- Joined
- Jun 27, 2001
- Messages
- 11,622
- Reaction score
- 333
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 61
- Location
- An alternate reality.
An Irishman, Englishman and Scotsman go into
a pub and each order a pint of Guinness. Just as
the bartender hands them over, three flies buzz
down and one lands in each of the pints.
The Englishman looks disgusted, pushes his pint
away and demands another pint.
The Scotsman picks out the fly, shrugs, and
takes a long swallow.
The Irishman reaches in to the glass, pinches the
fly between his fingers and shakes him while yelling,
"Spit it out, ya bastard! Spit it out!"
*****************************************************************
An Irish Fight:
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???Connor and me had a fight," says Paddy.
"That little sod, O???Connor," 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."
*****************************************************************
Irish Cemetery:
Three Irishmen, Paddy, Sean and Seamus, were stumbling
home from the pub late one night and found themselves on
the road which led past the old graveyard.
"Come have a look over here," says Paddy, "It's Michael
O'Grady's grave, God bless his soul. He lived to the ripe old age of 87."
"That's nothing," says Sean, "here's one named Patrick O'Tool,
it says here that he was 95 when he died."
Just then, Seamus yells out, "Good God, here's a fella that got
to be 145!"
"What was his name?" asks Paddy.
Seamus stumbles around a bit, awkwardly lights a match to see
what else is written on the stone marker, and exclaims,
"Miles, from Dublin."
a pub and each order a pint of Guinness. Just as
the bartender hands them over, three flies buzz
down and one lands in each of the pints.
The Englishman looks disgusted, pushes his pint
away and demands another pint.
The Scotsman picks out the fly, shrugs, and
takes a long swallow.
The Irishman reaches in to the glass, pinches the
fly between his fingers and shakes him while yelling,
"Spit it out, ya bastard! Spit it out!"
*****************************************************************
An Irish Fight:
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???Connor and me had a fight," says Paddy.
"That little sod, O???Connor," 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."
*****************************************************************
Irish Cemetery:
Three Irishmen, Paddy, Sean and Seamus, were stumbling
home from the pub late one night and found themselves on
the road which led past the old graveyard.
"Come have a look over here," says Paddy, "It's Michael
O'Grady's grave, God bless his soul. He lived to the ripe old age of 87."
"That's nothing," says Sean, "here's one named Patrick O'Tool,
it says here that he was 95 when he died."
Just then, Seamus yells out, "Good God, here's a fella that got
to be 145!"
"What was his name?" asks Paddy.
Seamus stumbles around a bit, awkwardly lights a match to see
what else is written on the stone marker, and exclaims,
"Miles, from Dublin."
