My Dear Public,

Another St. Patrick's Day has passed me by.

There is something quintessentially Irish about me. I get this a lot – being a ginger and so on, and having moderate-to-severe anger management issues. I also can't get enough taters, no matter how many there may be on offer.

Despite this, I am not to be found in the pubs on St. Patrick's Day. Instead, I lie under a rocking chair with my tail curled up around my sleeping form for safety. I don't know what this says about me. I don't know what it says about society. I just know that the milk I'm drowning my sorrows in isn't Irish.

Ever thine,

Marvin Quincy Longbody-Horriblekitten