Saturday, 17 March 2018

It's St Paddy Day and I hate it

Here I go again time to give Saint Paddy Day a kicking. I am a Welshmen and a Catholic, my granny was a card-carrying member of the Paddy nation but I can truly say I hate this over commercialized celebration with a passion I do, vigorously.

Maybe years ago it was a nice tradition before it become an excuse for one giant green clad piss-up. Saint David’s Day as just pass by with a whimper, a few flags, and other low-key celebrations but today pubs will be decked out as if Cardiff was Dublin not the capital of Wales.

My mum told me green was an unlucky colour and I have steered clear of the colour since 1974 and my green patch pockets.

You can stuff your shamrocks, green beer, and Guinness were the sun don’t shine, and you can also stick “Oh Danny Boy” which will probably be playing on a loop on a jukebox somewhere (written by a Englishman) in the same place. I am sure Saint Patrick would turn in his grave to see what has become of his day. In Chicago, they will dye the Chicago River green and New York City on St. Patricks Day hold a parade and I just ask myself why.

You can guarantee the fake Irish will be out and about drinking Guinness because you must and eating raw potatoes in protest to the hated English. The first drink I ever had was a Guinness and it nearly made me cry it tasted shit and could have put me off alcohol for life. Lucky there were other drinks to be had and Guinness as not passed my lips again since 1976.

There will be plenty of exaggeration of peoples heritage tonight, ‘like my great, great granny once kissed an Irishman’ or my granddad ate a potato and it was from Ireland so meaning I am 100% Irish. You could turn up in some paddy pub dressed as the hated Oliver Cromwell and offer to buy around and you will become life and soul of the piss up.

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