|There's actually a book called |
Pissing in the Snow by Vance Randolph
I'm sorry. Every now and then when you're doing research for a book, you have a complete and total WTF!? moment. I thought it was fairly entertaining that women in Iranian harems darkened their lips with coffee if they weren't lucky enough to sport a natural moustache. But this... I can honestly say, this tops the lot.
I'm really knackered at the moment, been a bit unwell. I was going cross-eyed with the amount of research I'm having to wade through. So I decided to let Word's Speak function take over for a bit. It's not the best, especially at Gaelic pronunciation, but it lets me learn with my eyes closed for a while.
Hmm, big Celtic warrior... uh-huh, pisses off evil goddess, sounding good so far... poisoned by dog meat, noted...
Then this happened:
In another related story, Aided Derbforgaill ("The Death of Derbforgaill"), the Scandinavian princess Derbforgaill, whom Cú Chulainn rescues from being sacrificed to the Fomorians in some versions of Tochmarc Emire, comes to Ireland with her handmaid, in the form of a pair of swans, to seek Cú Chulainn, with whom she has fallen in love...
One day in deep winter, the men of Ulster make pillars of snow, and the women compete to see who can urinate the deepest into the pillar and prove herself the most desirable to men.
Derbforgaill's urine reaches the ground, and the other women, out of jealousy, attack and mutilate her.
I pretty much spat coffee all over the screen.
Sounds like something Ygritte out of Game of Thrones might suggest: let's have a pissing contest to prove our womanliness. Bet I can piss deeper than you, Jon Snow.
Perhaps that's where the idiom pissing contest actually comes from?