St Puddings Day - yet another masquerade

"top o der marnin" as they say over in the emerald isle.
Emerald my eye.
The green is nothing more than the 40,000 year build up of fungus thats grown on the spilt gravy from a large meat n tatey pie transporter that had a major propulsion failure due to being over loaded with a hearty crop of finest spuds and plummeted back to earth off the west coast of england.
More commonly known now as Ireland but back when mr cromagnon was striking chunks of rock together to make fire, that island was called Pieland.
This mass of festering puss soured the land and was the major cause of the great potato famine of the 1800's.
St Pudding came along to bring enlightenment to the Emerald isle and promised to drive the remnants of the crusty critters from the shores but alas, he was nearly eaten by a marauding mutated liver n onion slice in a flaky pastry wrap so he hot footed it back across the water to Wales.
He was never the same again and was plagued by nightmares for the rest of his life. He walked around the country telling his story, but no one believed him.
Mick Stupp the local guide in ballynytus, county tyrone often conducts tours for visitors and recounts the tales of woe and depths of depression that befell St Pudding.
His friend, Mick Sterbs, the florist has a collection of notes supposedly written down by St Pudding at the time of his nightly outbursts, a few are written here:
"dead on"
"so ye arr"
"like eye"
Everyone a modern classic
Eventually he changed his name to Patrick.
Those pies have a lot to answer for.