Thought for today:
"On this glorious day of the 17th, March, as an Irish-born man who now lives in Haworth, I wish all my family and friends a very happy Saint Patrick's Day.
There were some disadvantages to being Irish as I grew up, but such were always greatly outweighed by the advantages I encountered. I don't why, but all the Irish seem to enjoy attending funerals. I've even known some travel five or ten miles just to have a good day out at the funeral of some stranger, followed by attending the reception and get together afterwards. I'll never forget the first Irish funeral I attended as a child and in particular, the words that the priest conducting the ceremony used to describe the man being buried.
As the coffin was lowered into the ground, the deceased was described as having been 'a saint, a scholar and a gentleman.' A large part of me regretted never having known this great man. Over the years that followed, I attended numerous Irish funerals. I was almost eleven years old before I realised that every Irish man I'd ever seen buried had been described by the priest conducting the burial as having been 'a saint, a scholar and a gentleman!' It would seem that these words can be purchased from the priest conducting every Irish funeral for a mere €20.
So there you have it, you English folk. All Irish men are born, live and die superior to other nationalities. Saint Patrick himself must have truly worked his miracles when he converted every man in dear old Ireland to saints, scholars and gentlemen. Isn't it just a shame that he did nothing to change the weird and wild ways of the Irish woman, who let me tell you, no English man will ever be able to tame and turn into an English lady.
The Irish have always been known for their pragmatism; their ability to blow with the wind, especially when they need to urinate on an open moorland on a windy day. Here is a little story to demonstrate this national trait:
THE IRISH PROSTITUTE
An Irish daughter had not been home for over five years. Upon her return, her father cursed her heavily.
'Where have ye been all this time, child? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line? Why didn't ye call? Can ye not understand what yer put ye poor old mother through?'
The girl, crying, replied, 'Da...I was scared to show my face in my hometown again...you see... I became a low-down dirty prostitute.'
'Ye what!? Get out a here, ye shameless harlot! Ye hussy, ye sinner! You're a disgrace to this Catholic family. Get out and never show your face 'round here again! You're no daughter of mine. Begone with ye!'
'OK, Da... as ye wish. I only came back to give Ma this luxurious fur coat, and a title deed to a ten-bedroom mansion; plus a five million euros savings certificate. For me little brother, I have this gold Rolex and for ye Da, who could never afford a car, there's the sparkling new Mercedes limited-edition convertible that's parked outside, plus a ten-year membership to the country club of your choice. I'd also like to extend an invitation for ye all to spend New Year's Eve on board my new yacht in the Riviera. Ye could have a cracking time and I'd make sure ye be back home for St Patrick's Day by first-class travel.'
'What was it ye said ye had become?' asked her father.
'A prostitute, Da!' the girl cries, 'A low-down dirty prostitute.'
'Oh! My Goodness! Ye scared me half to death, girl! I thought ye said a low-down dirty Protestant! Come here and give yer old Dad a hug. It's fair grand to see you again!"
Happy Saint Patrick's day to all my family and Facebook friends. Mine's a pint of Guinness!" : William Forde: March 17th, 2018.
