whats an irish mans idea of artwork...
drinking 50 pints and making a portrait of himself in sick on the floor!
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'Are the tablets doing you any good?' asked the doctor.
'Well, to be honest,' said Murphy, 'I haven't started taking them yet.'
'Why ever not?' asked the doctor.
'Well,' said Murphy, 'you told me to swallow them after a hot bath and I haven't finished swallowing the hot bath yet!'
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'I've bought a new clock,' boasted Clancy. 'It goes eight days without winding.'
'How long does it go if you do wind it?' asked the barman.
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The drunk rang Dublin airport and inquired: 'How long does it take to fly to New York from Dublin?'
'Just a second,' said the receptionist.
Thank you,' said the drunk and replaced the phone.
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'Wasn't it tragic about my brother Michael,' moaned Kelly. 'Women and whiskey killed him.'
'Is that so?' sympathised OToole.
'Yes, he couldn't get either so he hung himself!'
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'Have you decided what to buy your missus for Christmas?' asked McPhee.
'Sure, she decided it for me,' answered Kelly. 'She said she wanted something with diamonds in it. So I've bought her a pack of cards!'
Seen in a Dublin newspaper:
Prize crossword. Solve it and win £20,000 plus a holiday for two in Paris.
For those only playing for fun, the answers are on page 14.
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Sign on the coast road by a small Sligo village:
'When you can't read this sign, the road is flooded.'
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'I want some six by four timber for the new barn,' said Cassidy.
'We don't call it that now,' said the DIY manager. 'Since we've gone metric you have to ask for 15.2cms by 10.16cms. And if you want any it's two pounds a foot!'
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Father Francis it was who stubbed his toe and stumbled whilst baptising a child, and henceforth the boy was known as Thomas oops McNaily'.
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Irish they were and drunk for sure and they sat in the comer of Mulligan's newly refurbished bar. Across the wall opposite was a huge mirror, fourteen feet long and stretching from floor to ceiling.
Glancing around the room Pat suddenly spotted their reflection in the mirror.
'Mick, Mick,' he whispered. 'Don't look now but there's two fellas over there the image of us!'
'In the name of God,' said Mick, spotting the reflection. 'They're wearing identical clothes and everything.'
'That does it,' said Pat. 'I'm going to buy them a drink.'
But as Pat started to rise from his seat, Mick said, 'Sit down Pat one of them's coming over!'
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'Anyone who can guess how many ducks I have in this sack can have both of them,' said Murphy.
'Three,' said Ranagan.
'That's near enough,' said Murphy.
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Mick Flaherty had supped more Guinness than enough and had stumbled out of Quinn's bar and into the Sunday afternoon air.
As his drunken eyes squinted to adjust to the light, an ambulance went by at great speed. Blue lights flashing and siren blaring, it roared up the street with Mick in full flight running after it.
A hundred yards, 200, 300, almost a quarter of a mile he tracked it until suddenly, lungs and legs giving out, he fell into the gutter.
Then with his very last ounce of breath he roared: 'You can keep your damned ice cream!'
