“Erin go bragh!” or “Ireland till doomsday!”

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“Erin go bragh!” or “Ireland till doomsday!”
Poitin (Irish Moonshine)
I once spent a rainy summer walking through Ireland and stayed for a couple weeks at an inn so isolated that the nearest pub was three miles away. In Ireland that says a great deal. The pub wasn’t really that far, close enough to hear a dog bark, a rooster crow or a mother call for her children – but between where I stayed and where I drank lay a bog. A ditch cut a line through the bog and…
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Happy Saint Pat’s day.
moany was in full effect tonight and pat was so saintly but also heart broken and despite my almost undying affection for the broken and dethroned sausage king i almost felt angry at him for what he did to pat. but not to tony. he can go suck a dick.
helen's setting herself up for heartbreak, rob's a slime ball. but thats old hat.
tom better give his mummy a cuddle when he comes back
pat is a saint
i want to take her away from her husband and give her both her sons and a wonderful life
tom has fucked up awwwww shiiiiit