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When Irish Eyes Are Smiling...
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Thursday, 27 March 2008 09:47 |
Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.
“What happened to you?” asks Sean, the bartender.
“Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight,” says Paddy.
“That little jerk, O'Conner,” says Sean, “He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand.”
“That he did,” says Paddy, “a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it.”
“Well,” says Sean, “you should have defended yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?”
“That I did,” said Paddy. “Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight.”
****
Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door.
“Brenda, may I come in?” he asks. “I've somethin' to tell ya.”
“Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim. But where's my husband?”
“That's what I'm here to be telling ya, Brenda. There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery..”
“Oh, God no!” cries Brenda. “Please don't tell me.”
“I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry.”
Finally, she looked up at Tim. “How did it happen, Tim?”
"It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout and drowned.”
“Oh my dear! But you must tell me truth, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?”
“Well, Brenda... no. In fact, he got out three times to pee.”
****
A drunk staggers into a Catholic Church, enters a confessional booth, sits down, but says nothing.
The Priest coughs a few times to get his attention but the drunk continues to sit there.
Finally, the Priest pounds three times on the wall.
The drunk mumbles, “ain't no use knockin, there's no paper on this side either!”
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