Long ago, when men cursed and beat the ground with sticks, it was called witchcraft. Today, it's called golf.
The room was full of pregnant women with their partners. The Lamaze class was in full swing. The instructor was teaching the women how to breathe properly, and was telling the men how to give the necessary assurances to their partners at this stage of the pregnancy.
She said: "Ladies, remember that exercise is GOOD for you. Walking is especially beneficial. It strengthens the pelvic muscles and will make delivery that much easier!"
She looked at the men in the room. "And gentlemen, remember. You're in this together. It wouldn't hurt you to go walking with your partner."
The room suddenly got very quiet as the men absorbed this information. Then Murphy at the back of the room slowly raised his hand. “Yes?" answered the teacher.
"I was just wondering," Murphy said. "Is it all right if she carries a golf bag while we walk?"
Spanish singer Julio Iglesias was on television with British TV host Anne Diamond when he used the word 'manyana.' Diamond asked him to explain what it meant.
He said that the term means "maybe the job will be done to-morrow, maybe the next day, maybe the day after that. Perhaps next week, next month, next year. Who cares?"
The host turned to Irishman Shay Brennan who was also on the show and asked him if there was an equivalent term in Irish.
"No. In Ireland we don't have a word to describe that degree of urgency.", replied Brennan.
McCuen stumbled out of a saloon right into the arms of Father Logan. "Inebriated again!" declared the priest. "Shame on you! When are you going to straighten out your life??"
"Father," asked McCuen. "What causes arthritis?"
"I'll tell you what causes it! Drinking cheap whiskey, gambling and carousing around with loose women. How long have you had arthritis?"
"I don't," slurred McCuen. "The Bishop has it!"
The good Father was warning his listeners about the suddenness of death.
"Before another day is ended," he thundered, "somebody in this parish will die."
Seated in the front row was a little old Irishman who laughed out loud at this statement. Very angry, the priest said to the jovial old man, "What's so funny?"
"Well!" spoke up the oldster, "I'm not a member of this parish."
Six retired Irishmen were playing poker in O'Leary's apartment when Paddy Murphy loses $500 on a single hand, clutches his chest and drops dead at the table. Showing respect for their fallen brother, the other five continue playing standing up. Michael O'Conner looks around and asks,
"Oh, me boys, someone got's to tell Paddy's wife. Who will it be?"
They draw straws. Paul Gallagher picks the short one. They tell him to be discreet be gentle, don't make a bad situation any worse.
"Discreet??? I'm the most discreet Irishmen you'll ever meet. Discretion is me middle name. Leave it to me."
Gallagher goes over to Murphy's house and knocks on the door. Mrs. Murphy answers and asks what he wants. Gallagher declares:
"Your husband just lost $500 and is afraid to come home."
"Tell him to drop dead!" says Murphy's wife. "I'll go tell him." says Gallagher.