Blow Out (and about) // St Patrick’s Day: a blessing and a curse. Blessing? Guinness. Curse? Guinness hats.

My parents have this pen by the phone that one of their lame friends obviously impulse bought them back from a trip to Ireland. It’s big and green with a hairy leprechaun head on the top that plays When Irish Eyes are Smiling in a demonic tinny tone. It scares the bejesus out of me. As does Michael Flatley (he looks possessed), Bono (I’m scared he is going to bore me to death), Guinness hats and anywhere that says ‘wear green, get in free’ on the flyer. If you share these fears and want to cure yourself with immersion therapy, green up and get involved in this load of Irishness.

The Saint Patrick’s Day Parade and Festival: Sunday 13th March. Starting at Green Park you can follow the colourful floats, marching bands, live music and dancing down to Trafalgar Square where there will be a festival celebrating all that the Emerald Isle has to offer with comedy, storytelling and other Irish stuff. Look out for the hangovers in the office on Monday morning dying at their desks in their walk of shame ‘I heart Dublin’ t-shirts.

If you can’t handle the creepy ringlet Irish dancing girls and diddley-iddley-de-de music check out the Up and Over It St Patrick’s Day after Party at Hackney Empire on Friday 18th March.  The Irish dance spectacular that took the internet by storm with their slappy hand dance videos are hosting this night of electro pop and will be doing a live stage show where you can see their mad skills which are totally not lame or creepy. See:

In one of my many attempts to curb my binge drinking I embraced my 1/8th of Irishness and forced myself to like Guinness because ‘Guinness is good for you’. With my extensive experience of drinking Guinness in London I am familiar with the FACT that The Toucan in Soho (19 Carlisle Street) serves the best pint of the black stuff in town. It has about ten Guinness taps, is endearingly shabby and dingy and always packed – which is fine because the best seats are on the curb outside. If you ask for a Guinness and blackcurrant they will hate you and so will I.

Jude Brosnan

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    S’funny, that. I’m scared of those eerie, manic eyed porcelain dolls. And I’ve JUST realised that little Irish Dncer girls are like LIFE SIZED versions of them. Which is why I usually run in fear at their strange stiff0armed dancing. Interestig. I also think Michael Flatley is a perma-tanned twat of the highest order. he’s a midget too, right? An Oompa-Loompa! Anyway, back to the point in hand. I’m half Irish and a disappointment to my family as I don’t drink Guinness. WON’T drink it, more like. little do they know I sneaked out to a Guinness Festival when I was 16 and drank my own body weight in the black stuff. My vomit (and all the rest) was also blacker than a lizard’s gizzard for approximately nine days afterwards. Never. Again.

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