A Few Irish Jokes . . !

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, someones got 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, not to make a bad situation 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
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Two Irishmen were sitting at a pub having beer and watching the brothel across the street.   They saw a Baptist minister walk into the brothel, and one of them said, "Aye, 'tis a shame to see a man of the cloth goin' bad."

Then they saw a rabbi enter the brothel, and the other Irishman said, "Aye, 'tis a shame to see that the Jews are fallin' victim to temptation as well."

Then they see a Catholic priest enter the brothel, and one of the Irishmen said, "What a terrible pity . . . one of the girls must be dying.

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At An Irish Cemetery 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'Toole.   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 and lights a match to see what else is written on the stone marker, and reads out: "A fella named Miles . . . from Dublin."

Free Drinks . . !

A Scotsman, American, and an Irishman are in a bar.   They are having a good time and all agree that the bar is a nice place.

Then the Scotsman says,  "Aye, this is a nice bar, but where I come from, back in Glasgow, there's a better one.   At MacDougal's, you buy a drink, you buy another drink, and MacDougal himself will buy your third drink !"

The others agree that sounds like a good place.

Then the American says,  "Yeah,that's a nice bar, but where I come from, there's a better one.   Over in Brooklyn, there's this place, Vinny's.   At Vinny's, you buy a drink . . . Vinny buys you a drink.   You buy another drink, . . . Vinny buys you another drink."

Everyone agrees that sounds like a great bar.

Then the Irishman says, "You think that's great ?   Where I come from in Dublin, there's this place called Murphy's.   At Murphy's, they buy you your first drink . . . they buy you your second drink . . . they buy you your third drink . . . and then, they take you in the back and get you laid !"

"Wow !" say the other two.   "That's fantastic !   Did that actually happen to you ?"

"No," replies the Irish guy, "Not to myself now . . . but it happened to me sister !"

The Bingo Card . . !

A young girl from Donegal, Ireland, leaves home to find work in the bright lights of London.

She comes home 6 months later and steps out of a taxi wearing a full-length mink coat.   "Begorrah, Colleen," says her mother.   "Tis a lovely soft coat yer wearin' an' it looks so expensive.   Where did ye get that ?"

Colleen replies,  "Sure now, I won it at the bingo.   Don't they have wonderful prizes in London ?"

When the weekend's over, Colleen returns to the bright lights, but she's back to visit her mom a few months later.   This time, when she steps out of the taxi, she's wearing a beautiful gold wristwatch and a large diamond ring.   Same exchange with Mom . . . same "Won it at bingo !" explanation.

Colleen returns to the bright lights again.   A few months later, she's back.   This time she's sporting a beautiful emerald and diamond necklace with matching bracelet and earrings.   She hands her mother 1,000 pounds and explains that she won it all in bingo.   Then she asks Mom to run her a bath as she needs to freshen up.   When Colleen gets to the washroom, there's only a quarter inch of hot water in the bathtub.

Colleen, a wee bit peeved at her Mom, for being so cheap with the hot water after being handed 1,000 pounds, calls downstairs,  "Mom . . . sure now, didn't I ask you to run me a bath ?   There's only a quarter inch of water in the tub !"

"Indade there is, me darlin," replies her Mom.   "But we don't want ye gettin' yer bingo card wet, now do we ? "

Rear-Ended . . !

An Irishman goes to the Doctor with indigestive problems . . . "Dactor, it's me ahrse. I'd loik ya ta teyhk a look, if ya woot".

So the doctor gets him to drop his pants and takes a look.   "Incredible" he says, "there is a 20 pound note lodged up here."

Tentatively he eases the twenty out of the man's bottom, and then a £10 pound note appears.   "This is amazing!" exclaims the Doctor. ''What do you want me to do ?"

"Well fur gadness sake teyhk it out, man !" shrieks the patient.

The doctor pulls out the tenner and another twenty appears, and another and another and another, etc . . .   Finally the last note comes out and no more appear.

"Ah Dactor, tank ya koindly, dat's moch batter.   Just out of interest . . . how moch was in dare den ?"

The Doctor counts the pile of cash.  "£1,990 exactly !"

"Ah, dat'd be roit,'' says the Irishman.

(Wait for it...........scroll down.)

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I knew I wasn't feeling two grand . . !"

The Flagpole . . !

Two Irishmen were standing at the base of a flagpole, looking up.   A blonde walks by and asks what they are doing.

Paddy: "We're supposed to find the height of this flagpole, but we don’t have a ladder."

The blonde took a spanner from her purse, loosened a few bolts and laid the flagpole down.   She pulled a tape measure from her pocket, took a few measurements and announced that it was 6.328 metres.   She then walked off.

Mick: "Ain't that just like a blonde !   We need the height and she gives us the length !"

The Irish Virgin . . !

In a tiny village on the Irish coast lived an old lady, a virgin and very proud of it.   Sensing that her final days were rapidly approaching, and desiring to make sure everything was in proper order when she dies, she went to the town's undertaker . . . (who also happened to be the local postal clerk) . . . to make the proper "final" arrangements.

As a last wish, she informed the undertaker that she wanted the following inscription engraved on her tombstone:

Not long after, the old maid died peacefully.   A few days after the funeral, as the undertaker/postal clerk went to prepare the tombstone that the lady had requested, it became quite apparent that the tombstone that she had selected was much too small for the wording that she had chosen.   He thought long and hard about how he could fulfill the old maid's final request, considering the very limited space available on the small piece of stone.

For days, he agonized over the dilemma.   But finally his experience as a postal worker allowed him to come up with what he thought was the appropriate solution to the problem.   The virgin's tombstone was finally completed and duly engraved, and it read as follows:

Seamus O’Connell had been drinking at a pub all night.   The bartender finally said that the bar was closing so Seamus stood up to leave and fell flat on his face.   He tried to stand one more time;  same result.

He figured he'll crawl outside and get some fresh air and maybe that will sober him up.   Once outside, he stood up and fell on his face again.  So he decided to crawl the half-mile home.   When he arrived at the door he stood up and fell flat on his face.   He crawled through the door and into his bedroom.   When he reached his bed he tried one more time to stand up.   This time he managed to pull himself upright, but he quickly fell right into the bed and is sound asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He was awakened the next morning to his wife standing over him, shouting, "SO YOU'VE BEEN DRINKING AGAIN !"

Putting on an innocent look, and intent on bluffing it out he said,  "What makes you say that ?"

"The pub just called;   you forgot your damned wheelchair again !"

Irish Last Request . . !

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, did he have any last requests ?"

She says, "That he did, Father..."

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

She says, "He said . . . 'Jaisus, Mary, put down the bloody gun'".

The Sawmill Acident . . ! 

Paddy and Mick are two Irishmen working at the local sawmill.   One day Mick slips and his arm gets caught and severed by the big bench saw.   Paddy quickly puts the limb in a plastic bag and rushes it and Mick to the local hospital.

Next day, Paddy goes to the hospital and asks after Mick.   The nurse says, 'Oh he's out in Rehab exercising'.   Paddy couldn't believe it, but here's Mick out the back exercising his now reattached arm.   The very next day he's back at work in the saw mill.

Couple of days goes by, and then Mick slips and severs his leg on another bloody big saw thing.   So Paddy puts the limb in a plastic bag and rushes it and Mick off to hospital.   Next day he calls in to see him and asks the nurse how he is.

The nurse replies, 'He's out in the Rehab again exercising'.   And sure enough, here's Mick out there doing some serious work on the treadmill.

Within a day or so Mick comes back to work.   But, as usual, within a couple of days he has another accident and severs his head.
Wearily Paddy puts the head in a plastic bag and transports it and Mick to hospital.   Next day he goes in and asks the nurse how Mick is.  

The nurse breaks down and cries and says, 'He's dead.'

Paddy is shocked, but not surprised.  'I suppose the saw finally did him in.'

'No . . .' says the nurse, ' . . . some dopey bastard put his head in a plastic bag and he suffocated.'  

The Stand-In . . !

A doctor in Ireland wanted to get off work and go fishing, so he approached his assistant.   "Paddy, I am going fishing tomorrow and don't want to close the clinic.   I want you to take care of the clinic and take care of all me patients".

"Yes, sir !" answers Paddy

The doctor goes fishing and returns the following day and asks:   "So, Paddy, how was your day ?"

Paddy told him that he took care of three patients.   "The first one had a headache so I gave him TYLENOL."

"Bravo Mate, and the second one ?" asks the doctor.

"The second one had stomach burning and I gave him MAALOX, Sir" says Paddy"

Bravo, bravo !   You're good at this and what about the third one ?" asks the doctor.

"Sir, I was sitting here and suddenly the door opens and a woman enters.   Like a flame, she undresses herself, taking off everything including her bra and her panties and lies down on the table, spreading her legs and shouts:   'HELP ME !   For five years I have not seen any man !'"

"Tunderin' Lard Jesus Paddy . . . what did you do ?" asks the doctor.

"I put drops in her eyes . . . !"

The Leprechaun . . !

In a little village in southern Ireland . . . the ancestral home of my mothers' family . . . they tell the tale of Paddy Murphy, a local lad who had ambitions to wed the fair Molly McCracken, a colleen of great beauty.   Now Molly had made it abundantly clear to young Paddy that she wouldn't settle for just any old local yokel . . . he needed to be a man of substance . . . the owner of land, sheep and cattle, and a comfortable cottage where they could raise their family.

"For example",  she said,  "that little spot on the hill down Mahoney Lane that belongs to Squire Flaherty . . . that would be perfect.   I do hear as how he would be more than willing to sell it to the right person"

So Paddy, an enterprising lad and not to be outdone by such lofty goals, travelled to Belfast in the hostile Protestant land to the North . . . and boarded a ship bound for that other place, England.   There he found employment.   Somewhat lowly at first, but with the thought of Molly as his future bride driving him onwards, he gained advancement with every chance presented.   Then after a couple of years, he had at hand the money in the bank to acquire the Squires' land, and returned home to Eire.

Meanwhile, Molly also had taken to the road . . . travelled to England and was working as a maid in one of the upper class households.

Not finding her at home in the village left Paddy in a despondent fashion.   He took to roaming the lanes and bridle paths around the village of an evening . . . brooding upon the unfairness of life and the world in general.    One evening just after taking an early supper, he was wandering desconsolately down Mahoney Lane, when from the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of something bright green.   Yes . . . there it was again . . . astride the toprail of that five-barred gate !

Quick as a flash his hand shot out . . . grabbed . . . and there it was !   A wee green Leprechaun now clutched firmly in his fist !

"Let me go ?" screamed the Leprechaun.

"Not bloody likely !" replies Paddy.   "I know the rules . . . if I catch a Leprechaun he has to grant me three wishes !"

"Not true !" yells the Leprechaun . . . "the real truth is you'll get nothing but bad luck if you don't release me at once.  Let me go !"

"Not likely" says Paddy.   "I know how tricky you wee people can be . . . now grant me my three wishes."

The Leprechaun, seeing as how he wasn't going to outsmart young Paddy that way, relented.   "Alright, you win . . . I'll grant you your three wishes . . . but it's not quite that simple, you know.   It's not generally known amongst your folk but there are conditions attached to the wishes.   Whatever you wish for yourself, I am duty bound to grant the same wish to your worst enemy . . . Tenfold !    Do you still want to make the three wishes, Paddy ?"

Paddy ponders for several minutes . . . "Och Aye" he says . . . "I'll go along with those conditions !"

"So . . . what are your three wishes then ?" says the Leprechaun.

"Well, firstly I must have that piece of land over on that rise . . . the one Squire Flaherty has for sale . . . and I'd like it to be stocked with small herds of fine cattle and sheep"

The Leprechaun snaps the fingers on his one free hand and . . . Poof . . . the "For Sale" sign disappears and there's Squire Flaherty handing him the deed to the property, mentioning in passing that Paddy can keep the herds of Friesian cows and Suffolk Down sheep agrazin' there.

"Bejabers !" says Paddy . . . "Now that was quick !"

At that moment the Leprechaun snaps his fingers again, and a beautiful estate with ten times the acreage and number of cows and sheep grazing on it appears magically on the other side of the lane.   Now . . . standing there, leaning on the gate to this magnificent scene, stood Sean McGillicuddy . . . Paddy's worst enemy since boyhood days in the three-room village school.   "Paddy" say Sean,  "how can I thank ye, laddy ?   We've fought tooth and nail ever since as far back as I can think"

"Don't sweat it, boyo" says Paddy   "there's more to come !"

"So . . . what's your second wish, Paddy ?" says the Leprechaun.

"Well" replies Paddy "I think for my second wish I'd like to have the little cottage built up there on the hill . . . the one I've always dreamed about . . . a comfortable wee one with a nice friendly kitchen and living room . . . a bedroom upstairs with a dormer window looking out over the fields below.   In the doorway would be standing the light of me life, colleen Molly McCracken, awavin' and calling me home for my evening supper."

"Poof" exclaims the Leprechaun, snapping his fingers !   Sure enough, there was the cottage just as Paddy had imagined it all these years, and even more magically . . . there was his Molly, standing in the doorway, waving and calling him home to sup.

Befoer Paddy could even exclaim in astonishment and delight . . . "Poof" says the Leprechaun again.   At that instant a huge mansion, ten times the size of Paddy's wee cottage, appears on the hill overlooking Seans' estate.   Hello . . . whats this ?    Not one, but ten beautiful colleens every bit as beautiful as Molly are hanging out and waving from windows and doors across the front of this mansion.   "Come on home for dinner and the like, Sean !" they chorus.

Sean is now ecstatic . . . "Paddy boy, how can I ever thank ye enough . . . what more could could a young stud like myself want ?"

The Leprechaun, meanwhile, has turned his attention back to Paddy.   "Now laddy-oh . . . it's time to make your third and last wish . . . make it wisely, boyo . . . ye'll get no second chance !"

Paddy had been doing some careful thinking while all this was agoin' on.   "Alright", he says,  "I've thought long and hard about this . . . can I tell you my third wish now ?"

"Why Yes, Paddy . . . just go ahead and I'll do my best to fulfill it" says the Leprechaun, seeing his way to freedom finally opening up.

"Alright then", says Paddy . . . "I want you to cut my desire and ability for sex by 10% !"

The Marriage Counsellor . . !

Even in remote southern Ireland, life in the small villages has changed with the times.   Take the old family home site of "Paddy and the Leprechaun" fame for example.   New folk have come into the area . . . more modern ideas have transcended the traditional ways of the the past.    One tale I've heard of late has to do with a pair of young newly-weds . . . Bridie Murphy and her husband Pat !   Typical of their generation . . . on the go . . . more open in their manner of speech and social activities than those of bygone years.

Now Bridie and Pat had been married now for a little over a year and on the surface seemed perfectly happy and content with their life in the small community.   Bridie had become quite friendly with her next door neighbour, Myra McGillicuddy . . . they would chat across the intervening garden wall while hanging out the washing on a Monday morning . . . share an occasional cup o' char and gossip about village activities and neighbours.    One day, Myra, noticing that Bridie wasn't quite her usual chirpy self, queried the reason why.

"Oh Myra" said Bridie . . . "it's me Pat . . . he doesn't seem to be quite the same man I married only a scant year back !"

"Does he not, now ?" Myra replied "and what seems to be the problem ?"

"Well", says Bridie, "when we first wed, it was exciting for me . . . the nightly love-making sessions in the bedroom after dark . . . the hugging . . . the kissing . . . and , you know . . . all that other intimate stuff !    I tell you, Myra, it was beautiful . . . simply beautiful . . . I was in my seventh heaven !"

"Aye" says Myra " I well remember such nights as those with the late Mr. McGillicuddy, God rest his Soul !"    She crossed herself devoutly !    "So what has happened to disturb this idyllic bliss ?"

"That's just it, Myra . . . Nothing . . . absolutely nothing !    As the year passed by the nightly activity lessened . . . Pat showed less and less interest in me and my need for the lovin' . . . lately it's lucky we are if he makes love to me a mere once a month . . . and I enjoyed it so . . . it was beautiful, Myra . . . simply beautiful !   I just don't know what to do to recapture those moments of bliss !"

"Well", says Myra  "I have a suggestion for ye if you'd no mind, lassie ?   I heard down in the village the other day that there's one of they new-fangled marriage guidance clinics opened up . . . down in what used to be the old widow-woman Mulcahey's cottage.  You might take a look and see what they can do to help out"

"Great idea, Gal . . . I'll do that once I get the washing done for the week" says Bridie.

So that afternoon, full of renewed hope, Bridie knocks on the dor of the old peat-thatched cottage on High Street . . . there was a newly painted sign outside which read "Marriage Guidance Clinic ~ Knock and Enter !"   She knocked . . . a voice answered saying "Come in !"

A kindly looking gentleman in a dark suit met her and enquired as to the nature of her marital problems . . . were they Spiritual . . . or Physical ?

"Well I'd have to say 'Physical'" she told the man.  

"Ah !"  he said  "then I'm not the man you need . . . I'm Father Flanagan, and I only handle matters Spiritual . . . you need to chat with Doctor McNally in the other room . . . just knock on the door there, and go on in"

She knocks, enters, and comes face to face with the young doctor.   "Sit down a spell" he says, motioning her to a chair facing his desk.   She did so.  "Now, what seems to be the problem, Lass ?    Tell me all about it . . . take your time . . . I'll need to know all the details"

So Bridie relates her tale of woe, leaving nothing out . . . of the excitement when newly wed . . . the joys of conjugal relationships . . . the sheer beauty of it all . . . diminishing with time to the present when a mere peck on the cheek in daily partings and greetings was the best she could expect.   The doctor listened thoughtfully until she finished.

"Well Lass" he began  "what you're experiencing is nothing new . . . Pat is going through a typical period of "staleness" . . . the first rush of romance has passed, you're both settling into the humdrum of routine married life.    Give it a few more months and it will change . . . Pat will be his old self again and everything will be all lovey-dovey !"

"But I miss the love-making so" says Bridie  "it was simply beautiful !    Is there nothing you can suggest to hurry Pat's return to the old days ?"

"Well" says Dr McNally "there is one thing we could try . . . it's not something I'd normally suggest in the case of a young couple like yourselves.   It's what we call professionally, an aphrodisiac."   He rummages in his desk drawer and brings out a small brown pill bottle.   Opening the cap, he shakes out a wee whitish-coloured pill, and hands it to Bridie.    "Here . . . try this . . . it may help !"

"Thank-you Doctor", says Bridie   "When do I have to take it ?   Any specific time ?

"Oh No, Bridie . . . you don't take it . . . it's for your husband, Pat !   Find a time when you think the moment is opportune, and say, slip it into his cup of tea or whatever when he's not aware of you doing it.    If he knows about it, the psychological impact of that knowledge would destroy any effects the pill might have on the occasion.   This is your secret !   One of these days, come back and let me know in detail how successful, or otherwise the wee pill has been"

So Bridie leaves for home with the wee aphrodisiac pill tucked safely in her handbag.   The days go by . . . then weeks . . . months . . . and finally almost eighteen months to the day since she last visited Dr McNally, she again knocks at his office door.    "Come in" says the Doctor.    Bridie enters, and sits as directed.

"Now" says Dr McNally "how can I help you Ma'am ?"

"Well . . . it's about the wee pill . . . an aphrodisiac I think you called it !" says Bridie

"Pill . . . what pill ?    Do I know you Ma'am ?   I don't recall seeing you as a patient before !"

"Oh yes Doctor . . . I was here to consult with you a wee while back . . . I'm Bridie . . . Bridie Murphy . . . I'd been having problems getting my husband Pat to make love to me on a regular basis . . . I missed it so . . . it was beautiful Doctor, simply beautiful !"

"Hmmm !   Murphy ?  Bridie Murphy ?"   He thumbed through his patients register, found nothing . . . took an older one from his desk drawer, searched for a while, finally finding her name and interview records some eighteen months back.   "Good Lord, woman" he exclaimed  "why have you waited this long to return and tell me the results of our little experiment ?"

"Well Doctor . . . like you said, the moment had to feel right to me."

"Alright, Bridie . . . tell me all about the occasion in as complete a detail as you can"

"Fine Doctor" she said "it was last evening.    We'd been eating supper, when I noticed him looking at me in that old way.    His hands stretched out across the table top to meet mine . . . the feeling was electric . . . I felt his knee press softly against and between mine under the table . . . somehow I sensed that this was to be the moment !    It was then that he got up from the table, excused himself saying he needed to visit the loo, and left the room.    Quick as a flash, while he was gone, I opened my purse, took out the wee pill and dropped it in his tea cup.   When he returned he sat down at the table, and finished his cup of tea.    It was then that things started to happen, Doctor !    He reached across the table, took my hands in his and caressed them softly.   Leaning forward, his lips met mine . . . he kissed me long and hard . . . I felt his tongue flick gently at mine . . . a moment of pure passion, Doctor !

And then it happened . . he got up from the table and took me . . . right there across the top of the table . . . wildly . . . fiercely . . . with sheer abandonment ! Oh I tell you Doctor . . . it was beautiful, simply beautiful !"

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"Now mind you, Doctor . . . I'll never be able to show my face in that restaurant again !"

Prisoners of War . . !

The phone rings in President Chiracs office.   He picks it up and a voice says 'This is Paddy o'Reilly here phoning from McCarthy's Bar in Donegal . . . we have decided to declare war on you'

'Well now' says Chiracc 'how many men in your army ?

'There's me and me brother Shaun, Mick the Barman and the pub darts team, that's sixteen all up' says Paddy'

'I have an army of 100,000 men' Chirac tells him

'I will ring back' says Paddy.

He rings next day 'The war is still on, we now have an armoured division'

"What do you have, Paddy' ask's Chirac.

'We have Murphy's tractor, two combines and a front-end loader !'

' I have two divisions of tanks, 1500 armoured personnel carriers and I have increased the army to 150,000 men' Chirac tells him.

'Begorrah' says Paddy 'I will ring you back'

He rings next day. 'The war is still on, we now have an air force'

'What do you have ?' from Chirac.

'We have O'Malleys ultra-light fitted with two twelve bore shotguns'

'I have 2000 jet fighters, 1500 bombers and 1000 guided missile batteries and I have increased the army to 200,000 men'

'Holy Mother of Jesus' says Paddy 'I will ring back.'   He calls next day and tells Chirac the war is off.

'I am pleased' says Chirac 'but what brought you to that decision'

'Well' says Paddy 'we had a meeting at the pub last night and decided there was no way we could feed 200,000 prisoners'

More Irish Humour . . !

Mick and Paddy were walking home from the pub.   Mick says to Paddy, 'I can't be bothered to walk all that way.'

'I know,' says Paddy, 'but we've no money for a cab and we've missed the last bus home.'

'We could steal a bus from the depot,' Mick suggests.

They arrive at the bus depot and Mick tells Paddy to go in and get a bus while he keeps a look-out.   After shuffling around for ages, Mick shouts, 'Paddy, what are you doing ?   Have you not found one yet ?'

Paddy shouts back, 'I cant find a No. 91'.

'Oh Jeysus, ye thick eejut, take the No. 14 and we'll walk from the roundabout'.

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A woman was just out of the shower and nearly dry when she hears a knock at the door.   ´Who is it ?´ she yells.

"The blind man", comes the reply.

So she goes to the door naked, as he will not see her, and opens the door.

The man says ´"Nice body . . . now where shall I hang the blind"

Photo Session . . !

Three dead bodies turn up at the mortuary, all with very big smiles on their faces.   The coroner calls the police to tell them his results after the examination.

"First body:   Frenchman, 60, died of heart failure whilst making love to his mistress.   Hence the enormous smile, Inspector", says the Coroner.

"Second body:   "Scotsman, 25, won a thousand pounds on the lottery, spent it all on whisky.  Died of alcohol Poisoning, hence the smile."

The Inspector asked, "What of the third body ?"

"Ah," says the coroner, "this is the most unusual one.   Paddy from Belfast, 30, struck by lightning."

"Why is he smiling then ?" inquires the Inspector.

"Thought he was having his picture taken !"

Shipwrecked Irishman . . !

One day an Irishman, who had been stranded on a deserted island for over 10 years, saw a speck on the horizon.

He thought to himself,  'It's certainly not a ship.'   And, as the speck got closer and closer, he began to rule out the possibilities of a small boat or even a raft.   Suddenly there emerged from the surf a wet-suited black clad figure.   Putting aside the scuba gear and the top of the wet suit, there stood a drop-dead gorgeous blonde !

The glamorous blonde strode up to the stunned Irishman and said to him 'Tell me, how long has it been since you've had a cigarette ?'

'Ten years,' replied the amazed Irishman.

With that, she reached over and unzipped a waterproofed pocket on the left sleeve of her wet suit, and pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes.

He takes one, lights it, and takes a long drag.   'Faith and begorra,'  said the man,  'that is so good I'd almost forgotten how great a smoke can be !'

'And how long has it been since you've had a drop of good Irish whiskey ?'  asked the blonde.

Trembling, the castaway replied, 'Ten years.'

Hearing that, the blonde reaches over to her right sleeve . . . unzips a pocket there and removes a flask and hands it to him.

He opened the flask and took a long drink.    'Tis nectar of the gods !'  stated the Irishman.  'Tis truly fantastic !'

At this point the gorgeous blonde started to slowly unzip the long front of her wet suit, right down the middle.    She looked at the trembling man and asked,  'And how long has it been since you played around ?'

With tears in his eyes, the Irishman fell to his knees and sobbed:  ' Don't tell me you've got golf clubs in there too !'

The Photos . . !

Then there was the Scotsman who had his photograph taken in the nude.

It was a good photo and he decided to send it to his mother, but he couldn't send her the whole photo so he just cut off the top half and sent that.   His mother loved the picture and told him to send one to his grandmother.   He wasn't going to the expense of having more printed so he just sent the bottom half . . . (After all Gran was very short sighted)

Gran wrote him a letter saying what a lovely photo, he looked just like his granfather . . . with a long nose and bags under the eyes.