An Irish priest and a Rabbi found themselves sharing a compartment
on a train. After a while, the priest opened a conversation by saying
"I know that, in your religion, you're not supposed to eat pork...Have
you actually ever tasted it?
The Rabbi said, "I must tell the truth. Yes, I have, on the odd occasion."
Then the Rabbi had his turn of interrogation. He asked, "Your religion, too...I know you're suposed to be celibate. But...." The priest replied, "Yes, I know what you're going to ask. I have succumbed once or twice."
There was silence for a while. Then the Rabbi peeped around the newspaper he was reading and said, "Better than pork, isn't it?"
A cop pulled up two Irish drunks, and asked to the first, "What's
your name and address?"
"I'm Paddy O'Day, of no fixed address."
The cop turned to the second drunk, and asked the same question.
"I'm Seamus O'Toole, and I live in the flat above Paddy."
Pat and Mick landed themselves a job at a sawmill. Just before
morning tea Pat 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.
Then there was the Irishman who sued the local baker for forging the Irishman's signature on a hot cross bun....
Two Irishmen met and one said to the other, "Have ye seen Mulligan
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."
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?"
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?"
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."
"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."
"Paddy," asked the barmaid, "what are those two bulges in the front of your trousers?" "Ah," said Paddy. "They're hand grenades. Next time that queer O'Flaherty comes feeling my balls, I'll blow his bloody fingers off!"
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
Eventually she returned to her home town for a visit and on a 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!"
Tim Shandy stepped into the Warm Spoon, a popular Galway tavern. To
Mike Callahan, the barkeep, Shandy said, "Mike, I'll be havin' three
Callahan set up three glasses and began to pour. "Now, Timothy, it's not the usual thing for you to ask for three whiskeys. It's celebratin', you are.
"Ahh, ye know me too well, Micheal, ye do. Truth, and I'm celebrating me first blow job."
Callahan smiled benevolently and set a fourth glass on the bar. "Now, that's special," he said. "For an old customer like y'rself, here's a fourth on the house, so I may be sharin' your celebration with you."
Shandy shook his head, and replied "'Tis verra kind of ye, Micheal, but I'm thinkin' if three won't get rid of the taste, four won't either."
A SHAGGY DOG JOKE
Two guys in a bar......... One says
"Did your hear the news - Our mate is dead!"
"My God, what happened to him?"
"Well he was on his way over to my house the other day and when he arrived outside the house he didn't brake properly and boom - He hit the pavement and the car flips up and he crashed through the sunroof - Went flying through the air and smashed through my upstairs bedroom window."
"Jaysus, what a horrible way to die!"
"No no, he survived that, that didn't kill him at all. So, he's landed in my upstairs bedroom and he's all covered in broken glass on the floor. Then, he spots the big old antique wardrobe we have in the room and reaches up for the handle to try to pull himself up. He's just dragging himself up when bang, this massive wardrobe comes crashing down on top of him, crushing him and breaking most of his bones."
"Sweet Jesus, what a way to go, that's terrible!"
"No no, that didn't kill him he survived that. He managed to get the wardrobe off him and crawls out onto the landing, he tries to pull himself up on the banister but under his weight, the banister breaks and he goes falling down on to the first floor. In mid air, all the broken banister poles spin and fall on him, pinning him to the floor, sticking right through him."
"Christ, now that is the most unfortunate way to go!"
"No no, that didn't kill him, he even survived that. So he's on the downstairs landing, just beside the kitchen. He crawls in to the kitchen, tries to pull himself up on the cooker, but reached for a big pot of boiling hot water, whoosh, the whole thing came down on him and burned most of his skin off him."
"Man, what a way to go!"
"No no, he survived that, he survived that ! He's lying on the ground, covered in boiling water and he spots the phone and tries to pull himself up, to call for help, but instead he grabs the light switch and pulls the whole thing off the wall and the water and electricity didn't mix and so he got electrocuted, wallop, 10,000 volts shot through him."
"Now that is one awful way to go!"
"No no, he survived that, he ..."
"Hold on now, just how the hell did he die?" "I shot him!" "You shot him? What the feck did you shoot him for?" "He was wrecking my fecking house."
Here's an oldie for you...
An executive was in a quandary. He had to get rid of one of his staff. He had narrowed it down to one of two people, Debra or Jack. It would be a hard decision to make, as they were both equally qualified and both did excellent work. He finally decided that in the morning whichever one used the water cooler first would have to go. Debra came in the next morning, hugely hung-over after partying all night. She went to the cooler to get some water to take an aspirin and the executive approached her and said:
"Debra, I've never done this before, but I have to lay you or Jack off."
Debra replied, "Could you jack off, I have a terrible headache."
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