A little Irish humor

[Gunfyter]

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!"


Irish Miracle:

An Irishman who had a little too much to drink is driving home from
the city one night and, of course, his car is weaving violently all
over the road. A cop pulls him over.
"So," says the cop to the driver, "where have ya been?"
"Why, I've been to the pub of course," slurs the drunk.
"Well," says the cop, "it looks like you've had quite a few to drink
this evening."
"I did all right," the drunk says with a smile.
"Did you know," says the cop, standing straight and folding his arms
across his chest, "that a few intersections back, your wife fell out
of your car?"
"Oh, thank heavens," sighs the drunk. "For a minute there, I thought
I'd gone deaf."


Irish Accident:

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 tellin' 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 Seamus 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 Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at least go
quickly?"
" Well, no Brenda .. no. Fact is, he got out three times to pee."


Irish Predicament:

A drunk Irishman (from the North) staggers into a Catholic Church,
enters a confessional box, sits down but says nothing. The Priest
coughs a few times to get his attention butOle just sits 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.


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'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.
That little sod, 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."