5 Stages Of Paddy’s Day Drunkenness

EVER since that sacred first day on which St. Patrick first downed 20 Smiroff Ices before going to town on the snakes, it has been a near permanent battle to find the perfect balance between drinking alcohol and not dying from drinking alcohol and each and every subsequent St. Patrick’s Day.

Try and fight it, but there’s no denying the very clear and separate stages of Paddy’s Day drunkenness that are unique to this very special day:

1) Denial

You won’t be drinking to excess on Paddy’s day as it just plays into the endless cycle of stereotyping Irish people which is something you so dearly detest. €3 billion is spent every year by the State to combat abuse of alcohol, but you’re determined not to be part of that sorry mess. That’s why you’re just going to enjoy the day out, drinking to have fun is ludicrous. So you’ll just space out your drinking over 15 responsible hours.

2) Anger

OK, yes, you’re drinking. There’s a pint in your hand, but at least you’re not in a state like Mrs. can’t stand up straight over there across from you at the bar. Christ, it’s fucking infuriating how people get themselves in such a fucking state. The head on her.

3) 50% of kebab in mouth, other 50% on the floor

No, no one stole your kebab, it’s on your face, in your hair and on the floor. Stop shouting at that child, they didn’t take it. Honestly, they were just minding their own business until you drunkenly stormed in and provided them with their first ever truly terrifying interaction with someone who is heavily abusing alcohol.

4) Is that piss?

I dunno, we left you alone for like 2 minutes, bend down and smell it. No, fuck off, we’re not smelling it. Yeah, that’ll look really good us kneeling down to sniff your crotch in the middle of Temple Bar, no thanks. Here have our jumper, just tie it around your waist, it’ll cover it up. You should probably head home. No, no you’re grand don’t wash it, just burn the jumper when you’re done with it.

5) Depression

Right on queue. It’s always after your second trip to a takeaway, timed to perfection. No, it’s cool, just call in sick. No, obviously your boss isn’t expecting it, it’ll just be like last year when you were honest to God sick. Sure, who would be stupid enough to risk suffering a set back professionally over a night’s drinking, there’s no way they’ll think you’re that stupid, you’ll be grand. Ring your ex there while you’re at it, you’re on a roll.