This is my fic for Saint Patrick's Day. I hope you enjoy it.

DISCLAIMER: If I owned Total Drama, the cast would have went to Ireland in an episode of World Tour.

Normally the streets of most Irish cities became deserted a few hours after midday on St Patrick's Day, after the parade is over. However, this year was different. This year a tour bus was speeding down the streets, almost breaking the country's speed limit. A few Garda squad cars were in hot pursuit of the tour bus, and it was not for breaking the speed limit at all.

"You are driving on the wrong side of the road!" Harold shouted at Chef, who was driving the bus. "In Ireland people drive on the left hand side of the road, not the right hand side! Curse your ignorance of the different infrastructural systems of other countries! GOSH!"

"Harold, this isn't helping!" Courtney screamed. "Just shut up and let Chef drive so we won't go to jail!"

"Going to jail in Ireland is not so bad," Harold assured Courtney. "Did you know that the average murder attracts a ten year prison sentence with six of the years suspended? The murderer will serve four years up front, and if he or she murders again, he or she will be compelled to serve the six year sentence that was suspended."

"Even if I went to jail for only one second it would still be detrimental to my chances of ever becoming Prime Minister," Courtney scoffed at Harold.

"Did you know that in Ireland the prime minister is referred to as 'Taoiseach', which is pronounced 'tee-shuck', and that the deputy prime minister is referred to as 'Tánaiste', which is pronounced 'taw-n-ish-ta'?"

"Prison isn't as bad as the media makes out," Duncan interjected, ignoring Harold.

"I take it you've never dropped the soap while you were incarcerated," Noah mused.

Duncan rose up from his seat and pointed threateningly at Noah. "Fuck you, you little cu-"

Before Duncan could go anywhere near Noah, Mal pulled Duncan onto his lap and smirked at Noah. "Oh, Duncan has dropped the soap too many times to count," Mal told the bookworm, inserting his right hand down Duncan's pants, much to the delinquent's chagrin. Noah returned the smirk and Zoey got turned on by that sight.

"Okay, I'll be the one to ask, what happened that caused us to be on the run from the police?" Gwen asked.

"It's called An Garda Siochána!" Harold corrected Gwen. "Curse your cultural insensitivity! IDIOT!"

"Nobody cares, Harold!" Heather scoffed. "But Weird Goth Girl makes a point? Why are we on the run?" she demanded to know.

"Because Irish people are blasphemous infidels who refuse to have St Patrick's Day on the 9th of March!" Trent scowled.

"So is that why you burnt down nine pubs to the ground?" Scott glared at Trent. "And not just because 'the Power of the Nine willed you into doing that'?"

"Not just any nine pubs, but nine pubs in each of the ninth largest urban centres in the country," Trent boasted.

"Way to go, math man!" Anne Maria sprayed Trent in the face with her hairspray eight times. "This is why most of us couldn't find a good spot to drink!"

"Spray me one more time!" Trent shouted.

"SIT DOWN AND SHUT DAFUQ UP, MAGGOTS!" Chef bellowed. "I CAN'T THINK STRAIGHT WITH ALL YA UNGRATEFUL BRATS FUCKING AROUND!"

"Maybe you could concentrate properly if you drive on the left!" Harold snarled. "IDIOT!"

"THAT'S IT!" Chef got up from his seat and grabbed his cane. "TIME FOR A BEATING!"

"What, who's driving the bus?!" Dawn gasped.

Suddenly, the bus proceeded to swerve out of control before crashing into a prison. Everyone on the bus survived, but the crash gave all of the prisoners to incentive to flee and wreck all sorts of havoc downtown. The prison staff scurried after them, with one of the wardens screaming:

"NO! MOST OF THEM STILL HAVE FIFTEEN MORE SECONDS TO SERVE!"

The guards who were pursuing the Total Drama cast noticed that the prison staff needed their assistance, so they changed their focus to the escaped prisoners instead.

"Now's our chance!" Alejandro hissed. Everyone crawled out of the bus and proceeded to run towards the back door of the prison to leave without a trace. When no one was looking, however, Harold ran into the streets where the guards were to berate them.

"You were supposed to be chasing after us!" Harold scolded them. "Curse you incompetence! No wonder the crime rate is so high in this country! GOSH!"

"Alright, fine!" one of the guards rolled his eyes. "Half of us will go after the prisoners and the other half will go after the Total Drama yolks! Move out!" He immediately cuffed Harold.

"This is not fair!" Harold moped. "I am too intelligent to get arrested!"

"Then maybe you should've thought of that before deciding to be a dipstick and throw yourself and everyone else under the bus!" the Garda sneered.

"I had to because you were being idiots!" Harold glared. "And for being an idiot, I shall administrate quasi-judicial corporal punishment on you! HIYA!" He punched the guard in the shoulder.

"Yeah, you are not really helping your case, are ya kid?" the Garda deadpanned. "It's an assault to hit a Garda, you know." He shoved Harold into the police car, trying to ignore Harold's facts about the Irish legal system, Ireland's healthcare policy and Ireland's social policy, etc.

A helicopter landed on the roof of a tall building. Chris McLean stepped out onto the roof and observed his surroundings.

"Where am I?" Chris thought to himself. "Better ask Chef." He got out his mobile phone and rang Chef.

"Hey Chef, have you and the slaves- er, I mean, teenagers, lost the police yet?" Chris asked.

"I think so," Chef rolled his eyes. "Harold wandered off but fuck him! They only way to get the damn police off our backs is to get to Northern Ireland."

"What's so great about Northern Ireland?" Chris demanded. "Other than the fact that's where Game of Thrones is set."

"The police have no jurisdiction up there," Chef explained.

"How can I tell if I'm in Northern Ireland?" Chris asked.

"CHRIIIIIIIS!" Courtney screamed over the phone after snapping the phone off Chef. "I'M SO GOING TO SUE YOU FOR ABANDONING US! YOU'LL BE HEARING FROM MY LAWYERS!"

Chris hung up the phone. "Ah, I'll just ask someone," the host shrugged. He noticed a man picking up rubbish off the concrete. Apparently a wild party must have taken place up on that roof.

"Hey, am I in Northern Ireland?" Chris asked the man.

The man whacked Chris in the head as hard as he could with the broom in his hand, knocking the host out cold. The man hoisted Chris above his shoulder and carried him into the building.

This St Patrick's Day has turned into a St Patrick's Disaster!

Uh oh, what is going on?! Was Trent the only one who caused trouble? Will the rest of the cast get caught? Who is this man and what the hell is he going to do to Chris McLean and why is he doing this?! Find out in the next chapter!

I was planning to make this a one-shot, but then I realised I could make a multi-chapter fic out of this. I'm not sure when I will have the next chapter up, but hopefully very soon.

HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY!