Special Guest Blogger: Saint Drogo

My mother died during childbirth which was something that i always felt responsible for because, well, i was responsible for it but i was not your average cute child but i did grow into what people would say was the face of a Saint, unfortunately it was a Saint Bernard.
In my teenage years i was stricken with an illness that made me physically repulsive and the townsfolk were kind enough to give me a hut stood far away from them in a field where i wouldn't frighten the children so i gave up all my belongings and deciding to devote myself to God, became a hermit and a shepherd and stayed there on my own for forty years surviving on only barley, water and the Eucharist.
I developed a knack of bilocating which is to appear in two places at once and with a face like mine, i was noticed so i could be in the congregation at Mass and simultaneously appear sitting outside my hut watching the sheep and therefore doubling my boredom in one fell swoop.
One day my hut caught fire and the villagers came running with buckets of water and told me to get out but i said that if the Divine Goodness wants me to escape, he will allow me to and i sat and prayed and several buckets of water later i was sat amidst the smoldering remains of my hut with barely a singed smock so took that as sign that i had been spared.
My hut was rebuilt and on my death i was handed the Patronage of unattractive people but beauty is in the eye of the beholder, which is a pity, because i would regularly receive letters from the Association of Beholders to tell me that I had a face like a sack full of dented bells.
I now regularly receive prayers from young people to say they have a party coming up and can i keep away any pimples or cold sores which i am fine with, it's the requests to make sure that i try and make them look as little like me as possible that sting.