Yes, it's Paddy's Day again! Time for everyone to pretend they have any kind of connection with the Irish, as an excuse to dress in green and get utterly mullered on Guinness.
It's also time for the very welcome return of these two lovely laddies - with the fanciest footwork and the bulgiest trouser-fronts the Emerald Isle has to offer!
Sláinte!
Happy Paddy's Day to all our Irish chums!
It is, however, also return-to-work day, so none of "the black stuff" nor "the amber nectar" for us, more's the pity...
Ah, well - on this Tacky Music Monday, I have a perfect antidote to all that gloom. Ireland's finest "crazy chicken twins" Jedward!
[Yes, I would. Both at the same time.]
Have a good week, dear reader - and:
“May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head be always strong. And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead.”
Would you like some..?
[clockwise from top left: Jamie Dornan*, Cillian Murphy, Colin Farrell, Aidan Turner]
Happy Paddy's Day, dear reader!
By way of a celebration, here are two proud Irish boys, showing off their quite remarkable - ahem - talents...
And here, something a bit tackier...
Myth-busting facts about Paddy's Day "traditions":
I raise a glass of "the amber nectar" - clink, clink!
[*Yes, I know Jamie Dornan was born in Northern Ireland, so is British, but...how could I resist?]
It's "Paddy's Day Eve", dear reader [and yet again; with the long history of this blog, which recently celebrated sixteen years(!) in business, it's understandable, here's a little bit of recycling] - time to wear green and drink stout, I believe.
Just as on previous celebrations, I turn to the marvellous French & Saunders for the most appropriate tribute to all things "Oirish" on this day.Here's their brilliant "Raspberries"...
...and here's the real thing - The Cranberries:
Sláinte ma Cara!
Indeed.
[We still miss Dolores]
We just missed the Ides of March, dear reader...
...but suddenly two more significant calendar dates coincide!
Today is not just St Patrick's Day...
...but also Purim:
Shalom! Slainte!
Nat King Cole, Rob Lowe, Clare Grogan, Rudolf Nureyev, Stephen Gately, Patrick Duffy, Alexander McQueen, Robin Knox-Johnston, Kurt Russell, John Boyega, Rory McGrath, Jeff Banks, Hozier and - erm - Stormy Daniels were all born on this day - but it was also, according to legend [largely promoted by Guinness, as far as I can gather], the date Saint Patrick died.
Of course, we have come a long way from the legendary exploits of a 5th century expatriate Welshman in the Emerald Isle; Paddy's Day nowadays is merely an(other) excuse for a booze-up [albeit, in these COVID times, likely to be somewhat muted again this year].
To celebrate properly however, it's not just about "the wearing of the Green", getting shitfaced on "that black stuff" and trying to do Riverdance impressions (as above) - it's an excuse for a raucous sing-song...
...and for that, as far as such things go, you can't get much better than this "Oirish supergroup"!
On the fourth of July eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
'Twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her
She'd got several blasts, she'd twenty-seven masts
And we called her the Irish Rover
We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides
We had four million barrels of bones
We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs
Seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million bails of old nanny goats' tails
In the hold of the Irish Rover
There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute
When the ladies lined up for his set
He was tootin' with skill for each sparkling quadrille
Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet
With his sparse witty talk he was cock of the walk
As he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance
And he sailed in the Irish Rover
There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover
For a sailor it's always a bother in life
It's so lonesome by night and by day
'Til he launch for the shore and this charming young whore
Who will melt all his troubles away
All the noise and the rout
Swilling poitín and stout
For him soon the torment's over
Of the love of a maid he's never afraid
And old sot from the Irish Rover
We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost it's way in the fog
And that whale of the crew was reduced down to two
Just myself and the captain's old dog
Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord what a shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover
Sláinte, mo chairde!
Britain is marking St Hangover’s Day with shivering bouts of vomiting.The Daily Mash
The holiday takes place after St Patrick’s Day and was first observed in 1517 when Mary Tudor was convinced the hogshead of mead she got for her 21st birthday was tainted with plague.
When she rallied the following afternoon she declared it St Hangover’s Day, suggesting that people use the time for quiet reflection and convincing themselves they are having a heart attack.
Theologian Roy Hobbs said: “St Hangover was a French priest and friend of Joan Of Arc, who he once went on a three-day sesh with to celebrate her 18th.
“He was known for his quick temper, crippling headaches and piercing, bloodshot eyes.”
Jane Thompson, who prays to St Hangover while holding two large paracetamol, said: “Blessed Saint, I beseech you make these precious tablets do their goodly works before my fucking head explodes.”
