michael D Higgins, after his official inauguration last Friday as Ireland’s ninth head of state, it is worth reflecting on the legacy of the woman who has vacated the role, Mary McAleese.

Mrs McAleese was the first person from Northern Ireland to hold the position.

With hindsight, we can look upon the popular election of a British citizen as Irish president as significant. It spoke of a prevailing wind in Irish politics in which less than a year later would see Ms McAleese in office for the signing of the Good Friday Agreement.

The Ulster Catholic academic faced a considerable task upon her election on October 31, 1997.

Born in Belfast as Mary Leneghan in 1951, she was educated in law at Queen’s University and called to the Northern Ireland bar after graduating. At just 24, she became a professor of criminal law at Trinity College in Dublin, before spending the years between 1979 and 1981 as a journalist with RTÉ (an often overlooked curio).

She returned to her alma mater as pro vice chancellor in 1994, before three years later securing the nomination of Fianna Fáil for the presidency. Her candidacy was supported by a then-dominant party, led by Bertie Ahern.

She has not suffered from the taint of their spectacular demise.

Before taking office, her predecessor Mary Robinson recast the role – albeit under the auspices of tight constitutional limitations – by performing with dignity and international stateswomanship.

Until that result in 1990, presidents had all been male.  Most spent their seven years concealed from the public, comfortably in The Park. Robinson broke the male hegemony on the office.

She was going to be a hard act to follow and the immense goodwill that she built up during her term might just have been the cause of Ireland’s initial aloofness towards her successor.

Robinson had negotiated the roadbumps of pre-devolution Northern Ireland, drawing criticism for her well-documented handshake with Sinn Féin’s Gerry Adams in the process.

McAleese accepted the torch that had been passed to her by Robinson and that ongoing work culminated with the visit of Britain’s Queen Elizabeth to the Irish State in May of this year.

McAleese often cites the 2003 Special Olympics to be the highlight of her presidency, but others may observe the British Monarch’s visit to take that accolade. “Your visit here is an important sign – among a growing number of signs – that we have embarked on the fresh start envisaged in the Good Friday Agreement,” McAleese told a State dinner, held in Dublin.

“Your visit is a formal recognition of what has, for many years, been a reality – that Ireland and Britain are neighbours, equals, colleagues and friends. Though the seas between us have often been stormy, we have chosen to build a solid and enduring bridge of friendship between us and to cross it to a new, a happier future.”

Her presidency built many bridges and she held office as Ireland moved, catastrophically, from boom to bust.

It was a difficult end to her tenure. McAleese certainly felt the pain of her people in later years and there was some difficulty in maintaining the restraint demanded by her office as the actions of Ireland’s economic institutions came to light.

The latter years of a 14-year presidency were characterised by crumbling pillars of old Ireland.

Two such pillars – Fianna Fáil and the Catholic Church – were institutions close to McAleese. The first had nominated her while the latter had sought her participation in the Church’s New Ireland Forum in 1984.

Both institutions have had a torrid few years.

However, McAleese’s affiliation with the pair did nothing to prevent her comforting and assuaging the grief of those who had suffered as a consequence of a deviance that rankled in Fianna Fáil and the Church’s outer edges.

She leaves office with the affection of her people.

Colm Tóibín lamented that emigration is a tragedy for Ireland. (Pic: File)

At the recent Global Irish Economic Forum in Dublin, the Irish Government invited a diverse range of individuals from the world of business, the arts and philanthropy to discuss Ireland’s diaspora.

At one of the workshops, author Colm Tóibín opined that “emigration out of Ireland has in general been a tragedy for Ireland and for the people who emigrated from Ireland”.

As someone who has written books — albeit fictional — on the topic, Tóibín is well entitled to his view, but is he right?

In raw economic terms, Tóibín is certainly right.

For Ireland, the troubled economic entity, it is a tragedy that the state is losing many of its best and brightest to other countries. Australia is one of the economies that has benefited enormously by the influx of skilled Irish workers, trained or educated by the Irish taxpayer.

The Irish are thriving in Australia, commanding the highest average earnings of any European migrant group.

In human terms, emigration is difficult.

Any circumstance where a family gets geographically separated is painful. There is no getting around this and expats often have to face the challenge of raising a family without the support of their own, just as mothers and fathers left behind ‘grieve’ for their departed children.

Children of expats often miss out on the unique friendship of cousins, the deep affection of grandparents and the trusted circle of uncles and aunts.

However, those children do not miss what they never had and emigrants often idealise the extended family experience, ignoring the political squabbles that can often plague close-knit Irish clans.

So, do emigrants warrant or deserve pity?

Since the 18th century, Irish people have left the land in search of better lives elsewhere.

Between 1717 and 1785 more than 200,000 Ulster Scots/Irish emigrated to the United States. From those days forward, Irish people have left Ireland either as free-willed emigrants or refugees from religious persecution, hunger or economic disadvantage.

Many left to escape the scourge of sectarianism in the north of Ireland or the blanket papism in the south.

More recently, people have left Ireland to satisfy their ambition or their cultural curiosity about the world.

In times of economic hardship — like now, or in the late 1980s for instance — that ambition may be limited to acquiring a job. But even in the days of the Celtic Tiger, young Irish people left in large numbers to seek adventure and experience abroad, much in the way young Aussies do. Many of those who have come here have utilised the very successful working holiday programme, which has seen more than 300,000 young Irish come here over the past 25 years.

For many of us, that working holiday extended beyond a year. Work, sponsorship, career opportunities, romance or other life events perhaps changed the plan. The journey from carefree
adventurer to expat can happen in the blink of an eye.

Many never look back, others do little else.

So what, if anything, would draw emigrants back home? Stable employment? Yes. Family? Almost certainly. Lifestyle? No doubt.

But expats often get seduced by what their current location offers that Ireland cannot: a free and well-funded national health system, a meritocratic employment system, the relative absence of cronyism and nepotism, a modern electoral system, proper transparency and accountability in public life, and the opportunity to reinvent themselves.

Many Irish leave because of how the country is run and recent events only confirm their worst fears.

What keeps them away is certainly influenced by the prevailing economic circumstances but that is only part of the story.

Ireland, like Cheers Bar in the famous Boston sitcom, is a place where everyone knows your name. For many, that is a comfort zone. For others, it’s a claustrophobic trap.

Emigration can be a tragedy for those who have no desire to leave.  For most Irish, however, the urge to go is simply satisfying an innate and often irresistible desire to leave the nest.

The Queen spoke at Dublin Castle during her State Visit to Ireland in May. (Pic: File)

As Australia prepares to welcome its rarely seen head-of-state, Ireland is preparing to elect its ninth president.

Ireland, struggling with severe economic hardship, has been energised by a fascinating election campaign involving a diverse and intriguing field of candidates that represent the country’s emerging diversity.

Meanwhile, the Queen arrives in Australia this week for what many observers believe will be the last time.

The lack of media coverage and interest ahead of the sovereign’s visit underlines, once again, the peculiarity and absurdity of Australia’s constitutional arrangements.

Clearly, the Queen is not Australian. Even the monarchists would not be so hypocritical as to claim that she is.

Yes, she is well liked and perhaps even loved by some. She also has the respect and admiration of many republicans as a woman whose devotion to duty has been impeccable. One only has to look at her extraordinary recent visit to Ireland to see how this elderly lady has the capacity to inspire and win new friends.

But the concept of a privileged English aristocrat being head of state of Australia grows more ludicrous by the day.

Her reign as Queen of Australia is a consequence of history. It is the legacy of Captain Cook’s annexation of Australia in 1788, and later, in the late 19th century, of the unwillingness of the so-called fathers of federation to cut the apron strings with mother England, and later again, of the spinelessness of Australia’s politicians to grasp the nettle of constitutional reform and, most recently, of a stitched-up referendum devised to split the republican camp.

Ironically, that vote, in 1999, went down because Australians wanted what Irish citizens have: the ability to decide who their head of state will be.

Australian political leaders of the day, the Liberals’ John Howard and Labor’s Kim Beazley, along with the then head of the Australian Republican Movement, Malcolm Turnbull — who later became the Liberals’ leader — were uncomfortable with the ‘Irish model’ or any scenario that would facilitate a popular vote for a president.

So here we are, with a head of state that few, if any, Australians see as one of their own, an individual who has the job by virtue of her lineage who cannot be voted out no more than anyone voted her in — an absent posterior on a meaningless throne.

Contrast this to the energy and dynamism of a presidential election in Ireland where the citizenry, sovereign in an Irish republic, decide who their head of state is going to be. This is the most fascinating of electoral contests, bringing together characters that represent the broad spectrum of Irish life.

The field includes a former paramilitary, a gay academic, a successful businessman, a former Eurovision winner, a philanthropic organiser, a left-leaning poet.

The campaign has been robust but conducted with civility and respect between the candidates.

Sadly, not all Irish citizens will get a chance to vote. Tens of thousands of citizens will be disenfranchised from the poll because they will not be present in the country on election day.

Irish politicians, it seems, are not prepared to bring the country into line with other democracies and allow its citizens abroad a say.

While a number of the candidates for the presidency have vocalised support for extending the franchise, there seems to be little political will to make it happen.

It is perplexing that the recent Global Irish Economic Forum, essentially created to explore ways to energise Ireland’s diaspora, did not look at voting rights as a tool for the country to stay connected with its global family.

But putting that issue to one side, the presidential poll — to be held on October 27 — will be fascinating indeed.

Whoever wins will be able to say that they have put themselves in front of the citizenry and won their support in a democratic poll. That is something that Australia’s head of state can never claim.

'The Dog Man' Martin McKenna with an Irish wolfhound cross.

Martin McKenna has had a dog’s life.

The Limerick native first came to Australia’s attention as a self-taught dog expert, with a remarkable back-story.

His first book, The Dog Man: An Expert Explains Dog Sense, was published by the ABC in 2001. This despite his illiteracy.

He took part in a regular ABC local radio segment giving advice to callers about their dogs.

Recent years have been quiet until his second book, What’s Your Dog Telling You?, was released last week.

McKenna wrote it using phonetic spelling, with his 16-year-old daughter Sigrid helping to standardise the text.

His central thesis is that dogs are constantly challenging man’s authority and need to be shown who is in control every day.

Speaking by phone from his Nimbin farmhouse, McKenna recalls corporate attempts to cash in on his story after he first came to prominence.

A leading brand asked him to endorse dog food but he declined citing sulphur dioxide found in the products.

“The truth doesn’t sell very well, that’s why we pay for the lie,” he says. He is fond of a philosophical aside.

On matters of the heart: “Love will go to any length to convince the other to be with it.”

On knowledge: “Whilst it’s never about the messenger it’s all about the message.”

On physics (sort of): “Nothing is ever formed in a vacuum and a vacuum doesn’t exist, because if it identifies itself with itself it no longer validates itself, does it?”

There’s an air of Hallmark about some of this but McKenna has a lovely turn of phrase, delivered in a Limerick lilt.

There is too a rapport with the canine kind. Watch any number of YouTube videos in which McKenna demonstrates the various meanings behind dogs’ body language.

Although his dreadlocked hair and residence in the smokey New South Wales town of Nimbin are ammunition to those who judge a book by its cover, McKenna is savvy to what some naysayers make of him.

“It’s an uphill battle, because what I’m saying doesn’t suit them. It doesn’t lend itself to purchasing products and it’s more about understanding and doing for the dog,” he says.

He doesn’t charge a fee for the advice that he gives dog owners and is just happy to help out those who ask for it.

:: Triple-troubled childhood

Born in Garryowen, Limerick, in 1962 to a German mother and a locally born father, he is one of identical triplet boys. The tale of his childhood is rough, painful and hard to verify.

He speaks of learning difficulties, a violent, drunken, military father and a Garryowen minority who painted swastikas on the family’s home.

“I guess we were kind of ostracised from the start,” he said.

“My aul fella used to always call us the little pups and that’s what everyone called us – ‘you’re just the little pups, look at ye’ – that’s the analogy that was made.

“People would stare at us all the time, my mother wouldn’t take us out on the street because everyone would point at us.”

He and his brothers owned two German Shepherd dogs, which were dubbed Hitler’s dogs by the local children.

He attended St Patrick’s school in the city.

“I wasn’t learning nothing. When you’re traumatised, you can’t f**king learn, it’s as simple as that. Everyone knows that. Childhood trauma messes with your brain. I would go to school hungry, with welts on me because my aul fella belted me for stealing money off him and stuff like that. But I was only stealing it to give it to my mother because he wouldn’t give her any money for food.”

When the school authorities, “the churchies”, tried to send him back to first year classes, he reacted by fleeing through an open window. The teachers pursued him to his home, where McKenna set his dogs on them. “It was the first time in my life where someone was running from me.’

He was flogged with a kettle chord at home and the German shepherds were put down. Cruelly, his teacher held a minute’s silence for the dead dogs during class after McKenna had been forced to re-attend.

The brothers waited outside with hurley sticks and attacked the teacher’s car as it drove past.

“He’d take one of us. We’re Celts, man, f**king pure Celts. You take one of ours and we’ll have one of yours,” said McKenna.

He ended up on the streets and kept the company of stray dogs before leaving Ireland.

He is a fascinating and occasionally mysterious character. Various anecdotes trail away with McKenna wanting not to talk about this or that. The period after his childhood may have been spent in an asylum, but he cannot remember.

He roamed around Europe and Asia before arriving in Australia.

He was an illegal for many years but his status was legitimized following the birth of daughter Sigrid with his partner Leah.

The pair are currently separated but Leah reckons they will get back together.

“Living with him has been hell,” she says, speaking to us while he gives an interview on another phone.

“Someone had to civilise him. He was a Limerick boy who spent time in a shed, a hay barn, with a pack of dogs and had no civilisation. He’s come out to Australia and Australian women have been civilising him ever since.

“The main thing that I taught him was to slow down with his talking and to present himself.”

What’s Your Dog Telling You? is published by Harper Collins.