A Peek into a Mind

Some of my favorites:

I’m From Ireland!

A man stumbles up to the only other patron in a bar and asks if he could buy him a drink. “Why of course,” comes the reply. The first man then asks: “Where are you from?” “I’m from Ireland,” replies the second man. The first man responds: “You don’t say, I’m from Ireland too! Let’s have another round to Ireland.” “Of Course,” replies the second man. Curious, the first man then asks: “Where in Ireland are you from?” “Dublin,” comes the reply. “I can’t believe it,” says the first man. “I’m from Dublin too! Let’s have another drink to Dublin.” “Of course,” replies the second man. Curiosity again strikes and the first man asks: “What school did you go to?” “Saint Mary’s,” replies the second man. “I graduated in ‘62.” “This is unbelievable!” the first man says. “I went to Saint Mary’s and I graduated in ‘62, too! “About that time in comes one of the regulars and sits down at the bar. “What’s been going on?” he asks the bartender. “Nothing much,” replies the bartender. “The O’Malley twins are drunk again.”

Confession

Two Irish lads had been out shacking up with their girl friends. One felt guilty and decided he should stop at the church and confess. He went into the confession booth and told the Father, “Father, I have sinned. I have committed fornication with a lady. Please forgive me.” The Father said, “Tell me who the lady was. “The lad said he couldn’t do that and the Father said he couldn’t grant himforgiveness unless he did. “Was it Mollie O’Grady ?” asked the Father. “No.” “Was it Rosie Kelly?” “No.” “Was it that red-headed wench Tessie O’Malley?” “No.” “Well then,” said the Father, “You’ll not be forgiven.” When the lad met his friend outside the friend asked, “So, did you find forgiveness.” “No,” said the other, “but I picked up three good prospects!”

Divorce

“Well, Mrs. O’Connor, so you want a divorce?” the solicitor questioned his client. “Tell me about it. Do you have a grudge?” “Oh, no, replied Mrs. O’Connor. Sure now, we only have a carport.” The solicitor tried again. “Well, does the man beat you up?” “No, no,” said Mrs. O’Connor, looking puzzled. “I’m always first out of bed”. Still hopeful, the solicitor tried once again. “Well, does he go in for unnatural connubial practices?” “Sure now, he plays the flute, but I don’t think he knows anything about the connubial”. Now desperate, the solicitor pushed on. “What I’m trying to find out are what grounds you have” “Bless you, sir. We live in a flat — not even a window box, let alone grounds”. “Mrs. O’Connor” the solicitor said in considerable exasperation, “you need a reason that the court can consider. What is the reason for you seeking this divorce?” Ah, well now” said the lady, “sure it’s because the man can’t hold an intelligent conversation!”.

Pedestrians

Paddy was in New York and was patiently waiting and watching the traffic cop on a busy street crossing. The cop stopped the flow of traffic and shouted, “Okay pedestrians”. Then he’d allow the traffic to pass. He’d done this several times, and Paddy still stood on the sidewalk. After the cop had shouted “Pedestrians” for the tenth time, Paddy went over to him and said, “Is it not about time ye let the Catholics across?”

The New Curate

Father O’Malley, the new priest is nervous about hearing confessions, so he asks the older priest to sit in on his sessions. The new priest hears a couple of confessions, then the old priest asks him to step out of the confessional for a few suggestions. The old priest suggests, “Cross you arms over your chest, and rub your chin with one hand.” The new priest tries this. The old priest suggests, “Try saying things like, ‘I see, yes, go on, I understand and how did you feel about that?’” The new priest says those things. The old priest says, “Now, don’t you think that’s a little better than slapping your knee and saying ‘No shit?!? What happened next?’”

Pat Flaherty

Padraic Flaherty came home drunk every evening toward ten. Now, the Missus was never too happy about it, either. So one night she hides in the cemetery and figures to scare the beejeezus out of him. As poor Pat wanders by, up from behind a tombstone she jumps in a red devil costume screaming, “Padraic Sean Flaherty, sure and ya’ don’t give up you’re drinkin’ and it’s to Hell I’ll take ye’”. Pat, undaunted, staggered back and demanded, “Who the hell ARE you?”. To that the Missus replied, “I’m the divil ya’ damned old fool”. To which Flaherty remarked, “Damned glad to meet you sir, I’m married to yer sister.”

Father O’Connor

The Cork born Father O’Connor’s reputation for castigating the Brits from the pulpit was legendary. However, the congregation in his new parish of Boston tired of him lambasting the Brits for the horrors they inflicted upon the Irish for generations. Ultimately, the Archbishop opted to send the good father to a small hamlet in the far reaches of Tennessee where, His Grace said, “The folks know nothing of England and care less. So Knock off the Brit bashing and you’ll better serve Holy Mother Church.” Several weeks later, when Father O’Connor stood into the pulpit to deliver his first sermon to his new congregation, the local Bishop, who knew of O’Connor’s reputation, was in attendance to check up-on him. “My dear brethren,” Father O’Connor began, “this morning I’d like to talk about The Last Supper.” Not bad, though the Bishop. Safe enough ground. “Now, the lesson to be learned from The Last Supper, where Christ knew He’d been betrayed, is that the sin of betrayal is the worst sin of all. A sin never forgiven by God or man,” thundered Father O’Connor. Fair enough, thought the Bishop. “Christ looked around at His apostles. ‘Was it you Peter, who betrayed me?’ He asked.” “Not I My Lord,” answered Peter. “Was it you John?” “Not I My Lord.” “Christ asked each of them in turn and finally came to Judas, who was sitting at the end of the table, his head bowed. Was it you, Judas, who betrayed me? asked Christ, and Judas responded, “Wot? Me? Not on yer bloody life, Mi’lud.” The Bishop fainted.

Pick A Fight

Three Englishman walk into a bar a spot an Irishman sitting alone at a table. One fellow says to the others, “Let’s pick a fight with the Mick over there”. His partner replies, “Wait we don’t want to be arrested. Let’s make him start the fight”. The third Englishman says “Wait here chaps. I know how to do it”. He goes over to the Irishman and says, “St. Patrick was a bloddy faggot!” To which the Irishman replied “You don’t say now!” and calmly resumes drinking his beer. The second Englishman now tries his luck and says to the Irishman, “St. Patrick was a fag that wore a dress!” To which the Irishman again replies “You don’t say now!” and calmly resumes drinking his beer. The last Englishman tell his friends he knows how to rile the Mick and bounces up to the table and screams “St. Patrick was an Englishman!” To which the Irishman matter-of-factly replied “So your friends were telling me.”

Potatoes

An old man living alone in South Armagh, whose only son was in Long Kesh Prison, didn’t have anyone to dig his garden for his potatoes. So he wrote to his son about his predicament. The son sent the reply, “For HEAVENS SAKE, don’t dig the garden up, that’s where I buried the guns!!!!!” At 3 AM the next morning, a dozen British soldiers turned up and dug the garden for 3 hours, but didn’t find any guns. Confused, the man wrote to his son telling him what had happened, asking him what he should do now? The son sent the reply: “NOW plant the potatoes!”

Engines

Two Irishmen are flying home from London. Shortly after taking off there is a big explosion and the pilot announces that one of the four engines has gone and the flight will take 20 minutes longer. Not long afterwards the pilot announces that a second engine has failed and the flight time will be 40 minutes longer. Half an hour later the pilot speaks to the passenger again to say that the third engine has gone out and they will arrive an hour late. At this time, one of the Irishmen turns to the other and remarks “I hope that fourth engine keeps going or we’ll be up here all night.”

Clancy’s Donkey

Finnegan sold Clancy a donkey. Three weeks later they met in Murphys pub and Clancy says “Hi Finnegan, that bloody donkey you sold me went and died” Finnegan just sipped his pint and chirped up “Be heck it never done that on me!!”

The Spy

A secret agent was sent to Ireland to pick up some sensitive information from an agent called Murphy. His instructions were to walk around town using a code phrase until he met his fellow agent. He found himself on a desolate country road and finally ran into a farmer. “Hello, said the agent, “I’m looking for a man called Murphy.” “Well you’re in luck,” said the farmer, “as it happens, there’s a village over the hill, where there’s a butcher called Murphy, the baker is named Murphy, three widows are called Murphy. In fact my name is Murphy.” “Aha,” thought the agent, “here’s my man.” So he whispered the secret code. “The sun is shining…the grass is growing…the cows are ready for milking.” “Oh,” said the farmer, “you’re looking for Murphy the spy - he’s in the village over the other direction.”

Sawmill

Pat and Mick landed themselves a job at a sawmill. Just before morning tea pat yelled: “Mick! I lost me finger!” “Have you now?” says Mick. “And how did you do it?” “I just touched this big spinning thing here like this…Damn! There goes another one!”