(for the wee bit o' leprechaun in all of us!)
Sandy MacDonald, a long time and respected resident of a small Irish town, passed away.
His wife, Maggie, went to the newspaper to place an obituary. She asked how much it would be. When the newspaper man told her, she was a little shocked by the price.
She asked him, "Since Sandy was such a highly regarded resident of this town, couldn't you do it for nothing?"
"No," said the man. "But I will give you three words, free."
Maggie answered, "Well, we could just say, 'MacDonald is dead.' "
The newspaper man then said, "I have just been thinking. Since Sandy was such a highly respected resident of our town, I think I could make that six words, free."
"Oh," said Maggie. "Then we could say, "MacDonald is dead. Bicycle for sale."
There was a rather loud disturbance in the wee hours of the morning, outside the pub.
An Irishman named Pat wandered back and forth on the sidewalk into the street, then onto the sidewalk and back into the street in front of the pub. He was hollering and swearing as he stumbled back and forth while holding half a pint in one hand and a key in the other.
A small crowd began to grow when, finally, the constables arrived on the scene. Seeing that what they were dealing with was one rather inebriated and irate young man, one of them approached him and asked, "Can I help you, lad?"
"Yesss, schur," the Irishman slurred. "Sshumbody stoll me car!"
"Well now, lad," the constable inquired, "where was your car last time you saw it?"
Waving his hand in the air in the front of himself, as if to put the key into the ignition, the Irishman said "Wey, it was at the eind of me key."
At the same time, the other cop noticed that the Irishman's zipper was down, and all was there to be seen, so he quietly asked, "Are you aware that you are exposing yourself?"
The Irishman looked down, dropped his shoulders woefully, and moaned, "Oh me God, they got me girl too!"
There is a beautiful deserted island in the middle of nowhere
where the following people are stranded:
* 2 Italian men and 1 Italian woman
* 2 French men and 1 French woman
* 2 German men and 1 German woman
* 2 Greek men and 1 Greek woman
* 2 English men and 1 English woman
* 2 Bulgarian men and 1 Bulgarian woman
* 2 Swedish men and 1 Swedish woman
* 2 Irish men and 1 Irish woman
One month later on this beautiful deserted island in the middle of nowhere....
The Italian men killed each other for the Italian woman.....
The 2 French men and the French woman are
living happily together in a "menage a trois"....
The 2 German men have a strict weekly schedule of
when they alternate with the German woman
The 2 Greek men are sleeping with each other
and the Greek woman is cleaning and cooking for them
The 2 English men are waiting for someone
to introduce them to the English woman
The Bulgarian men took one look at the endless ocean,
one look at the Bulgarian woman, and started swimming.
The two Swedish men are contemplating the virtues of suicide
while the woman keeps on bitching about her body being her own
and the true nature of feminism. But at least it's not snowing,
and the taxes are low.
The Irish began by dividing their island Northside-Southside
and setting up a distillery. They don't remember if sex is in the picture,
'cause it gets sort of foggy after the first few liters of coconut-whiskey,
but at least they know the English aren't getting any...
These two lads were in the army. One was Irish, and one was Jewish.
They were doubling (jogging) around the square, and when they were halted, the Jewish boy, puffing, said to the Irish lad, "I hate doubling, Paddy."
The Irish lad said, "Oi'm not too keen on Tel Aviv, either."
A big Irishman sauntered into a Dublin bar and shouted, "Which one of you is Martin Golly?"
A little man standing by the bar said, "That's me."
The big guy walked over to him and punched him in the mouth.
The little feller started laughing, so the big guy hit him again and he fell down, still laughing.
The hulk could not bear it. "Why are you still laughing?" he roared.
The joke's on you!" said the little man. "Oi'm not Martin Golly at all!"
"Rasher," said Mick, "did you know we only use one third of our brains?"
"No," said Rasher. "What do we do with the other half?"
An Irishman on a building site was going up and down the ladder, with the same hod of bricks each time.
One of his friends said, "What's the idea, Seamus?"
Seamus replied, "Oi've had an argument with the foreman, and Oi'm fooling him. He thinks Oi'm working!"
Nipper Corkish was a painter. One day he was working furiously, painting a door.
One of the other painters said, "Take it easy, Nipper. You'll have the Union after you!"
Nipper said, "I've got to work fast. I want to finish this door before the paint runs out!"
Irishman: "How am I going to measure the length of this ladder?"
Helpful bystander: "Lay it on the ground and pace it out."
Irishman: "I want to measure its height, not its length."
Billy and Pat were walking in the woods when they came to a sign saying 'Tree Fellers wanted.' One of them said, "Ye know, it's a shame Thom isn't here. We could have gotten the job!"
Cowdrey had applied for a job at the local factory, and was interviewed by the Irish foreman. The foreman said, "Oi can't start ye today, but if ye come back tomorrow, Oi might be able to give ye a job. The situation is, Oi've got a fellow here today who hasn't turned up. If he doesn't come in tomorrow, Oi'll send him home, and ye can have his job."
These two Irish men were having a chat. "Where were ye when I met ye on the Bridge, Stan?"
The other said, "I didn't notice ye as ye passed...then when I looked round, ye'd gone!"
Finbar had two horses he could never tell apart. It caused him lots of grief until one day he discovered that the black one was two hands taller than the white one!
Two Irishmen met, and one said to the other, "Have you seen Skinner O'Toole lately, Pat?"
Pat said, "Well, I have and I haven't."
His friend said, "And what d'ye mean by that?"
Pat said, "It's like this, ye see...I saw a chap who I thought was Skinner, and he saw a chap that he thought was me. And when we got up to each other...it was neither of us."
It was Ral O'Brien's brother who visited America and, while there, went to a pizza parlour. When the pizza was ready, the man behind the counter asked whether he wanted it cut into four or six pieces.
"Better make it four," said Ral's brother. "Oi doin't think I could eat six."
Freddy Quinn was selling his house, and put the matter in an agent's hands.
The agent wrote his advertisement for the house, and it made wonderful reading.
After Freddy read it, he returned to the agent and said, "Have I got all ye say there?"
The agent said, "Certainly ye have...why?"
Freddy replied, "Cancel the sale...'tis too good to part with!"
An Irishman, a Mexican, and a redneck were doing construction work on scaffolding on the 20th floor of a building. They were eating lunch when the Irishman said, "Corned beef and cabbage! If I get corned beef and cabbage one more time for lunch, I'm going to jump off this building."
The Mexican opened his lunch box and exclaimed, "Burritos again! If I get burritos one more time, I'm going to jump off, too!"
The redneck opened his lunch and said, "Bologna again. If I get a bologna sandwich one more time, I'm jumping, too!"
Next day - The Irishman opens his lunch box, sees corned beef and cabbage, and jumps to his death. The Mexican opens his lunch, sees a burrito, and he jumps, too. The redneck opens his lunch, sees the bologna sandwich waiting inside, and he follows them off the edge of the building.
At the funerals - The Irishman's wife is weeping. She says, "If I'd known how tired he was of corned beef and cabbage, I never would have given it to him again!"
The Mexican's wife also weeps, and says, "I could have given him tacos or enchiladas! I didn't realize he hated burritos so much!"
Everyone turned and stared at the redneck's wife. "Hey, don't look at me!" she said. "He made his own lunch!"
A RUSSIAN JOKE
Recently, President Clinton and Boris Yeltsin had a conference on the spread of AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases in their countries. Yeltsin asked Clinton how he and his administration were attempting to stop the spread of AIDS.
"We promote abstinence in the United States," Clinton told him.
"That would never work in Russia," Yeltsin replied. "People are going to have sex, and the government can't do or say anything to stop THAT! I want to promote the use of condoms in my country. The problem is, we don't have any good condom companies in Russia."
"Well, in the US we have many condom companies, and one of the best is Trojan," Clinton told him. "Let me give the president of the company a call. I'll ask him to send some condoms to you, so you can distribute them in your country. How many do you want?"
"We'd probably need about 5 million or so to start," Yeltsin replied.
"Okay. That should be no problem," Clinton replied. He thought for a second, then asked, "You'll probably want a variety of sizes, right?"
"No," said Yeltsin. "All the condoms should be the regulation 10 inches long and 2 inches wide."
'10 inches long!? 2 inches wide!?' Clinton thought. But he only said, "That should be no problem, Boris."
Mr. Yeltsin thanked the President, and they parted ways.
When Clinton got back to the Oval Office, he called the president of the Trojan Condom Company. "I need a favor from you, Peter," said Clinton. "I need you to send about 5 million condoms to Boris Yeltsin in Russia. The condoms must be 10 inches long and 2 inches wide. On each condom, I want you to write 'MADE IN THE USA' on one side, and 'SIZE MEDIUM' on the other."
There were these two very old Irishmen, lifelong friends, Barry Shaunessey and Patrick Houlihan. The day came when Shaunessey was on his deathbed, fading fast. Some friends and relatives gathered to say goodbye.
Finally Shaunessey motioned Houlihan over to his bedside and said, "Paddy, old sod, there's something I'd like you to do for me after I'm gone, something I've been thinking about for a long time now."
"What is it, Barry? I'll do anything I can for you, you know that," said Houlihan.
"Well," said Shaunessey, "you know how many times over the years, you and I have gone down to the pub and enjoyed a Guinness or two. I think some of my happiest times were there."
"Aye, Barry, those were fine times at that," agreed Houlihan.
"Well," said Shaunessey, "I want you to promise me that after I'm gone, you'll occasionally visit the cemetery and pour a little of that fine brew onto my grave in remembrance of me."
Houlihan's brow furrowed as he gave this a moment's thought. Then he replied, "Sure, Barry, I'll be happy to pour a little Guinness onto your grave from time to time. But do ye mind if I run it through me bladder first?"
Tommy goes into a confessional box and says, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I have been with a loose woman."
The old priest says, "Is that you, Tommy?"
Tommy sighs and confesses, "Yes, Father, it is me."
"Who is the woman you were with?" the priest demands.
"I cannot tell you," Tommy replies, "for I do not wish to sully her reputation."
The priest asks, "Was it Brenda O'Malley? Fiona MacDonald? Annaid Brown?"
"No, Father," Tommy says. "But I cannot tell you her name."
The priest thinks for a moment, then admits, "I admire your perseverance. But you must atone for your sins. Your penance will be five Our Fathers and four Hail Mary's."
As Tommy goes back to his pew, his buddy Sean slides over and whispers, "What happened?"
Tommy replies, "I got five Our Fathers, four Hail Mary's, and three good leads."
In a tiny Irish village lived an old maid. In spite of her old age, she was still a virgin. She was very proud of it. She knew her last days were getting closer, so she told the local undertaker that she wanted the following inscription on her tombstone:
"Born as a virgin, lived as a virgin, died as a virgin."
Not long after, the old maid died peacefully, and the undertaker told his men what the lady had said. The men went to carve it in her headstone. But as the lazy no-goods they were, they thought the inscription to be unnecessarily long. They simply wrote:
A Frenchman and an Italian were seated next to an Irishman on an overseas flight. After a few cocktails, the men began discussing their home lives.
"Last night I made love to my wife four times," the Frenchman bragged, "and this morning she made me delicious crepes and told me how much she adored me."
"Ah, last night I made love to my wife six times," the Italian responded, "and this morning she made me a wonderful omelet and told me she could never love another man."
When the Irishman remained silent, the Frenchman smugly asked, "And how many times did you make love to YOUR wife last night?"
"Only once," he replied.
"Only ONCE?" the Italian arrogantly snorted. "And what did she say to YOU this morning?"
The Irishman smiled. "Don't stop," he replied.