I hadn’t intended to say things about St Patrick’s Day, not being Irish, a fan of Guinness, or small men with ginger beards, but when I saw the effort Stickman had gone to, I couldn’t really ignore it.
Just look at him.
I am a little concerned that he’s started drinking Guinness so early, as it’s well-known that Stickman can’t really handle his liquor, but I’m hoping he’ll remain sensible and we won’t have to go through the ridiculous palaver that St Patrick’s Day always turns out to be.
Listener, last year I took him to see Riverdance. He got so drunk in the bar beforehand he stormed the stage, tried to join in, and passed out. I was literally mortified.
Then the year before we went to a house party, and needless to say Stickman got stuck into the black stuff. After several pints – which is several more than he can handle – the following incident occurred. (Unfortunately, I was unable to intervene as I myself had got rather inebriated and was gorging on the host’s secret supply of crumpets, as I am wont to do.)
Needless to say I was very embarrassed when a fellow party-goer rushed into the kitchen, where I had my face in a plate of hot buttered crumpets, and relayed the whole sorry episode to me. I took Stickman home and put him to bed with an Aspirin. I suppose it’s my fault for not having the ‘leprechaun talk’ with him at a younger age.
Then of course there was the year that Stickman went totally over the top with the whole wearing green clothes thing, and unfortunately several dimwitted Sunday drivers mistook him for a giant green light.
Not forgetting the year I took him to the largest collection of four-leaved clovers in the world, and, due to the fact that Stickman was feeling a little down on his luck – he had squandered a considerable amount of money on gambling, drink, drugs and stickwomen – he thought it would be a good idea to eat the entire collection of priceless four-leaved clovers.
Now, listener, I don’t know whether you’ve ever consumed fifty kilograms of clover. That’s a lot of clover. Even a dainty nibble on just a couple of leaves can leave a bitter taste in the mouth, so can you imagine what fifty kilograms of clover does to a man? And, moreover, a man made of stick?
I was scooping him off the walls for eight hours, listener. And I had to pay the owner of the collection £3,000,000,000,000 in compensation, which is a fair old amount, and I don’t have that sort of money lying round, listener; so I was forced to sell my body and within two weeks I had made £50, and then I robbed a bank, so was able to pay up.
Fortunately, stickmen heal quickly, and even though he was a rather sickly shade of green for several months, he made a full recovery.
So, hopefully, this year will be different. I’ve planned a nice day out at the St Patrick’s Day parade, followed by a hearty bowl of Irish stew at a local pub, and lots of jolly folk dancing and singing, and we’ll all be in bed by 11pm, happy, a little tipsy, and thoroughly delighted with how well the day went.
Come on then, Stickman, let’s get you out and…
Oh for feck’s sake.
BECKY SAYS THINGS 
By the time Stickman was mistaken for a traffic light, I had tears (of laughter) rolling down my face. Good grief, you tell fine stories. I do wish you better luck this year, though looks like Stickman doesn’t make it easy for you. Does he have no other stickfriends he can hang with and leave you to your peace even if just for a short while?
Unfortunately, he’s ostracised himself from most of his friends because they became fed up with his drinking and generally despicable behaviour. A stick can only take so much. He’s passed out in bed as we speak, and I’m eating Irish stew alone in front of the television. Unbelievable.
P.S Thank you! 🙂
At least you got some Irish stew in–was it good?
It was tremendous which at least made up for the debacle of Stickman.
I love your stickman stories. 😆 Every time I read your blog, I tell myself that I should draw (paint) occasionally on my blog. But then…it’s so much work. And you’re so good at it, that I probably shouldn’t even bother. 😀
Do it! It’s easy! All you need is Microsoft Paint, a mouse and a steady hand! 🙂
And time! Lol. 😉
Hope Stickman don’t wake up looking too green in the morning!!
Stickman is in a right old mess this morning. He’s hungover, in a foul mood, and currently stuffing his face with fried egg sandwiches. It’s a sorry sight.
When I was looking through my reader, I was hoping to see a post by you and I wasn’t disappointed. 😀 Stickman is more of a man than I, I hate Guinness, it takes like a cross between rust and cough drops. Last year on Saint Paddys day someone asked me to down a pint of Guinness, it went down in four seconds and came back up in three.
Hahahaha, Guinness is evil devil’s tar. It should be used to stick roads together.
Fifty pounds is a tidy sum for two weeks. I don’t even want to tell you what it took for me to earn the Canadian equivalent in beaver pelts. I say if Stickman goes on an adventure again this year you just put a head cam on him and sell the rights to reclaim his losses.
That is such a good idea. I don’t want to go through the whole selling my body thing again – it’s time-consuming, degrading and can quite often involve a lot of travel and I get car sick, so it’s not an ideal solution.
Poor little stickman…he really is the social stickfly…get it? I hope you had a fun St. Patty’s celebration with Stickman! He looks like he’s a little out of control, Becky.
Oh, he is out of control all right. I’m mortified by him half the time. I think the fame got to him a bit, to be honest.