A priest decides to take a walk to the pier near his church.
He looks around and finally stops to watch a fisherman load his boat.
The fisherman notices, and asks the priest if he would like to join him for a couple of hours.
The priest agrees.
The fisherman asks if the priest has ever fished before, to which the priest says no.
He baits the hook for him and says, "Give it a shot father".
After a few minutes, the priest hooks a big fish and struggles to get it in the boat.
The fisherman says "Whoa, what a big sonofabitch!"
Priest: "Uh, please sir, can you mind your language?"
Fisherman: (THINKING QUICKLY) "I'm sorry father, but that's what this fish is called - a sonofabitch!"
Priest: "Oh, I'm sorry - I didn't know."
After the trip, the priest brings the fish to the church and spots the bishop.
Priest: "Look at this big sonofabitch!"
Bishop: "Please, mind your language, this is a house of God."
Priest: "No, you don't understand - that's what this fish is called, and I caught it. I caught this sonofabitch!"
Bishop: "Hmmm. You know, I could clean this sonofabitch and we could have it for dinner."
So the Bishop takes the fish and cleans it, and brings it to the head mother.
Bishop: "Could you cook this sonofabitch for dinner tonight?"
Head Mother: "My lord, what language!"
Bishop: "No, sister, that's what the fish is called - a sonofabitch!
Father caught it, I cleaned it, and we'd like you to cook it."
Head Mother: "Hmmm. Yes, I'll cook that sonofabitch tonight."
Well, the Pope stops by for dinner with the three of them, and they all think the fish is great.
He asks where they got it.
Priest: "I caught the sonofabitch!"
Bishop: "And I cleaned the sonofabitch!"
Head Mother: "And I cooked the sonofabitch!"
The Pope stares at them for a minute with a steely gaze, but then takes off his hat, puts his feet up on the table, and says,
"You know, you f***ers are alright."
An American is travelling Ireland and he happens across a small pub in farm town along the shoreline. After a couple of pints, he sees an old dude near a window and goes over to strike up a conversation figuring he'll get some of the local flavor out of the old guy.
So, the American asks him what he's done in the area all his life. The old guy looks out at the towns jetty and says Ya see that ole stone jetty out there? I built that sea wall with me own two hands and the sweat of me brow!". Following with a low mutter of "and ye think they call me McCready the stonemason? BA"!
Then he points to what appears to be literally miles of fence surrounding area fields and says "And them fences, built with me toil and woe!"... Again a low mutter... "And ya think they'd call me McCready the fence builder? BA!"
Then he runs his hand down the polished and timelessly worn bar top, and makes the same type of comments about the labors that went into its creation years ago.
The American is curious now, he wonders what this guys nickname or occupational handle could be and he asks "So what DO people call you"?
The old man looks around and lowers his voice...
"All these accomplishments don't seem to garner me nay any fame or a name, but...
Ya Fook ONE GOAT!!!