This stunning Irish blond walks into a casino and proceeds to the roulette wheel.
She takes out some money and places it on the table. She says to the dealers, “I usually have more luck gambling when I am naked” and then takes off all her clothes and puts them on the table.
The wheel is spun and in glee the blond shouts, “I won I won” whereby she takes her winnings and her clothes and off she goes.
The first dealer looks at the seconds and says, “what number was hit?” The second dealer looks back and says, “weren’t you watching?”
Moral of the story:
Not all Irish are drunks
Not all bonds are stupid
But men will be men
The Irish guy replies, "I have a brother in London and another in New York. I pretend that they are here with me."
One day, the Irish guy walks in and orders two pints. The bartender, sensing something is wrong, pours two pints and says, "these two are on the house, I'm sorry for your loss."
The Irish guy looks at the bartender sideways and says, "what do you mean? I gave up alcohol for Lent."
“The Brothel”
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.
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, awkwardly lights a match to see what
else is written on the stone marker, and exclaims, "Miles, from
Dublin."
Irish queer: A man who prefers women to whisky.
Paddy Murphy at his favorite pub when in walks Rev.Sullivan.
They nod, exchange hellos, and Paddy invites him to sit.
The Rev. knowing what true a Green and White Tim, Paddy is, takes a seat somewhat apprehensively.
“Reverend, I got to tell you, I been thinking.”
“And what’s that Paddy me, boy?”
“I been thinking that if I knew I only had a week to live, I’d convert. I’d become a Proddysent.”
The Rev. is taken back, and somewhat please to see Paddy come to his senses.
“Well that’s wonderful, Paddy, bless you. But can you tell me why?”
Paddy finishes his drink, looks him in the eye,”I figure if I had only a week to live it’s better one of you should die than one of us.”
here’s my favorite:
Brenda O’Malley is home as usual, making dinner, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door.
“Brenda, may I come in?” he asks. “I’ve somethin’ to tell ye.”
“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’ ye, Brenda. There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery...”
“Oh, God no!” cries Brenda. “Please don’t tell me...”
“Sure and I must, Brenda. Your husband Seamus is dead and gone. I’m sorry.”
Brenda reached a hand out to her side, found the arm of the rocking chair by the fireplace, pulled the chair to her and collapsed into it. She wept for many minutes. Finally she looked up at Tim.
“How did it happen, Tim?”
“It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guiness Stout and drowned.”
“Oh my dear! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?”
“Well, no Brenda......no.”
“No?”
“Fact is, he got out three times to pee.”
Guy says, "Well, I'm powerfully thirsty. I want a bottle of Guinness." Poof, a bottle of Guinness appears in the man's hand. He immediately chugs it down, then watches in amazement as the bottle fills up again.
"It's a magic bottle, master," the genie says proudly. "It will never be empty. Now, what are your other two wishes?"
Guy looks at the bottle and says, "Right, I'll have two more of these."
Paddy had been in the pub all day long, when he finally decided he should head home. He tried three times to stand, but each time his legs gave out on him and he fell to the floor. Finally he gave up, and spent the entire evening crawling down the sidewalk to his house, pulling himself along with his elbows. He managed to get his key in the lock, and then proceeded to crawl up the stairs to his bedroom, his head spinning the entire time. He drug himself up to the side of the bed and fell down next to his wife to sleep it off.
The next afternoon the phone woke him up.
“That was the bartender down at the pub,” his wife told him. “He said you left your wheelchair down there again last night.”
It’s not “Patty”, it’s “Paddy”.
As in “Paddy Wagon”.
Now, back to the jokes.
Paddy O'furniture
I’m going to have a traditional 7 course Irish dinner tonight....a 6-pack and a potato.
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 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.’
IRISH LOGIC
The wife came home early and found her husband in their bedroom making love to a very attractive young woman.
“You disrespectful pig!” she cried. “How dare you do this to me - a faithful wife, the mother of your children! I’m leaving you. I want a divorce!”
And Paddy (for it was he) replied “Hang on just a minute luv, so at least I can tell you what happened.”
“Fine, go ahead”, she sobbed, “but they’ll be the last words you’ll say to me!”
And Paddy began. “Well, I was getting into the car to drive home and this young lady here asked me for a lift. She looked so down and out and defenseless that I took pity on her and let her into the car. I noticed that she was very thin, not well dressed and very dirty. She told me that she hadn’t eaten for three days! So, in my compassion, I brought her home and warmed up the enchiladas I made for you last night, the ones you wouldn’t eat because you’re afraid you’ll put on weight.
The poor thing devoured them in moments. Since she needed a good clean-up I suggested a shower, and while she was doing that I noticed her clothes were dirty and full of holes so I threw them away.
Then, as she needed clothes, I gave her the designer jeans that you have had for a few years, but don’t use because you say they are too tight. I also gave her the underwear that was your anniversary present, which you don’t use because I don’t have good taste.
I found the sexy blouse my sister gave you for Christmas that you don’t use just to annoy her, and I also donated those boots you bought at the expensive boutique and don’t use because someone at work has the same pair.”
Here Paddy took a quick breath and continued - “She was so grateful for my understanding and help and as I walked her to the door she turned to me with tears in her eyes and said,
“Please ... do you have anything else that your wife doesn’t use?”
How’s about a request for pictures of a fine little lass?
I just heard on the radio that some idiot is trying to change the name from St Patrick’s Day (gasp! Christian!)
To ‘Shamrock Day’.
Laaaaaame.
This is not a joke. Went to the vet today with our dog and the topic of St. Patrick’s Day came up. His wife had read a book about civil war history. It said many Irish came over to help fight the war and their reason was to learn fighting techniques to take home. Some of them deserted. When they were caught they had their faces branded and were put on a boat back to Ireland. The face brand was an automatic death sentence when they arrived home. I had never heard this before. All I could say in reply was “and they say it’s tough on the Gitmo prisoners”. He laughed.