Every year, Paddy’s Day (or Saint Patrick’s Day, to give its proper name) provides an excuse for hundreds of thousands of Irishmen to get off their tits, drinking large amounts of alcohol and indulging in all sorts of drunken revelry.

Of course, it’s well known that the Irish know how to party. For them, it’s all about the ‘craic’.  Apparently. Getting together and drinking as much Guinness and Caffrey’s (God, I love Caffrey’s) as they can; dressing up as leprechauns and jumping in the Liffey (if one happens to be celebrating in Dublin).   Parades fill the streets and the festivities have been known to go on for several days, in some places. Wearing green is – I think – the law, on Paddy’s Day.

But what about the other saints?  Are they celebrated in the same way? What about Saint George, who had his own significant day only yesterday?  For some reason, good ol’ Saint George doesn’t seem to be revered in quite the same vein as Saint Patrick.  And yet, he killed a fucking dragon, for chris’sake.

To go someway toward remedying this situation, my old BT pals and I had a gathering down at our local ‘spoons last night.  Our glasses charged with various English ales, I proposed a toast to Saint George. “To Saint George!” everyone chorused, raising their glasses in the air.

And then we got back to our various topics of conversation – in the main, who had had the biggest operation on their prostate.

I think the English craic and the Irish craig are very different beasts.