Another comedy article for your reading pleasure..

ST Paddy’s day

With valentines over and with emotions still running high, what else is there for the Irish person to do but turn to the drink? St Patrick’s Day coming up means only one thing to the average Irish person, drink.

I heard somewhere that Saint Patrick himself wasn’t actually Irish at all, but English. Now if that isn’t a dark irony I don’t know what is. The English however don’t seem to have taken the whole thing in like the Irish did, he is ours and you can’t have him type attitude from us inhibits anyone else claiming him. Being donned the patron saint of Ireland is also a humorous thing. St Patrick would more closely be associated with failing livers, the patron saint of sclerosis. I was reading an article printed in an English magazine the other day and the pull quote was “binge drinking in the U.K is atrocious”, some politician said so anyway. Now when they listed the average amount of alcohol consumed I had to laugh, what they called binge drinking, we called a breakfast tipple.

So out with the shamrocks and tri coloured ribbon badges, floats at 2 o’clock in the parade and the football neatly following. Last paddy’s day was great because I spent it sober and in Manchester. It’s odd that the best parades happen in foreign countries. I asked some foreign national friends of mine recently what was the one thing, which sprung to mind when they thought of Ireland;

“Rain, drink, drinking in the rain, and drinking the rain away” that was one response, but he was as foreign as they get, coming from Tipperary.  I asked another English friend of mine what he thought was the most common thing in Ireland, he said “Mary Harney, common as hell”. I totally disagree with him of course; I think she is a classy bird myself.

But to be honest Ireland is only famous for the Guinness and the craic. That seems to be the international selling tag for the green isle. Now I think it’s funny how Guinness and the craic come in the same sentence, because anytime I have seen Guinness drank in the vast quantities on paddy’s day there is no real craic, just fighting and grown men getting sick into a super mac’s bag. So as I move on into my spiel about this great day I think about all the people of the country mobilizing to their local, or in the case of us travellers, to the pub that would serve us. But thinking about it logically, when people are at a point of drunkenness that even Shane McGowan’s voice sounds credible, they are just about the same amount if hassle to the bar man. Having worked in a bar myself I can tell you that some of the settled community act worse than any traveller. Then again thinking of it like a logical person should, the publicans should be damn lucky anyone turns out to spend a cent in this economic climate.

I remember from when I was a child and going to the town to see the parade. Thinking back it was a typically Irish effort, tractors disguised as monster trucks. And the winners of the parade were the same each year because they funded it. The only decent thing about the parade was when they threw out the free lollipops to the crowds.

So if Saint Patrick isn’t ruining your liver then don’t worry, diabetes from sweets is very much a possibility. And as for his efforts at driving the snakes out of the country, it was all a lie, there’s still a few slithering around Leinster house, come on paddy, get with the programme.

beanz

As well as debating all things topical, i will also post some humour based articles based on my life.

The college boy

“Watch the college boy”, “look at the school boys head on him”, “our little scholar”                                                         “and sure he is only 25”

Those were some of the more memorable comments I have salvaged from brief discussions with the auld fella regarding the ole college situation. Having a father who knew nothing of colleges except that his bosses went to one, meant that me and my school boys head on me had an uphill battle to convince him I’m not a waster. On one hand my father would tell me how travellers would be better off if they got a better education. Then again he would have a seizure if he saw me writing down onto a copy book while I could be out doing some HORSH WORK in the garden.  I remember when I told him that I’m starting college and I am hoping to follow it through until I get a bachelors degree in four years. The look on his face and the way he clenched his chest should have told me he didn’t get exactly what I said. “A bachelor in four years, sure jaysus Christ it’s bad enough your one now, but you have to go and learn how to be one”. I’m sure one day the auld fella will look back and think how I made a good decision to go back to college.

Moving out of the house and away from the parents, sure isn’t that every lads dream. That would be true; however, if you have a fine set of parents like mine, you soon learn that no matter where you’re living, they will know more about what goes on at your house parties than half the people that were actually there. This being my first year in college I have a few things to get used to, one being, having beans for all three of my meals in the day. The way the government has gone lately sure I’d be lucky to find a tin of beans in the supermarket, what with every student in Galway making pre bookings. I never knew how having a loyalty key for every low cost supermarket makes you feel like a v.i.p member. This year especially for students it’s hard. The grant has been reduced, and in my case abolished, destroyed, taken and absolutely tore from my very fragile hands. Saying that, the good old government have told me that their not all that bad towards people in my case. They tell me that I can work part time on the back to education allowance and not have my payment affected. That’s awfully nice of them, sure it can’t be that hard to find a part time job for 20 hours a week during a recession, can it? Politics! Poly- meaning many, and tics- meaning blood sucking parasites. Of course I’m joking here; sure we all know how politics are great.

College for me should mean, getting qualified, and helping other travellers in my situation in the future realise their potential. Nice sentiment, however, it’s hard to tell travellers to get into college when nearly every student in the country is finding it hard to get by. Now, saying that, if I had a choice, I would certainly choose to get better qualified, and learn as much as I can, because one day I hope to see a traveller within the walls of Leinster house, someone who is not there under the careful gaze of security.

Coming to college I knew that there would be some drastic changes in my life. One of the things I didn’t know I would have to change is my taste in music. Apparently, my taste of music isn’t cool enough for the academic heads in college. So I decided I would try to listen to some of what they consider cool, well by Jesus Christ, it sounded like a crow getting attacked by a drunken cat. I think I will stick to my Philomena Begley. So I have a few years left, I’ll be finished my degree course by the time I’m 30 years of age.  The oldest school boy in the family, the little scholar, the college boy, or just the educated one, the one ready to become equally employable.

Education is like a headache, hard to cope with and difficult to overcome, but makes the after effect so much better.  Or something like that......