Day: August 25, 2024

Now, Nobody Loves Me

My little niece Jenny got some quality time with scissors. She walked into the room holding a long lock of freshly shorn hair. She’d sheared her waist-length hair into a jagged mess right above the ear. Shocked, my sister burst into tears and fled the room. Following her mother’s lead, Chelsea, her little sister wailed and ran. Turning to her dad, Jenny wept and said, “I cut my hair and now, now nobody loves me!”

Irish Drinking Jokes

A garda was patrolling down O’Connell Streetin Dublin when he sees two fellas pissing up against the window of a shop. He parks the car and runs over to them.

He asks the first fella for his name and address. The man replies, ‘I’m Paddy O’Toole of no fixed abode.’ 

The Garda turns to the second fella and asks the same question.

He replies, ‘I’m Ben Riordain, and I live in the flat above Paddy!’”

Delirrrrrah

“Anto’s missus was in the Rotunda Hospital, ready to give birth to their first child. 

When they arrived, the nurse asked, ‘How dilated is she, sir?’.

Anto replied, ‘Delighted? She’s over the fu*king moon!‘”

Ordering a pint

“‘Sorry, love, can I have a pint of Guinnessand a packet of crisps where you’re ready there’.

‘Oh. You must be Irish‘, she replied. The man was evidently offended and responded, ‘The cheek, just because I order a pint of Guinness you assume I’m Irish. 

If I ordered a bowl of pasta would you that make me Italian?!’

‘No’ she replied. ‘But this is a newsagents…‘”

Feeling himself

“Sheamus drops into the local pub on the way back home from visiting the doctor. ‘What’s the story?’ Paddy asks when he sees the look on Sheamus’s face.

‘I haven’t been feeling myself lately‘, Sheamus replied. ‘That’s good’ says Paddy. ‘Sure you’d be arrested for less!’”

Flies in a pint

This is one of the many Irish stereotype jokes that’s flying around, but unlike many it isn’t exactly offensive.

“An Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman wander into a little old pub in Kildare. They each ask the barman for a pint of Guinness. After the pints are placed onto the bar, three bluebottles drop into each man’s freshly poured pint.

The Englishman pushes his pint away in disgust and orders up another. The Scot reaches in and plucks the fly out.

The Irishman reaches in, picks the fly out, holds it up close to his face and shouts, “Spit it out you little b*stard.””

Legal advice

“An English lawyer was sat with his Irish client. ‘Marty’ he sighed, ‘Why is it that whenever you ask an Irishman a question, he replies with another question?’‘Bollocks. Who told you that?’ asked Marty.”

Death by Guinness

It’s been doing the rounds on WhatsApp for a while, but hopefully it’ll give you a laugh.

“It was a cold Friday evening when the doorbell rang is Mrs Molloy’s house. When she answered the door, Pat Glynn, her husband’s manager at the brewery, was stood on the doorstep.

‘Pat. Hello. Where’s my husband? He should have been home from work 3 hours ago?’ The man sighed. ‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Mrs Molloy, but there was an accident over in the brewery. Your husband fell into a vat of Guinness and drowned’.

Ten shots, please

‘Oh my God’ she replied. ‘Please tell me it was quick?!’ ‘Well… no. It wasn’t. He climbed out 4 times to take a p*ss‘.”

“Ben walked into the local bar all a fluster and ordered seven shots of Irish whiskeyand a pint of Smwithicks. When the barman arrived back with the pint, all of the shots of whiskey had been drunk.

‘Ah here, you drank those very quickly‘ said the barman. ‘Well’ says Ben, ‘If you had what I had you’d drink them quickly, too’.

‘Shite’ replied the barman ‘What do you have?’ ‘A tenner’ replied Ben.”

Your Money is No Good Here

It’s good to compare notes with your family. My brother just told me my dad helped his brother-in-law counterfeit quarters back in the 1930s. Daddy’s oldest sister, Aunt Jenny, married Uncle Chester, a bona fide reprobate, a rabble-rousing drunk who enlisted Daddy to help with his quarter counterfeiting business. I don’t know if Daddy would have even qualified for reform school if he’d gotten caught, since he was just a hungry little kid trying to win a place at Aunt Jenny’s table for a few days. Mama and his younger sisters were about to starve since his own father was sick in bed at his mother’s house. Grandma wanted nothing to do with her daughter-in-law and the grandkids, though she was willing to care for her son. The boys were pretty much working for room and board anywhere they could.

At any rate, Uncle Chester made pretty good quarters, a time-consuming job requiring a steadier hand than his, since he was rarely sober. According the Daddy, Uncle Chester made impressions of both side of quarters using Plaster of Paris casts lined with onion-skin paper. The steady hands were needed to line the molds up and glue them together, leaving a tiny pour-hole at the top, where they could pour in Uncle Chester’s special melted alloy. Once the ragged quarters set, a little artistry work was required to finish them off. Voila! Quarters!

 

 

 

 

Uncle Chester had no trouble passing his bogus quarters at the grocery store, the mercantile, and the hardware store. The problem came at the bar. Though he was normally stingy and careful, one night he got a snootful and wanted to buy a round for everybody in the house. Indiscreetly, he brought out a bag of quarters to pay his tab. They didn’t ring true when he poured them on the counter. The proprietor objected, Uncle Chester tore into him, and Uncle Chester ended up in Leavenworth.

That really wasn’t so bad. His cell-mate taught him to make twenty-dollar bills. Before long, Uncle Chester was out, but wasn’t able to pass his twenties because he couldn’t get the color just right. After a number of frustrating attempts, he poured up some quarters and headed back to the bar. When he poured his clinky quarters out on the bar, just as Uncle Chester anticipated, the bar-tender objected. “Are you telling me my money’s no good?” A fight and arrest ensued. Uncle Chester went back to Leavenworth for a refresher, polished his craft, and never had any more counterfeiting troubles.

All’s well that ends well.

Footloose and Fancy Free (Part 3)

breastBobo’s old truck rattled in one Saturday about four. White-headed kids in overalls piled out of the back, their bare feet kicking up a dust. Fishing poles dangled out of the truck bed. Grinning, Bobo slung a stringer of bream over his shoulder. Inez slid out of the front seat, wagging a newborn and helping her twin toddlers slide to the ground. One was diapered,one not. She laughed, explaining, “His britches stunk too bad for the front. Sometimes that busted glass works out purty good! The kids in the back didn’t care nohow long as the truck was a’movin’.”

While Daddy and Bobo cleaned the fish, Mother and Inez peeled potatoes. Long before the days of paper plates, we had to make do. The bigger kids got to sit on the kitchen floor with pie plates. Fried fish and French-fries were finger food. Toddlers sat at the table next to their mamas. As the adults started eating, I was amazed when Inez casually pulled out an enormous breast. Her baby rooted and snapped it up. I’d never seen anything so shocking. Mother was so modest, she triple-locked the bathroom door. I’d never even seen her in her panties. My mouth flew open, “Mother, that baby’s eatin’ its Mama!”

Annie Sleeps Around

dalmation 2More on Annie, our foul-tempered, farting, fat, Dalmatian who only liked the neighbor kid across the street.

One of Annie’s loveliest traits was that it was impossible to keep her off the furniture. When we told the kids to go to bed, she was the first to hit the bed. Anyone careless enough to leave a bedroom door open could count on a bed partner as soon as they drifted off. A couple of houseguests were awakened by the crushing weight of a heavy, nasty, growling surprise when they didn’t shut their door securely. No featherweight, she’d heft herself on atop an unfortunate sleeper with no concern whatsoever for whomever might be occupying that bed. It was common to hear one of us yell out “Get out, Annie!” followed by a nasty tempered, low growl, then the padding of feet down the hall.

From another room, a from a muffled voice would let out a big “Oof! Annie! Get over!” There’d be some shuffling from that bed till she crowded that victim enough to get moved along.

Annie had no intention of going outdoors when we left. When she heard us making preparations to leave, she’d sneak stealthily back to the kid’s room. We turned to tables on her own day, announcing we were on our way out, making a great show of leaving, then awaiting her by the door. As soon as the door shut, she came prancing in the living room, prepared to jump on the sofa. She was mortified when she spotted us, dropped her head, and walked to the front door to be put out. It was good to get the best of her for once.