March 17, 2016

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!

I hope you have enjoyed the stories that have come from the Emerald Isle. While I try to find some new ones every year, today is the day I share some of my old favorites.

Officer O’Brien came across a crowd of people looking up at a man standing on a ledge.
  “Don’t jump!” emplored O’Brien. “Think of yer children.”
  “I don’t have any children,” replied the man.
  “Then think of yer wife.”
  “I’m not married,” was the reply.
  “Think of yer parents then lad.”
  “I haven’t any parents.”
  “Why then think of St. Patrick!”
  “Who’s St. Patrick?”
  “Jump ya bastard!!”


For a holiday, Mulvaney decided to go to Switzerland to fulfill a lifelong dream and climb the Matterhorn. He hired a guide and just as they neared the top, the men were caught in a snow slide.
Three hours later, a Saint Bernard plowed through to them, a keg of brandy tied under his chin.
"Hooray!" shouted the guide. "Here comes man's best friend!"
"Yeah," said Mulvaney. "An' look at the size of the dog that's bringin' it!"


O'Connell was staggering home with a pint of whiskey in his back pocket when he slipped and fell heavily. As he struggled to his feet he felt something wet running down his leg.

"Please Lord," he implored, "let it be blood."


She followed her husband to the public house.
"How can you come here," she said, taking a sip of his pint of Guinness, "and drink that awful stuff?"
"Now!" he cried, "And you always said I was out enjoying meself."


The American tourist in Dublin had been complaining a great deal about the food.
"Here," he said to the waitress holding out a piece of meat for inspection, "do you call that pig?"
"Which end of the fork, sir?" the waitress asked sweetly.


The Boston taxi driver backed into the stationary fruit stall and within seconds he had a cop beside him.

"Brendan O'Connor."
"Same as mine.  Where are you from?"
"County Cork."
"Same as me......"
The policeman paused with his pen in the air.
"Hold on a moment and I'll come back and talk about the old county.  I want to say something to this fella that ran into the back of your cab."


O'Toole volunteered to take care of his numerous children so that Mom could have an evening out.  At bedtime he sent the youngsters upstairs to bed and settled down to read.  One child kept creeping down the stairs, but O'Toole kept sending him back up.

At 10 o'clock the doorbell rang.  It was the next door neighbor, Mrs. O'Brien.  She asked if her son was there and O'Toole said no.  Just then a little head appeared over the banister and a voice shouted.  "I'm here Mom, but he won't let me go home."


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."


O’Reilly left work early one Friday afternoon. Instead of going home to his wife, he spent the weekend (and his money) partying with the boys.

When he finally returned home on Sunday night, his wife really got on his case and stayed on it. After a couple of hours of screaming, his wife paused and pointed at him and made him an offer,
'How would you like it if you didn't see me for a couple of days?!?'

O’Reilly couldn't believe his luck, so he looked up, smiled and said, 'That would suit me just fine!!'

Monday went by, and he didn't see his wife. Tuesday and Wednesday went by and he still didn't see her. Come Thursday, the swelling went down a bit and he could see her a little out of the corner of his left eye.

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