Saint Patrick’s Day

 Posted by on March 17, 2009  Add comments
Mar 172009
 

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.

What?

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.

  15 Responses to “Saint Patrick’s Day”

Comments (15)
  1.  

    St Patrick didn’t drive all the snakes out of the country to Ibrox cause there was no cars then.
    And when I was in Dublin Zoo, yesterday, there was a snake there. So the church was lying to us about St Patrick and the snakes, I reckon.

  2.  

    I’m surprised at you. You forgot the pyromaniac bit.

  3.  

    A friend once told me that rather than expelling all snakes from Hiberna, Paddy quasi exemplified an ordinary metamorphosis. Noticing my brows forming a question mark, he went on: Did you ever notice that since there are no serpents the emerald island is swarming with priests?

    Anyway, may your landlord’s drawing powers never weaken, tonight. Sláinte!

  4.  

    I never go out on Paddy’s night. Not many people do. The town will be very quiet and many pubs will be closed early.

  5.  

    Surprised. You are not joking, Bock?

  6.  

    You’re correct. I’m not joking.

    I’m at home watching Battlestar Galactica.

  7.  

    It gets better Bock. If you look up St Patrick on Wikipedia, and I know it’s not totally reliable but I really hope this is true, you’ll find the following entry :
    Much of the Declaration concerns charges made against Patrick by his fellow Christians at a trial. What these charges were, he does not say explicitly, but he writes that he returned the gifts which wealthy women gave him, did not accept payment for baptisms, nor for ordaining priests, and indeed paid for many gifts to kings and judges, and paid for the sons of chiefs to accompany him. It is concluded, therefore, that he was accused of some sort of financial impropriety, and perhaps of having obtained his bishopric in Ireland with personal gain in mind.

    The cunt founded Fianna Fail !!

  8.  

    its been a long time since I celebrated St Paddy’s in Ireland, but when I was in college in UCG, it was the best party day of the year – and that’s saying something for Galway. All the fun of race week or the Arts festival but without the tourists.

  9.  

    Jesus Christ, Joe, he’s more crooked than Mother Teresa!

  10.  

    Abdul — The church wouldn’t lie. You should know that.

    Benny — Pyromaniac? Enlighten me.

  11.  

    @Bock – pyromaniac

    I meant the Tara conflagration which spread throughout the island.

    Perhaps a bit fanciful but not without a modern parallel.

  12.  

    i always thought the concept of the trinity came into effect about 600 years after patrick died. have i been wrong all along in thinking the shamrock tale was a load of old bollocks?

  13.  

    You think the rest of the religious stuff wasn’t bollocks?

  14.  

    Freedom will only come to Ireland when the last pol is strangled by the entrails of the last priest.
    And I hope it happens on St. Patrick’s Day on the Hill of Tara.
    XO
    WWW

  15.  

    On St Patrick’s night – St Patrick – the man who saved our immortal souls from the depraved heathens who were worshipping blue bottles and rodents rectums at the time -I went out with the loved one and the Treaty City was like a ghostown… earlier that evening I was speaking to a gentleman in fucking Miami, and he informed that even the Cubans were going around decked out green and white and the town was a hopping and a lepping – they even dyed the cocaine green in homage he insisted. Elsewhere, the Mexicans had a parade in El Passo where they drank long into the night, shooting a few gringo sheriffs in celebration into the bargain. Homer and grandpa Simpson even flew into Hibernia for the day that was in it and got hideously drunk. But back on the mother ship, Paddy trudged home early, with a fretted brow, twisting in his sobriety, the shame of it all.

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