Shane MacGowan - thing is, regretably, I would have...

With it being St Paddy's Day and everyone around being pretentious and awful, claiming all sorts of affiliations with the Irish folk, so that they can get off their faces on substandard exported Guinness and the like, and grown men dressed up in gowns handing out Jelly Snakes (which I actually find preferable as at least it adheres to the myth that is the foundation of Paddy's Day)...my thoughts have turned to all things Irish.

Well, not quite ALL things Irish, but some.

There have been a few wonderful, wonderful Irish people in my life: My cousins Catherine, Steven and Phillip and my lovely Heather and Leo who have been present for the majority of the happiest childhood a girl could wish for. On the flip side there has been notably only one really horrid Irish person who shall live on forever as a blip - a mistake if you will, in the history of said Fair Isle; myself for one hoping that she is thrust into a life of damnation and hell, never to sleep another night's sleep; never to taste another well cooked meal (in fact raw, rotting chicken would be too good for her); never to feel the sun on her back (well, that one's a given - she lives in Ireland); never to hear again the chords of a wonderful song (particularly not by Irish Legend Paddy Casey - he is just too good to be wasted on a rancid maggot such as herself)....you get the picture, I have a small amount of residual anger over one Irish encounter of my past - which frankly is not bad and tells me that [broad generalisation] Irish peeps are not to be sniffed at.

Forefront of my thoughts is Mr Shane MacGowan. Sings in an Irish tone, tends to speak rather more like the English (whom he hates, bless him, for no other reason that he can, because he's Irish and the Irish are ALLOWED)...he once said that England was a cold, damp miserable place (or something similar - I may have slightly misquoted there), but the point is that I can see where he is coming from; as we all know: Ireland is being hailed as an honorary Caribbean Island for it's climate and bright outlook...hmmn.

Like Him though. I really do. Don't really know why. I have had appalling taste in men in the past but most choice have been "explainable" if not "understandable". But a few years ago, if Shane MacGowan would have walked into my Local, I DEFINITELY WOULD (have). Black teeth, rotten alcoholic breath and all, I would have feasted on him like a great white on a baby seal (had him for breakfast if you will). I would have smiled and flirted and made innuendos like a whore in the "Biggest Whore In The World" competition. To this day, I am not sure why. I am also not sure why I feel the need to admit such an ugly truth about myself in the public domain...but that's just me.

I do feel that this blog requires illustration with the physical appearance of it's subject so important to understand the What the ****? factor.

Sadly, I still think he looks oddly yummy here. Oh dear. Save me from myself! More importantly, I must display another pic where he looks less disarmingly Sexy.(or is that STILL just me?!). If you look closely at this picture you can see the blackened teeth, but still I err toward that being part of the very rock and roll thing, the punk-esque "don't give a ..." thing.

OK, if this doesn't cure me nothing will:


Shane with his good Mate, Mr Depp. Depp has cheekbones, youthfulness and "mystery" in this picture and looks as though he may have showered in the last decade. Shane has a drunken Leer that says "Johnny is Currently Holding Me Up". I'm sold. Finally. I had to dangle Johnny Depp in front on my nose to do it, but I have cured myself of Shane MacGowan. Phew.

Happy St Patrick's Day though Shane. Once upon a time, I would have, I definitely would.