The next person to wish me a happy St Patâ€™s Day will have their ISP anonymously informed that they download pictures of dogs fucking babies. Iâ€™ve slept with Irish girls and gotten drunk in Belfast, which makes me more Irish than 99% of you â€” and, whoops, hereâ€™s the clue train pulling up to the station, and it says Iâ€™m not Irish and neither are 99% of you so you can stick St Patâ€™s Day up your arse.
If you want to celebrate St Patâ€™s today, eat a raw potato, build a house out of peat and get yourself shot by an Englishman.
And guess what? If you were born in America, youâ€™re not Irish, youâ€™re fucking American. Deal with it.