MANY of these men are forgotten.

They struggle to fit in. The Ireland they left is long gone and the London they tried to make their home has left them behind.

The most comprehensive study into their existence called them 'An Unconsidered People'. Now a film about them has just been released, giving some consideration to the unconsidered.

Kings, directed by Tom Collins, is an adaptation of Jimmy Murphy's play The Kings of The Kilburn High Road and follows the lives of six men who left the west of Ireland in 1977 to work in London. Thirty years on, after the youngest of the six falls under a tube train, the remaining friends gather for his wake and the ensuing dialogue and flashbacks provide an enthralling tale of the Irish emigrant experience.

STRUGGLE

The Sunday Tribune met many emigrants in Irish enclaves such as Kilburn and Cricklewood last week. Some have made it. Others struggle to keep their heads above water and "just drink to kill the pain" brought on by loneliness and a sense of failure.

Danny Maher, director of the Cricklewood Homeless Concern, explains that there are around 250 Irish men living in often squalid conditions in one-bedroom flats in the Cricklewood area. These men are single, mostly aged between 45 and 60.

Many of them have serious mental health and drink problems and their life expectancy is just 46 because of alcohol.

"It's sad to say but the key meeting place for many of them is the funeral, " says Maher. "It is really like Waiting for Godot.

It doesn't matter how badly off they are; they will always keep a good suit so that they can look well at the funerals.

"Even though some of them have been in London for nearly 50 years, they will still say that they are just visiting even though the Ireland they left is long gone."

Debbie Crowe, who works at the coalface with Irish men in Cricklewood, observes that many of them constantly talk about going home, but always find an excuse not to go when arrangements are made for their return, even for a visit.

"Some go home but they come straight back to London as they feel they don't belong at home. I have even taken men back to Ireland, up to their family's homes, only for them to tell me to keep driving when we get there, " she said.

These men went to London to make money and become successful, and when they did not succeed, they were afraid to let their families at home know the truth.

CATHOLIC

Up to 20 men were gathered in a Catholic centre in North London last Thursday.

Strong Irish accents talked about "the poor year Tipp had in the hurling", "Bertie at the Mahon Tribunal" and "checking the spuds". The group meets every morning for tea and sandwiches, and on a Thursday they cook an Irish dinner for themselves. The volunteers who organise the meal believe it fosters respect and gives the men a sense of belonging.

Brian Moylan, an outreach worker at the centre, is extremely vocal about the predicament of London's ageing Irish emigrant population.

"We need to distinguish between loneliness and isolation, " he said. "We were all lonely at some point in our lives, but we were never isolated and that is a recent phenomenon for the Irish in London.

"If I worked on a building site, I might be lonely and cry at the corner of the site, but I wasn't isolated as I had my Irish friends. I shared digs with them and we had the pub, the dancehall and the church.

Those four links that held the mainstream Irish together are now all but gone.

"Forget about 'McAlpine's Fusiliers' and 'The Craic was Good in Cricklewood' . . . it's a load of rubbish. For every successful person over here, there are a lot of people who have failed and have been broken by the reality of emigration. Many of them now lead dysfunctional lives.

They have depression and mental health issues so they just drink to kill the pain.

"The dream of going home to Ireland is gone for them. If emigrants go back to Africa, South America or eastern Europe, they go back as successful men, but Ireland is one of the only countries where the people we left behind are now more affluent than we are. Expectations are high to have a big house and a big car, so if a lot of these men went back they would have nothing and see themselves as failures.

"Guys wistfully and tearfully recall their youth in Ireland but they are afraid to go back there. They are not sure about their ability to relate to the people over there. It's an awful thing to feel alienated from your own people. Even though home is only 50 minutes away, it is a chasm that is impossible to cross for them."

Paddy, not his real name, is in his late 50s and originally from Tipperary. He has been in London since 1968.

"I am confused about going home to live in Ireland, " he says. "I miss the place. I get up at 6am every morning to hear the news from Ireland and I listen to the GAA every Sunday.

"I would like to go home, but I would like to be independent and not dependent on my family there for financial support. I have no education and I have no papers to say that I can do trades so I might not get a job if I went back to Ireland."

In Rose's Bistro Cafe on the Kilburn High Road, most of the customers are 60something Irish men who sit alone eating.

Some read local papers from home, which they can buy from the Asian newsagent nearby. One chops his food into tiny pieces.

It looks as if he is trying to make the meal last longer.

The television is turned up loud in McGovern's bar on the Kilburn High Road at six o'clock for the Angelus and RTE's Six-One News as the exiles who line the bar look on to see what is happening at home. Even though they have made London their home for up to half a century, they are still eager for news from the land of their youth.

The Kingdom is one of the biggest and most popular Irish bars on the Kilburn High Road, and Michael O'Connor from Kerry and Cyril Stewart from Enniskillen are two of the 'kings' in this place. Stewart has been in London since 1966.

"I lived near Wembley when I moved here and I often tell people I came over for the World Cup in '66 and forgot to go home, " Stewart jokes. "I enjoyed working on the buildings because of the 'lump' of cash we would get for a week's work."

Stewart is by no means like any of the characters in the film, but he offers an interesting take on how the London landscape has changed for the Irish emigrant.

"Three of the locals out of this pub have died in the last year. While there is a few Irish here, there are less and less of us. The famous old dance hall, the Galtymore, where we all danced in our youth, has been pulled down."

BUILDING SITES

Sheila's Cafe in Cricklewood was a famous landmark where Irishmen would queue up in the mornings in the hope of being picked by a builder to go 'on the lump'.

"Sheila's is still there and hundreds still queue there in the mornings, " said Stewart. "The only difference now is that they are all eastern Europeans.

Contractors now hire two Polish workers for the price of an Irish man so the Irish man is getting squeezed out."

Michael O'Connor is one of the great characters in The Kingdom bar. "I left the highest house in Ireland, my home place in Macgillycuddy's Reeks, in 1973 to come to London and I have lived here since, " he said. "The only way I would ever move home now would be if I won the lottery."

Economic necessity forced most emigrants away from Ireland and while they have all got wind of the boom back home, the time for returning is gone.

Catherine Dunne, author of An Unconsidered People, argues that "the ten-shilling notes that were sent from Kilburn and Cricklewood became the foundations of our so-called Celtic Tiger economy".

The Irish in London struggle to fit into the pigeonholes created by David McWilliams. Since 2003, government funding for emigrant bodies has quadrupled from 3m to almost 12m last year under the Irish Emigrant Groups programme.

In Cricklewood, Danny Maher is resolute.

"We need to get more funding and more Irish outreach workers over here who understand these men, who can work with them and help them. Irish people are not coming to London any more so in 15 years' time, those who remain will have passed away."

In the meantime, we should not forget about them.