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Posted on 03/17/2019 11:25:01 AM PDT by Puckster
Brenda O’Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door.
“Brenda, may I come in?” he asks. “I’ve somethin’ to tell ya”.
“Of course you can come in, you’re always welcome, Tim. But where’s my husband?”
“That’s what I’m here to be telling ya, Brenda. There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery”
“Oh, God no!” cries Brenda. “Please don’t tell me.”
“I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I’m sorry.”
Finally, she looked up at Tim. “How did it happen, Tim?”
“It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout, and drowned.”
“Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim, did he at least go quickly?”
“Well, Brenda, no. In fact, he got out three times to pee.”
‘Tis me!
Patty!
Patty O’Furntiture!
The real question is “Is the name based on the Irish cops on the outside or the Irish drunks inside?”.
so in the Quiet Man, is it “No patty fingers in the Holy Water” ? or “No paddy fingers in the Holy Water”
Paddy.
An Irishman, visiting San Francisco, was walking along the wharves when he asked a local if he knew where there was a curio shop. The local said, “Right up the hill about five blocks on the right.”. The Irishman thank him and proceeded up the street till he found the shop.
When he entered the shop, he noticed the owner sitting behind his desk busy with paperwork.
So the Irishman looked around and paused. Sitting on the shelf was a brass rat statue which he really liked. He went up to the owner and asked him how much the brass rat was.
The owner smiled and leaned back in his chair and said, “Well.....it’s $10 for the rat and $1000 for the story!”.
The Irishman being practical said, “Here’s $10”.
So he left the shop and started to head back downhill to the wharves. Before he got to the end of the first block he noticed a rustling behind him and when he looked there were a couple of rats following him.
Not easily disturbed, the Irishman continued across the street to the next block and as he proceeded the noise continued to get louder. He looked back again and there were about 200 rats following him.
Now he gets a little nervous and picks up his pace to a quick walk. But the noise continued to grow and when he looked back he saw at least 2000 rats following him, after which he broke into a full run.
As the Irishman approached the wharves he stopped again and there had to have been at least 2 million rats following him.
So he runs to the end of the wharf and stopped and looked at the rats approaching, then the brass rat and again the rats approaching.
He then turned and threw the brass rat into the bay and watched in amazement while all the rats hurled themselves to the last one in the bay and drowned.
The Irishman paused and then sprinted back up the hill and burst through the door and up the the desk of the curio shop owner and slapped his hands down onto the desk and panted.
The owner smiled again and leaned back and said, “So, your back for the story?”.
“Nay laddy,” said the Irishman, “I want to know....do you and any BRASS LAWYERS?!!!!”.
At the office of the French president the phone rings. Mister Hollande answers it and from the other side of the line a voice says: “This is Paddy from Ireland. I am ringing you from The Old Dublin pub to inform you that we officially declare war on you!”
Hollande replies: “Well Paddy, that is indeed important news. How big is your army?”
“Right now,” says Paddy, after a moment’s calculation, “there is meself, me cousin Sean, me next door neighbor Seamus, and the entire darts team from the pub. That makes eight!”
Hollande laughs amused and says: “I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 100.000 men in my army waiting to move on my command.”
“Oh My!” says Paddy. “I’ll have to ring you back.”
Sure enough, the next day, Paddy calls again. “Mr. Hollande, the war is still on. We have managed to get us some infantry equipment!”
“And what equipment would that be Paddy?”, Hollande asks.
“Well, we have two combines, a bulldozer, and Murphy’s farm tractor.”
Hollande again seems rather amused. “I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 6.000 tanks and 5.000 armored personnel carriers. Also, I have increased my army to 150.000 since we last spoke.”
“Saints preserve us!” says Paddy. “I’ll have to get back to you.”
Sure enough, Paddy rings again the next day. “Mr. Hollande, the war is still on! We have managed to get ourselves airborne! We have modified Jackie McLaughlin’s ultra-light with a couple of shotguns in the cockpit, and four boys from the Shamrock Bar have joined us as well!”
Hollande was silent for a minute and then cleared his throat. “I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 100 bombers and 200 fighter planes. My military bases are surrounded by laser-guided, surface-to-air missile sites. And since we last spoke, I have increased my army to 200.000 men!”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” says Paddy, “I will have to ring you back.”
Sure enough, Paddy calls again the next day. “Top o’ the mornin’, Mr. Hollande! I am sorry to inform you that we have had to call off the war.”
“Really? I am sorry to hear that,” says Hollande. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Well,” says Paddy, “we had a long chat over a few pints of Guinness, and we decided there is no way we can feed 200.000 prisoners.
And then he created the Scots to prove himself wrong!!
Oh to live on the Hebrides Islands where the only industry is the making of Scotch Whisky. No one knows what day, or what time it is, but then they seem not to concerned.
Gunner
I’ve always thought that’s a great name for a priest: Father Seamus.
Ironic, now, considering the pedo-crisis.
“Tis me!
Patty!
Patty O’Furntiture!”
That’s the lazy Irishman who lays around the pool all day.
OK, Beagle, I'll bite. I don't get it. What does it mean, where is the joke?
The bartender didn’t a black leprechaun in his bar. That is the joke.
LMAO! That is one bad joke!!!
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