Quick Fact

Redheads are harder to sedate than any other group. Using common anesthetics they require 20% more anesthesia. They also have a high tolerance for pain than normal people other types. This is because the Melancortin 1 receptor mutation that gives them red hair also triggers the excess release of Pheomelanin, which among other things stimulates a brain receptor related to pain sensitivity.ThreeScottishWarriors

Which now explains how my Irish Gran could pick up red hot cinders spat from the fire (with her bare hands) before throwing them back onto it again. It also explains why the fighting Irish and the Scots were so hard to knock down… It is staggering to read that research reveals that there are 20MILLION red hair gene carriers in the UK. Even more staggering, is that Yorkshire is as redheaded as Ireland (I was born in County Durham, and originally dark Auburn, until nature took its course)! article-2401346-1B7041FC000005DC-552_634x757 Map produced by the UK’s DNA showing where redheaded genes are concentrated. In Mediaeval times, red hair was associated with moral degradation, and intense sexual desire. images-2 Redheads with green eyes were regarded as vampires, werewolves and witches. The Spanish inquisition singled them out for persecution, believing their hair to be a sure sign that they stole the fires of hell.

Through personal experience I can state that redheads are my Kryptonite, and with that I will bid you all a goodnight!

Yours Aye.

12 thoughts on “Quick Fact”

    1. Coffeypot, get a grip man, roll up some cotton wool balls, and use a pencil to poke them into your ears, then change the combination on your wallet. Treat yourself to a gallon of Guinness, its loaded with iron…


      1. Are you kidding me? At my age, if I get a chance to go down with a lass, I’ll be on her like a duck on a june bug. Snap it right up. And, from my Navy days, I do not carry cash in my wallet. Always in my pocket. If I open my wallet, dust blows out.

  1. As it turns out, I myself have extreme red highlights in my own hair…but it is from my German/Hungarian ancestry, not the Irish. We were still Celtic, my boy, no matter how it’s spun…k

    1. Kristen, the Romans gave the greatest respect to the red-haired Gaelic and Germanic tribes, especially the fiery spirited women, who fought alongside their menfolk.

      I also have the greatest respect for the fiery ones, as I mentioned in my post, they are my Kryptonite… 😉


  2. Most interesting. I used to be a red head (with a red beard, too) in my younger days. These days I’m a VERY light shade of blond… but I still have one small patch of red on my chin when I put the winter beard on. It looks pretty strange.

    1. Buck, under close examination, I too have the remnants within my moustache, as well as around my high-n-tight cut. My Grandmother must have passed her ‘genes’ down, though I would have preferred a classic pair of Levis instead!


  3. Strange, all these ideas on redheads. My aunt, who died at the age of 93, was a redhead. In fact no one ever called her by official name, Ethel, she was my Aunt Ginger. And sure enough, I had heard stories about her terrorizing the boys in her neighborhood as a child of 8 or nine. She was tough and kind of pugnacious. During WWII, while my uncle and cousins were fighting in the Pacific, a woman on a public bus insulted her mother (my grandmother), and Ginger beat the heck out of her. What is it about red hair?
    My wife’s family had a few redheads. But we’re descended from Jews coming from Ukraine.
    In Spain and Latin America, people think of Jews as redheads. It’s not complimentary.

    1. Clark, my dear old Gran was only 5’4″, but what a terrier she was when riled, my Grandad could press the right button on occasion, which was just fuel on the fire.

      I clearly remember staying over one night when I was around 6-years-old; Granddad rolled home as drunk as drunk can be, having been to the local pub ‘the Brown Jug’ (aka as ‘the bloodbath’). Later evening my 6′ 4″ uncles deposited him at the door, knocked hard, then scarpered pretty quick, leaving poor old Granddad to take the brunt of Gran’s fiery temper.

      He was dragged to the bedroom and deposited into a snotty heap onto the floor. Gran returned telling me he wasn’t feeling well “it must be the flu”… The next morning he stayed out of the way until the volcano ceased to spout flames. Some of the happiest days of my childhood; rowdy Irish rebel songs, and hollywood musicals with Gran, and black and white war movies with Granddad.

      By the way, in the mountain regions of Spain, the locals spit on the floor and cross them selves when they see a fiery redhead. The superstition being that the redhead has descended from El Diablo, or one of his demons.

      I believe that red hair is also fairly common amongst the Ashkenazi Jewish populations, due the influx of European DNA over a period of centuries. At the end of the day, the world really is just a great big melting pot of humanity.


      1. I like your stories about your Grandma and Grandad. I never knew my paternal grandparents; they died before I was born. But I knew my maternal grandparents very well. During the early part of the Depression my parents and I lived in the same little apartment in Jersey City with them until I was 3 years old. After we relocated to the Bronx, we would visit them just about every weekend. I think I loved them more than anyone in the world. My grandma used to stuff me full of her rib-sticking East European food, and Grandpa would tell me stories about his adventures in what he called Russia but is now the separate (sort of) country of Ukraine. He started to work when he was 13 years old and by the time he was 15 had his own business, which was as a glazier. Apparently, they were in short supply there, so he traveled to all parts of the Czar’s Empire. He’d mention places I had no idea where they were, until much later. So when he talked about Krim, I later realized it was the Crimea. And when he talked about people called Moldavani, they were Moldavians. He said that when he came to the U.S. he noticed that Italian sounded something like Moldavani. Of course, Moldavian’s a dialect of Rumanian which is a Romance Language. He once mentioned having traveled to a city called Tavriz. I have to assume that was what on English maps is called Tabriz. But that’s in northwest Iran, in their province of Azerbaijan. Could he have been there?
        Back then, the Crimea was inhabited mostly by Muslim Tatars. They couldn’t have been very religious because Grandpa mentioned that unlike the Russians, they didn’t drink vodka, but drank wine. But any alcohol is forbidden to Muslims. He told me an interesting anecdote. He was talking to a Tatar when he heard this loud screeching noise and saw a man driving a horse-drawn wagon in the distancing, approaching. Grandpa commented to the man he was talking with, “That man needs to grease his wheels.” The local told him, “No, no. An honest man doesn’t care if you hear him coming. Only a thief greases his wheels.”
        My grandma and grandmother told me stories about Grandpa that showed him to be a brave man as well. But I’ll save that for some other time before I figuratively chew your ear off.

        Best wishes,

  4. One of my three daughters is a redhead–and she’s my secret favorite. She has the most personality and is the most magnetic and charming. She’s also a wee delicate little thing, but offend her sense of justice and she’ll come at you like a lion.

    Both of her grandmothers are redheads (one English/Scottish and one Irish/northern Portuguese = all Celt) and they are the same way. They’re a special class of people.

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