Hi folks,
Saint Brigid here, absolutely delighted to be taking part in Her.ie’s diary series.
I’m actually quite a private person so this is weird for me, but I’ll do my best.
So, a bit about me: My surname is actually Jones. That film stole my name and I’m still livid. I’m a patron saint of Ireland. Not a lot of people know that because Saint Patrick is the only one that gets a big parade and an internationally celebrated day. Well let me tell you about Saint Patrick, he’s a snake. He used to go out with my best friend Tracy and he was apparently doing the dirt on her for their ENTIRE two-week relationship. She found out on Facebook. It was desperate.
Anyway, growing up was grand. I was a saint so people obviously treated me a bit differently. The girls in school were such bitches. Saint Frigid they’d call me. So what? I’d much prefer to be frigid than a HUSSY. Some of the girls in my year were so promiscuous, it’d make you sick. Have some dignity girls – if he loves you, he’ll wait! I wasn’t even that Frigid, I was only codding them.
A movie I can’t stand is Bridget Jones’s Diary. It’s so unrealistic. First, the spelling of Bridget is incorrect. Secondly, no way in your right mind would you choose Colin Firth over Hugh Grant. HE’S A LASH. I found the knickers scene incredibly disturbing and frankly, quite far-fetched. She gives Brigids a bad name and I’ll never forgive Renée Zellweger for that, as long as I live.
Made a Bridget’s Cross – LOL!
I’d like to use this diary entry to dispel a few saint myths. It’s not all boring law-abiding stuff. I’ve broken the speed limit while driving, watched pornography and even skipped mass on a Sunday morning. If anything, I’m a divil. I dabble in online poker from time to time, I’ve sung along to 50 Cent’s explicit lyrics and even bought drink for teens that were loitering outside my local Centra. IDGAF.
I was arrested for starting a fight in a Chinese in Drogheda one night. I asked for Dim Sum, but they gave me Yuk Sung instead, so I started crying, then graffitied the walls. Anyone else would’ve done the same!
If one more gobshite primary school kid butchers my St. Brigid’s Cross, I swear to God, I’m going to lose my reason. It’s the teachers I blame. They’re forcing their haphazard ways on the youth of today and it’s ruining my reputation and craftsmanship. It’s supposed to be woven from rushes, not woven in a rush. If you’re going to do it, do it right. Parents need to clamp down on this malpractice as well. Don’t encourage your child’s shoddy workmanship by pinning it to the fridge. If the cross is garbage, put it in the bin and reprimand your son or daughter. If society is to advance, we need to stop rewarding mediocrity.
Right, I’ve a Chinese on the way (Dim Sum this time, hopefully!) and I’m just going to stick on Made In Chelsea for the evening. It’s MY day after all! Hope you’ve enjoyed this diary entry. Thanks again to the gals at Her.ie for having me, it’s been a privilege and an honour.
Talk soon,
Saint Brigid x
