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Padraic Flaherty came home drunk every evening toward ten. Now, the Missus was never too happy about it, either. So one night sh hides in the cemetery and figures to scare the beejeezus out of him. As poor Pat wanders by, up from behind a tombstone she jumps in a red devil costume screaming, "Padraic Sean Flaherty, sure and ya' don't give up you're drinkin' and it's to Hell I'll take ye'". Pat, undaunted, staggered back and demanded, "Who the hell ARE you?". Too that the Missus replied, "I'm the divil ya' damned old fool". To which Flaherty remarked, "Damned glad to meet you sir, I'm married to yer sister."
-Submitted by: Tony Monaghan
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Pat and Mick landed themselves a job at a sawmill. Just before morning tea at yelled: "Mick! I lost me finger!"
"Have you now?" says Mick. "And how did you do it?"
"I just touched this big spinning thing here like thi...Damn! There goes another one!"
* * * * * * * * * *
The Irish attempt on Mount Everest was a valiant effort, but it failed: They ran out of scaffolding.
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An Irishman went for an interview with one of the major blue chip computer companies. When the interview was over the interviewer told him that all applicants had to complete a test.
The interviewer took a piece of paper and drew six vertical lines in pairs of two on the paper and placed it in front of the Irishman. "Could you please show me a clever way to make this into nine?" After thinking for a while the Irishman took the pencil and drew a canopy of leaves on top of the three pairs of lines, and handed the paper back to the interviewer.
The interviewer looked at the drawings and said: "But that is not nine!" "Oh yes it is", said the Irishman with a broad Irish accent, "Tree + Tree + Tree make nine!"
The interviewer handed the paper back to the Irishman and asked him to make it 99. After thinking for a longer while the Irishman scribbled up and down the trunks and handed the paper back to the interviewer. The interviewer looked at the drawings and said: "But that is not ninety nine!" "Oh yes it is", said the Irishman, "Dirty tree + dirty tree + dirty tree make ninety nine." The interviewer was now a bit cheesed off so he decided to do the Irishman once and for all, therefore, he handed the paper back to the Irishman and asked him to make it 100.
After thinking for a considerably longer time the Irishman suddenly grabbed the pencil and drew a little blop on the bottom right hand side of each three and handed the paper back to the interviewer. The interviewer looked at the drawings and said: "But that is not 100!" "Oh yes it most certainly is", said the Irishman with a much broader Irish accent, "Dirty tree and a turd + dirty tree and turd + dirty tree and a turd make 100!!!!!"
* * * * * * * * * *
O'Connell was staggering home with a pint of booze in his back pocket when he slipped and fell heavily. Struggling to his feet, he felt something wet running down his leg. "Please, God," he implored, "let it be blood!"
* * * * * * * * * *
Then there was the Irishman who sued the local baker for forging the Irishman's signature on a hot cross bun....
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What are the best ten years of an Irishman's life? Third grade.
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Two Irishmen met and one said to the other, "Have ye seen Mulligan lately, Pat?"
Pat said, "Well, I have and I haven't."
His friend asked, "Shure, and what d'ye mean by that?"
Pat said, "It's like this, y'see...I saw a chap who I thought was Mulligan, and he saw a chap that he thought was me. And when we got up to one another...it was neither of us."
* * * * * * * * * *
An Irish priest and a Rabbi get into a car accident. They both get out of their cars and stumble over to the side of the road. The Rabbi says, "Oy vey! What a wreck!" The priest asks him, "Are you all right, Rabbi?" The Rabbi responds, "Just a little shaken."
The priest pulls a flask of whiskey from his coat and says, "Here, drink some of this it will calm your nerves." The Rabbi takes the flask and drinks it down and says, "Well, what are we going to tell the police?" Well," the priest says, "I don't know what your aft' to be tellin' them. But I'll be tellin' them I wasn't the one drinkin'."
* * * * * * * * * *
Sean was fishing and it started to rain, so he moved under the bridge for shelter. His pal McGinty saw him and called, "Sean, me boy, are ye afeared of a few spots o' rain, now?"
Sean replied, "I'm not...the fish come here fer shelter."
* * * * * * * * * *
Paddy was trapped in a bog and seemed a goner when Big Mick O'Reilly wandered by. "Help!" Paddy shouted, "Oi'm sinkin'!" Don't worry," assured Mick. "Next to the Strong Muldoon, Oi'm the strongest man in Erin, and Oi'll pull ye right out o' there." Mick leaned out and grabbed Paddy's hand and pulled and pulled to no avail. After two more unsuccessful attempts, Mick said to Paddy, "Shure, an' Oi can't do it. The Strong Muldoon could do it alone, mebbe, but Oi'll have to get some help." As Mick was leaving, Paddy called "Mick! Mick! D'ye think it will help if Oi pull me feet out of the stirrups?"
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The first Irish National Steeplechase was finally abandoned. Not one horse could get a descent footing on the cathedral roof.
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Concerning bagpipes: The Irish invented them and gave them to the Scots as a joke, and the Scots haven't seen the joke yet.
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Murphy was selling his house, and put the matter in an agent's hands. The agent wrote up a sales blurb for the house that made wonderful reading. After Murphy read it, he turned to the agent and asked, "Have I got all ye
say there?" The agent said, "Certainly ye have...Why d'ye ask?"
Replied Murphy, "Cancel the sale...'tis too good to part with."
* * * * * * * * * *
Paddy and Mick were approaching a pub which had been destroyed by an IRA bomb only minutes before. As they passed, a head rolled out of the smoldering ruins and across the pavement before them. Paddy stooped, picked it up and held it for Mick to see. "Shure now Mick, isn't this Sean Murphy?" "No, Paddy, no, it couldn't be. It's an amazin' resemblance, but Murphy was shorter than that."
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Did you hear about the Irishman who was tap dancing?
He broke his ankle when he fell into the sink.
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How can you identify an Irish pirate?
He's the one with patches over both eyes.
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Paddy was picked up on a rape charge. He was placed in a lineup with ten other fellows and the accusing woman was escorted into the room.
Paddy jumped forward, and screamed "That's her! That's her! Oi'd recognize her anywhere!"
* * * * * * * * * *
"Well, Mrs. O'Connor, so you want a divorce?" the solicitor questioned his client. "Tell me about it. Do you have a grudge?"
"Oh, no," replied Mrs. O'Connor. "Shure now, we have a carport."
The solicitor tried again. "Well, does the man beat you up?"
"No, no," said Mrs. O'Connor, looking puzzled. "Oi'm always first out of bed." Still hopeful, the solicitor tried once again. "Well, does he go in for
unnatural connubial practices?"
"Shure now, he plays the flute, but I don't think he knows anything about the connubial." Now desperate, the solicitor pushed on. "What I'm trying to find out are what grounds you have."
"Bless ye, sor. We live in a flat -- not even a window box, let alone grounds."
"Mrs. O'Connor," the solicitor said in considerable exasperation, "you need a reason that the court can consider. What is the reason for you seeking this divorce?"
"Ah, well now," said the lady, "Shure it's because the man can't hold an
intelligent conversation."
* * * * * * * * * *
Tim Kelly was walking therough a dim passageway when someone spoke to him. "Good evenin', Kelly," said the muffled figure. "Don't ye be knowin' your old friend Grogan any more?" Kelly stared at Grogan, whose face was a patchwork of bandages and adhesive plaster. One arm was in a sling and he was leaning on a crutch. "Saints!" cried Kelly. "Was ye hit by a train, Grogan, or did ye merely jump from the trestle?" "It could've been both," said Grogan, "considerin' the feel of it. But the truth is, I was in bed with Murphy's wife when Murphy himself comes in with a murtherin' big shillelagh in his hand, and the inconsiderate creature beat the livin' bejazus outa me." "He did indade," said Kelly. "But couldn't ye defend y'rself, Grogan? Hadn't ye nothin' in your own hand?" "Only Mrs. Murphy's ass," said Grogan. "It's a beautiful thing in itself, but not worth a dom in a fight."
* * * * * * * * * *
As soon as she had finished parochial school, a bright young girl named Lena shook the dust of Ireland off her shoes and made her way to New York where before long, she became a successful performer in show business. Eventually she returned to her home town for a visit and on Saturday night went to confession in the church which she had always attended as a child. In the confessional Father Sullivan recognized her and began asking her about her work. She explained that she was an acrobatic dancer, and he wanted to know what that meant. She said she would be happy to show him the kind of thing she did on stage.
She stepped out of the confessional and within sight of Father Sullivan, she went into a series of cartwheels, leaping splits, handsprings and backflips.
Kneeling near the confessional, waiting their turn, were two middle-aged
ladies. They witnessed Lena's acrobatics with wide eyes, and one said to the other: "Will you just look at the penance Father Sullivan is givin' out this night, and me without me bloomers on!" |
