St. Patrick vs. Lent

It was a cool, but sunny March afternoon. The fight had been scheduled for weeks and the two fighters stepped into the ring. In the near corner St. Patrick tipped the scales at little over fifteen stone. He was unshaven and smelling of Guiness. Dressed in Green shorts, with whiskey tassles, he danced a jig, over to his stool and took his seat, while his coach (Lucky Charms Leprochan) and his Trainer (Andy Capp), fanned him with a towel and greased up his face for the coming fight.

In the far corner stood the ever so tired Lent. Having been on fast since Ash Wednesday he looked alert, but somewhat fatigued. He weighed in at a little under ten stone. Rather than shorts he wore the dress of a pilgrim, white sheet and sandles, tied off at the waist. He looked ready for a long walk, but no one in the room believed for a second that he was any match for St. Patrick.

The Pope stood between them, the good book in one hand and holy water in the other. Calling the fighters to the center, the Pope said, "alright gentlemen, Lets have a clean fight. Shake. Return to your corners and come out fighting."

Patrick raised his right thumb to the side of his right nostril, pressed and blew. He repeated on the left side. Clearing both passages and leaving a slightly stain on the sheet draped over Lents body. He put out his gloves and the two fighters exchanged taps and returned to the corners. They both spun, faced each other and slowly moved back toward each other. The crowd was silent. This was not your normal fight. Many were afraid to take sides in the battle, unsure as to what would happen if they took the wrong side. Even the Pope, who stood between them was not sure yet as to who the victor would be.

As the two fighters came to within a pace of each other, Lent fired a quick but punishing blow to the mid section of Patrick and he was down. The crowd stood in disbelief as the Pope counted 1....2...3...4...5...6....7...8. The Pope stood up and raised the arm of Lent and the crowd sunk into a meloncholy. "there would be no drinking tonight".

St. Patrick continued to lay on the canvas, and soon the disbelief turned to concern. Quickly Lent grabbed the holy water from the pope and sprinkled it on the unconcious St. Patrick but to no avail. Lucky Charms the Leprochan came over with some cereal but that didnt help a bit. Andy Capp knelt beside the downed Patrick, bent over him and stammered, "Get up you Light weight!!!" His breath was pungent with guiness and whiskey, so bad you could smell it in the far corners of the room. It was obvious that Andy didnt care who won the fight, for he had been drinking for the whole of Lent.

But then a miraculous thing happened. St. Patrick started to twitch, as he took in long deep breaths of the foul breathed Andy. Andy yelled, "Get the man a Guiness, and a shot of Jamesons" An older preacher reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask of whiskey. Andy grabbed it and held it to Patricks face like sniffing salts. Patrick jerked and then sat up, grasping the flask and taking a long sip. A lovely lass with exeptionally large boosum was helped up onto the canvass. In her hands was a beautifully well crafted pint of Guiness. Once on the canvass she knelt bent over to hand the pint to Patrick. He looked up at the pint and the vision of loveliness that was this angel. He took the pint from her and stood up. The crown went crazy. And everyone looked at the Pope.

The pope took both fighters by the arm, and lifted them both into the air in victory. He then declared that the Guiness and Whiskey had performed a miracle and that the fight was redlared as a draw, and thus, everyone was allowed to both celebrate Lent, while at the same time enjoying the St. Patricks Day feast with meat, beer, and whiskey.

On a side note the Pope did not say whether the young St. Patrick was permitted to woo the fair lass for the evening, but it was assumed that what happens in the Pub, stays in the Pub.

HAPPY ST. PATRICKS DAY......SALANTA.....LETS GET PISSED