(for the wee bit o' leprechaun in all of us!)

     An Irishman's been drinking at a pub all night. The bartender finally says that the bar is closing. So the Irishman stands up to leave, and falls flat on his face.  He tries to stand up one more time - same result.  So he figures that he'll crawl outside and get some fresh air, and maybe that'll sober him up.
     Once outside, he stands up and falls flat on his face again. So he decides to crawl the four blocks home.  When he arrives at the door, he stands up and, once again, falls flat on his face.
     He crawls through the door and into his bedroom. When he reaches the bed, he tries one more time to stand up. This time he manages to pull himself upright, but he quickly falls right into bed and is sound asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
     He awakens the next morning to his wife standing over him, shouting.  "So," she says, "you've been out drinking again!!!"
     "What makes you say that?" he asks as he puts on an innocent look.
     "The pub called," she replies. "You left your wheelchair there again!"

The Top 15 St. Patrick's Day Toasts

15)  May the roadkill rise up to eat you.
14)  May you never be as unhappy as a Catholic in Belfast.
13)  Hey!  You!  Wake up and drink this!
12)  May the green of your vomit tomorrow echo the green of your eyes tonight.
11)  May your codpiece always be a size too small.
10)  Here's shrapnel in yer eye!
09)  May the wind always be at yer back...less'n'o'course, ye're a mime.
08)  May the grass grow green in your fields, may the sun shine warmly at your back, and may you be back home in your apartment a half-hour before you start puking your guts out.
07)  May you never have to hear that caterwauling lass from The Cranberries screech ever again!
06)  Git yer hand off me arse or I'll rip yer head off and puke down yer throat!
05)  May Erin go bra-less.
04)  May you have the hair of Bono and the balls of Sinead O'Connor.
03)  May Pamela Lee fondle your blarney stones.
02)  Here's to not trippin' over a Kennedy.
        And the Number 1 St. Patrick's Day Toast...
01)  May the wind at your back not be the result of the corned beef and cabbage you had for lunch.

Courtesy of The Top Five List   top5@walrus.com    www.topfive.com

     The late Bishop Sheen stated that the reason the Irish fight so often among themselves is that they're always assured of having a worthy opponent.

     Irish humor is often droll.  When the Irish author, George Moore, was asked to explain his 80 year longevity, he replied, "It is due to the fact that I never smoked, drank excessively, or touched a girl until I was ten years old."

     An American lawyer asked, "Paddy, why is it that whenever you ask an Irishman a question, he answers with another question?"
     "Who told you that?" asked Paddy.

Why are Irish jokes so simple?
So the English can understand them.

Two Irish lassies on summer holiday.
"Where'd ya go, Sheena?"
"I went to Majorca."
"Where's that?"
"I don't know.  We flew."

     The Galway woman wrote home from Paris and said it was so lovely hearing the peasants singing the Mayonnaise.

     Bingley went to trial for armed robbery.  The jury foreman came out and announced, "Not guilty."
     "That's grand!" shouted Bingley.  "Does that mean I can keep the money?"

"An Irishman isn't much of a sound sleeper."
"Why's that?"
"He can get up at the crack of ice."

Irish lass customer:  "Could I be trying on that dress in the window?"
Shopkeeper:  "I'd prefer that you use the dressing room."

What do you call an Irishman with half a brain?

Irishman at Boeing Aircraft job interview.
"What machines can you operate?" asked the interviewer.
"Slot and pinball," replied the Irishman.

The Irishman took his necktie back to the store because it was too tight.

     Arriving in New York, O'Brien was asked whether he flew or came by boat.  "I dunno," says he.  "Me brother bought the tickets."

     The tour guide stated, "We are now passing the brewery of Arthur Guinness, the largest brewery in the world."
     "I'll be damned if we are," said O'Leary as he hopped off the tour bus.

Judge:  "Why did you get drunk in the first place, Harrigan?"
Harrigan:  "I didn't get drunk in the first place, your Honor.  It was in the last place."

     At the pub--completely smashed--Doyle asked O'Reilly, "Would you be knowing what time it is?"
     "I would," said O'Reilly.
     "Thanks," said Doyle.

     "Ye must love your enemies, as the Good Book says," thundered the priest.
     "I do.  Oh, I do, Father!" one of the parishioners replied.  "Me worst enemies are whiskey, cigarettes, and women!"

     Irish women can outdrink their husbands.  When the husband passes on, they order black olives for the martinis for a month.

     On his deathbed, McFain asked his best friend, O'Toole, "When I pass on, would you be kind enough to slowly pour a bottle of Bushmills' finest brew on me casket as they lower me into the ground?"
     "I will, I will," said O'Toole, sobbing.   "However, would ya be minding if it passed through me kidneys first?"

     Keenan appeared in the Dublin court charged with assault on his girlfriend.  He had Scotch-taped her breasts together.  Keenan's plea was, "Not guilty.  I was following a well-known practice and custom:  If you can't lick 'em, join 'em!"

     Shy Quinn was walking on his farm with his girlfriend, Biddy, when they came upon two cows rubbing noses.   "Biddy," Quinn said passionately, "I'd love to do that!"
     "Why don't you," said Biddy, "they're your cows."

     Mrs. O'Leary opened the door, and a man addressed her.  "Good morning, Ma'am, would ye be carin' to contribute to the Home for Hopeless Alcoholics?"
     "I would, I would," she replied.  "Come back about midnight an' ye can have my husband."

"My wife eloped with my best friend," said Casey.
"What's his name?" asked Grimes.
"I don't know," said Casey.   "I never met him."

     Returning from the nightly pub routine, O'Brien was thrashing his wife when he looked up and at the kitchen door stood Father Cogan.  Quickly he said, "Now, Bridget, will you be going to mass every Sunday?"

     Mrs. Feeney shouted from the kitchen, "Is that you I hear spittin' in the vase on the mantlepiece?"
     "No," said himself, "but I'm gettin' closer all the time."

What do you call an Irishman who knows how to control a wife?
A bachelor.

     Wife:  What's the reason for you comin' draggin' home with lipstick all over your shorts at five o'clock in the morning?
     Husband:  Breakfast.

Irish foreplay:  "Brace yourself, Bridget!"

Market Poll:  "Do you talk to your wife when you are making love?"
     50% said they did not.
     20% said yes.
     25% said sometimes.
     4% said they couldn't recall.
     1% said only if there was a telephone handy.

     Finnegin:  My wife has a terrible habit of staying up 'til two o'clock in the morning.  I can't break her of it.
     Keenan:  What on earth is she doin' at that time?
     Finnegin:  Waitin' for me to come home.

     Flanigan woke his wife up at two in the morning.  "What is it?" she yawned.
     "Your headache, darlin'," he replied.
     "I don't have a headache!" she responded, surprised.
     "Good," said Flanigan, "let's screw."

     Wife:  "You're takin' an awful long time tonight."
     Husband:  "I just can't think of anybody."

     Slaney phoned the maternity ward at the hospital.   "Quick!" he said.  "Send an ambulance, my wife is goin' to have a baby!"
     "Tell me, is this her first baby?" the intern asked.
     "No, this is her husband, Kevin, speakin'."

     "O'Ryan," asked the druggist, "did that mudpack I gave you improve your wife's appearance?"
     "It did surely," replied O'Ryan, "but it keeps fallin' off!"

     Old Father Hanlon phoned the police station and said, "There's a dead jackass on the front lawn.   Send down a couple of husky mick cops to drag it away."
     "Well, Father," said the desk sergeant, "isn't it the church's duty to bury the dead?"
     "It 'tis, it 'tis," replied the priest, "but it's also the church's duty to notify the next of kin."

The best ten years of an Irishman's life:   Fifth grade.

     My mother wanted me to be a priest.  Can you imagine giving up your sex life and then once a week people come in to tell you the details and highlights of theirs?

      Father Guffy roared from the pulpit to his parishioners:  "The drink has killed millions-- it rots their stomachs and they die in agony.  Smoking has killed millions--it coats your lungs and you die in agony.  Overeating and consorting with loose women have also killed millions..."
     "' Scuse me, Father," hollered Reagan from the back, "but what is it that kills the people who live right ?"

"Whatsoever a man drinketh, so shall he pee!"



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