So we are on the wind-up to Paddy’s Day.
Pubs throughout the country are doubling their stock in anticipation of one massive drunken orgy.
Nothing wrong with that.
The latest fad to sweep the world is to light things up with a green light in honour of our Paddy. I’m not quite sure what the real point of this is. Our Minister for Tourism – The Idiot Varadkar – reckons “this initiative will significantly raise Ireland’s profile”. No it won’t, you fucking twat. It will make people look at Table Mountain or the Leaning Tower of Pisa or whatever and wonder why it’s turned green.
I confess I am slightly bemused by the way the whole world seem to want to grab our National Holiday. After all, no other country can claim the same honour. We don’t give a flying fuck about St George’s Day or Independence Day or any other day for that matter so what is so fucking special about March 17th?
Don’t get me wrong. I have no problem with the entire world getting hammered and it has the added benefit of setting the Righteous Puritans into a fucking feeding frenzy [nice drop of alliteration there?] and will set them roaring about how
work is the curse of the drinking classes drink is the curse of the working classes. Doubtless it will lead to international calls for the abolition of alcohol altogether. Anything that worries the Righteous Puritans is a good thing, in my book. With a bit of luck a few will have painful heart attacks and die.
The other good thing about Paddy’s Day is that it is officially the start of the tourist season here. [It starts on March 17th but never ends, which is a strange paradox?].
Time to polish up the rifle and stock up on ammo, methinks.