Guinness. No gimmicks, no shamrocks. Just dark and creamy St. James Gate goodness — bottled with my enjoyment in mind…

Mmmmmmm. Say what you will about the Micks — Christ knows I have — but those potato-eatin’ bastards sure do brew a damn fine draught.

So here’s to ya’, friends. Happy St. Patty’s Day! And keep your paws off me bollocks.

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