From shit pubs to shit “stout” Oirland has given us many things, and St Paddy’s Day is the absolute pits. Every March 17th plastics up and down England get to get dead drunk, shout, swear and sing “rebel songs” from the comfort of a town centre pub, safe in the knowledge Al-Qaeda or ISIL won’t gut them, a guarantee only made true by the hard work of British security services (which they say they hate).

And such is the hypocrisy on display when these lazy ass bastards, who profess to love Oiiirlannnd so much they can’t even be arsed to fuck off and live there and prefer instead to live here and mouth off about how much they “hate the fucking English”.

So we sensible folk look on, pity in our eyes, as these sad bastards – who profess to love their “spiritual home” so much yet will never know the joy of living there – make complete tits of themselves in naff green costumes serenaded by faux-traditional “music”.

One of the worst things about living in England is all the shit foreign customs we get to be “enriched” by, and St Paddy’s Day is the best (worst) example of that.

Nominated by: Colin Murray’s Brain

The fucking bogtrotters export their tedious national day and crappy stout all over the world. What amazes the fuck out of me is how non-Irish cunts lap it all up. Our own national day (Waitangi) passes by with nary a mention. Likewise St. Georges Day or American Independence.

But say the magic words ” St. Patrick” and presto fucking changeo every cunt suddenly thinks they’re in Dublin. Fake, boring and coming to a bar near you soon.

Nominated by: Kiwicunt