A cunting for the annual Mick-Fest known as St Patricks Day (17th March).
I don’t wish to offend any cunters of Irish heritage. I rather like the Irish, have spent a number of wonderful holidays in their lovely country and admire their literature. They have, however, been total cunts over Brexit, but let’s not harp on about that for the sake of amity. No, this cunting is for the obnoxious, fake horridness of the annual St Patrick’s day celebration, loved by Plastic Paddy’s in the USA more than it is by real Irishmen who just get drunk for the occasion.
Let’s disect this myth of St Patrick. First of all he was not Irish. He was Romano-British, most likely born in Cumbria where his father was a senator and a tax collector. Secondly, he had no cause to love the Irish and did not travel their voluntarily. He was captured by Irish pirates at the age of 16 and probably received daily buggerings from them. Thirdly, as soon as he was able, he fled the Emerald Isle and returned to the relative sanity of late Roman Britain.The clearly PTSD suffering Patrick then heard “a voice from God”, ordering him to return to Ireland to convert the heathen to christianity. In other words, he was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome and, after running away, found that he couldn’t wait to get back to be abused.
Turning to the modern celebration of St Patrick’s Day, from what I have seen in the USA it is an excuse for Americans of dubious Irish heritage not only to get drunk but to utter meaningless stereotypical Irish phrases (“begorrah, tis like the Old Country again, feel the craic, I’ll have another pint of Guinness, curse the Black and Tans, etc.”). They do this whilst dressed like something out of a Dr. Seuss book, in leprechaun outfits and silly great green hats, etc. Morons.
During St Patrick’s day large areas in US cities like Boston and New York become an image of reckless intoxication, with rowdy college students crawling from bar to bar, where everyone is wearing that puce shade of green that proclaims their fake Irishness and public drunkenness, safe in the knowledge that law enforcement is colour blind in the USA (as it is here) and can only see in black and white, not puce green.
If I were Irish I would feel uncomfortable with the stereotypes on display here. And it’s hypocritical – Irish emigres in the USA were despised until Kennedy made the Irish seem cool. Their reception and treatment was worse in the USA than in mainland Britain, where the Irish were accepted as close neighbours and practically kin.
So happy St Patrick’s day – if you like dressing up as an emerald green leprechaun whilst getting blotto and urinating in public. A puce green pile of cunt practiced by cunts.
Nominated by MMCM.
Brilliant cunting in that cunting a holiday means you know what day it will be posted.
Happy St Patrick’s Day
Seeing Chavs and Britscum getting pissed and ‘celebrating’ St Paddy’s Day make me bloody puke.
One: Have they forgotten those Fenian fucks were bombing the shit out of us not so long ago?
Two: Most of the cunts we will see outside pubs in stupid green hats and getting bladdered won’t even be Irish in any way. Any excuse to get drunk and act like knobheads.
Three: How come English chavs celebrate St Partick’s Day more that St George’s Day?
St Pat’s Day is just like Valentine’s Day and Halloween. Tacky merchandise and Poundland tat sucked up by the thick as rhino dung masses. And supermarkets peddling an Irish festival on a par with Christmas. Mind you, ASDA do that with Ramadan and all.
It’s not exactly true to say St George’s Day isn’t celebrated anymore but certainly the Bog Trotters do make a huge thing about St Patrick’s Day.
I think a large part of that is down to the English English haters who infest the institutions of State.
Foreign culture = good
English culture = racist
But St George’s Day is celebrated, I’ve attended the St George’s Day Club in Manchester for many years, there’s around 700 of us who gather at what’s now called the Kimpton Clock Tower hotel and just have a great day celebrating being English, raising a toast to the Queen (I’m talking past tense here) raising money for small local charities and just having a good old drink.
Fuck all wrong with that.
Some years back we ended up in a pub called Peveril of the Peak, anyone from these parts will know it, it’s as Oirish as it gets.
Well we had a proper sing song, Rule Britannia, Jerusalem, God Save the Queen then the Landlady got proper shirty with us saying if we didn’t calm down she’d call the cops. She was Oirish.
So instead of just standing up singing we all got on the tables and chairs and sang even louder.
I think there may also have been a few ‘No surrenders’ thrown in for good measure.
Funnily enough she backed down because we were not for budging.
Been in the Pev a few times when I was a ‘Student Bastard’, found it quite innocuous.
The Henry Royce, in Hulme (I used to live in one of the Crescents), on the other hand, was a right Pie-key Chapel.
Never disappointed by the Whalley, The Red Admiral, or the Spinners – alway a shooting/stabbing at the weekend.
Did you make a donation when the bucket came round?
I can’t stand the reverence for it over here. To anyone who celebrates it but is English I always ask “Why are you doing this and do you think the pubs or Ireland are covered in red and white bunting on St George’s Day whilst serving up Bombardier?”
Liam and Declan outside the job centre see the following advert:
Tree fellers wanted.
That’s no good says Liam, there’s only two of us.
I’ll get my coat.
I just saw old Seamus down at the local newsagent and one of his shoelaces was undone, so I said, “watch out you don’t trip up over your laces, Seamus.”
Seamus says, “yeah, it’s these bloody instructions.”
I said, “what instructions, Seamus?”
Seamus says, “underneath the shoe, it says ‘Taiwan’.”
Serious question, if the potato wasn’t discovered until the 16th century what did the ungrateful Irish fuckers eat before that? And why didn’t they revert to that diet during the famine? You don’t hear the russians moaning about eating coal and digging up corpses for a snack during Stalingrad siege, but I suppose Micks are related to Scousers.
Leaving aside the fact that it is a bit weird asking a serious question on IsAC, God loves an enquiring mind so I’ll try and help you arrive at an answer with a little thought experiment.
First, try and remember what YOUR family ate before they discovered Rustlers burgers and Fray Bentos pies.
Now imagine a world where there is a sudden and widespread shortage of these, and all that can be found are prohibitively expensive to buy and beyond your economic means. Also you can’t nick any, as that results in a one-way trip to the Australian outback.
What would YOU subsist on? Wild Garlic? Now imagine every other cunt is doing the same.
If that doesn’t help, maybe read a book.