Irish Humor…

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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 wee bastard! Spit it out!"

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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."

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Three Irishmen, Paddy, Sean and Seamus, were stumbling home from the pub late one night and found themselves on the road which led past the old graveyard.

"Come have a look over here," says Paddy, "It's Michael O'Grady's grave, God bless his soul. He lived to the ripe old age of 87."
"That's nothing", says Sean, "here's one named Patrick O'Tool, it says here that he was 95 when he died." Just then, Seamus yells out, "Good God, here's a fella that got to be 145!"

"What was his name?" asks Paddy.

Seamus stumbles around a bit, awkwardly lights a match to see what else is written on the stone marker, and exclaims, "Miles, from Dublin.”

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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."

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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."

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Mary Clancy goes up to Father O'Grady's after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears. He says, "So what's bothering you, Mary my dear?"

She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news. My husband passed away last night."

The priest says, "Oh, Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, Mary, did he have any last requests?" She says, "That he did, Father..."

The priest says, "What did he ask, Mary?"

She says, "He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun...'"

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A drunk staggers into a Catholic Church, enters a confessional box, sits down but says nothing. The Priest coughs a few times to get his attention but the drunk 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".

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Murphy approached Mulligan's bar. On the step outside a nun, Sister Marie, accosted him and said: 'Surely a fine man like yourself is not going into this den of iniquity? Surely you're not going to waste your hard-earned cash on the devil's brew. Why don't you go home and feed and clothe your wife and children?'

'Hang on, Sisters,' spluttered Murphy. 'How can you condemn alcohol out of hand? Surely, it's wrong to form such a rash judgment when you've never tasted the stuff?'

'Very well,' said Sister Marie. I’ll taste it just to prove my point. Obviously I can't go into the pub, so why don't you bring me some gin. Oh, and just to camouflage my intent, maybe you should bring it in a cup not a glass!'

'OK,' said Murphy and into the bar he breezed.

'I'll have a large gin,' he said to the barman. 'And can you put it in a cup?'

'My God,' said the barman, 'that nun's not outside again is she?'

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Reilly is walking through a graveyard when he comes across a headstone with the inscription "Here lies a politician and an honest man."

'Faith now,' exclaims Reilly, 'I wonder how they got the two of them in one grave. '

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Finnegan sells Michael a donkey, some weeks later they met in a pub in Killarney and Michael says, 'Hey, Finnegan, that donkey you sold me went and died.'

Finnegan just sips his Guinness slowly and retorts, 'Bejabbers, Michael, it never done that on me.'

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