Don’t you just love St. Patrick’s Day?
It’s the one day of the year where everyone claims some tenuous link to Irish ancestry – like they’ve eaten a potato – and make it their mission to drink copious amounts of Guinness to claim a ridiculously large free hat that they can vomit into at the end of the night.
Well, that’s not quite the definition given in The Oxford English Dictionary but it’s pretty similar.
Ask any of these revellers who St. Patrick was or what he did and they probably wouldn’t be able to tell you through lack of knowledge or unconsciousness.
Probably, the thing he is most renowned for is driving all the snakes from Ireland into the sea. So, presumably, he had a massive lorry?
Quite how he managed to get out himself isn’t mentioned but I’ll presume he either jumped out before hitting the water or swam out from the open cab window.
Historically, snakes have never lived in Ireland anyway, so maybe he just transported some large worms and exaggerated?
My own great grandad came from Cork – so he was lucky not to be tipped upside down and pushed into a wine bottle.
I remember, at infant school, using my Irish O’Connor surname to my financial advantage by pretending to my friends that my uncle was Des O’Connor and charging them 10p for his autograph.
I’d say he was visiting me at the weekend and, on Monday mornings, I would return to school with a handful of personal but totally illegible autographs horribly scrawled by myself.
My friends would often look at me, look at the “autograph” and grudgingly give me 10p whilst asking if Des O’Connor had a terrible drink problem?
Luckily, no one ever asked me why he was still writing with crayons?
So, how will I be celebrating on March 17th?
Probably by drinking copious amounts of Guinness to claim a ridiculously large free hat that I can vomit into at the end of the night.
Just for the craic, obviously.