An Irishman moves into a tiny hamlet in County Kerry walks into the pub and promptly orders three beers. The bartender raises his eyebrows, but serves the man three beers, which he drinks quietly at a table, alone.
An hour later, the man has finished the three beers and orders three more. This happens yet again. The next evening the man again orders and drinks three beers at a time, several times. Soon the entire town is whispering about the Man Who Orders Three Beers.
Finally, a week later, the bartender broaches the subject on behalf of the town. 'I don't mean to pry, but folks around here are wondering why you always order three beers?'
'Tis odd, isn't it?' the man replies. 'You see, I have two brothers, and one went to America , and the other to Australia . We promised each other that we would always order an extra two beers whenever we drank as a way of keeping up the family bond.'
The bartender and the whole town were pleased with this answer, and soon the Man Who Orders Three Beers be came a local celebrity and source of pride to the hamlet, even to the extent that out-of-towners would come to watch him drink.
Then, one day, the man comes in and orders only two beers. The barten der pours them with a heavy heart. This continues for the rest of the evening. He orders only two beers. The word flies around town. Prayers are offered for the soul of one of the brothers.
The next day, the bartender says to the man, 'Folks around here, me first of all, want to offer condolences to you for the death of your brother. You know-the two beers and all.
The man ponders this for a moment, then replies, 'Ahh! You'll be happy to hear that my two brothers are alive and well. It's just that I, meself, have decided to give up drinking for Lent.'
Sure and Begorah!
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 ye?" asks Sian, the bartender.
"Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.
"That little shit, O'Conner," says Sian, "He couldn't do that to ye, he must have had something in his hand."
"Aye. That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gi' me with it."
"Well," says Sian, "Ye should have defended yourself, didn't ye have something in yer hand?"
"That I did," says Paddy. "Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."
Tippin' a few...
An Irishman who had a little too much to drink is driving home from the city one night and, of course, his car's 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."
*************************************************
May the roof over your head be always strong.
And may you be in heaven half an hour
before the devil knows you're dead.
No comments:
Post a Comment