You know it has been a pretty grim year for the Irish language when it fell to Gregory Campbell to provide the light relief.

Reviews of the MP’s “curry my yoghurt, can coca coalyer” routine were mixed, with many failing to acknowledge the comic genius involved in parodying both the Irish language and the stereotype of the humourless DUP man in one yoghurt-based gag.

Commentators also missed the fact that Gregory had used the same line over seven years ago in Stormont, without exciting nearly as much reaction.

Back then the North, it seems, was a cold house for experimental comedians, but thankfully things have changed, even if Ulster still says Danone.

Down South on Lá Mór na Gaeilge, thousands of Irish speakers were “dearg le fearg” as they marched in support of the first ever Coimisinéir Teanga’s decision to resign in protest at Government failures to support the language.

An Taoiseach Enda Kenny responded by appointing a self-professed non-Irish speaker as Minister of State for the Gaeltacht.

The new minister, Joe McHugh, began his tenure by inviting the people of Ireland to go “on a journey” with him as he tried to learn the language.

McHugh’s journey began with a crash course in the Donegal Gaeltacht and he hasn’t looked back since.

Styling himself as a sort of Minister for Irish Language Enthusiasts, he blogs regularly about basic grammar and tweets in delight at the new words he encounters on his travels.

He was particularly giddy at discovering “smugairle róin” (jellyfish) and “dreapadóireacht” (climbing), while he also marvelled at the polysyllabic splendour of “grianghrafadóireacht” (photography) which, he pointed out, contains 21 letters.

As someone who is essentially learning a language at the behest of his boss, it would be churlish to begrudge Mr McHugh the simple pleasures that are enjoyed by learners of languages the world over.

Maybe his positivity will cause a fresh outbreak of enthusiasm nationwide, but we should also spare a thought for those who have already been on this journey and are, therefore, excluded from sharing in his excitement.

Take, for example, the people of the Gaeltacht who were once considered so important that they merited a senior Irish-speaking Minister all of their own.

Then again the leaders of the 1916 Rising were once held to be so important that they were routinely included in any narrative of the 1916 Rising.

Displaying a Campbellian flair for surrealist satire, the official video for Ireland 2016, the State’s commemoration of the Easter Rising, bucked that historical trend.

An Ireland Inc. fantasy in which Pearse and Connolly were replaced by Queen Elizabeth and David Cameron in the story of the rebellion, the video was hastily removed from Ireland.ie following protests.

There was also much dismay at the Department of Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht’s admission that Google Translate had been used to provide the Irish language text for Ireland.ie.

The Department insisted the Google-Ghaeilge was merely “holding text” that should have been replaced by an official translation before Ireland.ie was launched.

When the official translation arrived it still bore a striking resemblance to the earlier version in Google-Ghaeilge, and the replacement text itself was eventually replaced by what was presumably a more official “official translation”.

The 1916 video did, however, get one thing right.

In using as its soundtrack a toothsome pop song in Irish to add a little ‘native’ flavour to proceedings, the much maligned video captured perfectly the prevailing view of the language as pleasant background noise, an innocuous pursuit best left to the enthuasiast.

A Millward Brown/Tuairisc.ie opinion poll published in October showed that a large majority of the population believe that the State should do more to support the Irish language.

Unfortunately, this particular strain of enthusiasm for Irish among the public is never regarded by policy makers as evidence of a possible mandate to radically change their approach to preserving the language.

Instead the State continues to relinquish its responibilty for ensuring that Irish survives as the language of the home and the community in those areas where it is still spoken by a majority.

The Gaeltacht Act has essentially handed over the messy business of language planning and language maintenance to the people of the Gaeltacht, while risible reforms proposed for the Civil Service fail even to guarantee public services in Irish to Irish-speaking communites.

In education, sensible proposals for change in how teachers are trained to teach Irish and how pupils learn the language are ignored, as policy continues to pander to the enthusiast above all else.

Everywhere you look, the State is turning its back on its role in the safe-guarding of Irish for future generations, so much so that a few Irish speakers have called for a referendum on the language’s constitutional status.

The outcome of such a referendum, they argue, would put an end to the hypocrisy by either shaming the State into action or endorsing its indifference.

Has it really come to this?

The broadcaster Dara Ó Cinnéide tells a story about a question he was asked a number of years ago in a shop located less than an hour’s drive from his home in the Corca Dhuibhne Gaeltacht.

The former Kerry footballer was conversing in Irish with a colleague when the shopkeeper interrupted them. “Tell me, are there many more of ye back there?” she asked.

There's still a few, but they'd be forgiven if their enthusiasm is waning. Seán Tadhg Ó Gairbhí is Editor of Tuairisc.ie