This is the day we Irish celebrate the fucking lunatic who talked us out of our free-spirited, fun-loving pagan ways, and replaced them with an oppressive, guilt-ridden, sex-obsessed delusion: Christianity.
Isn’t that a great thing to celebrate?
Some mad bastard over from Wales, waving a bunch of shamrock at us and shouting in Latin. This little plant, he represent the three tenors!
Latin! His family were from Rome but they lived in Wales. I think they ran a chain of chip shops.
Latin. I kid you not.
What’s he saying?
Dunno. Something in Italian.
How the fuck do I know? Something about football, I suppose.
Oh right. Football. Maybe he’s starting a club.
Maybe he is. We’ll all join. It’ll make a nice change from dancing around naked, painted blue and shagging our brains out all night long without a care in the world.
€˜Twill. Football, you say?
It’s a very Irish day, and it has been ever since 1903, when the UK government passed a law proclaiming it a public holiday in Ireland.
And let’s not forget the the very first parade, which was held in Boston in 1761, or the second in New York the following year.
A very Irish day indeed, brought to us by a Welsh Italian maniac, made law by a British government and celebrated by Americans long before we ever thought of it. And then we saw the value of believing all the bullshit about us, and started to paint our own streets green (and not Saint Patrick blue as you might have expected). And we’ll send our fucking fools of Prime Ministers over to the White House every year with a bowl of fucking shamrock.
Shamrock! Did you ever see a more pathetic weed than shamrock? If you found it in your garden you’d spray it with the worst poison you could buy. At least the Prime Minister of Jamaica brings a big bowl of sensemilla on Haile Selassie Mad Bastard Day and they skin up all of it and the whole White House gets fucking smashed, including the President and the guy holding the suitcase with the red button. All they do with our bowl of shamrock is hand it to a Secret Service agent who takes it out the back and throws it on a compost heap. And you know what? We seem to get away with all that fucking bullshit.
Why? How do we get access to the White house like that? Beats the hell out of me, especially when you see the mumbling, shuffling fools we send over there, year after year, to represent us. (Just for a second there, I was going to say speak for us but that’s ridiculous).
What a great bunch of fun-loving rogues we Irish are. That must be it.