Irish Humor

AER LINGUS MILE HIGH CLUB​

A mother and young son were flying Aer Lingus. The son, who had been looking out the plane's window, turned to his mother and said "Mom ... If big dogs have baby dogs and big cats have baby cats, why don't big planes have baby planes?"

Stumped for an answer the mother suggested to her son that he ask the stewardess. The boy promptly got out of his seat and wandered back to the service area. "Excuse me" the boy said to the stewardess. "If big dogs have baby dogs and big cats have baby cats, why don't big planes have baby planes?"

"Did your mother tell you to ask me that?"

"Yes" He said nodding his head.

She whispered in the boy's ear, "Tell your mother it's because Aer Lingus always pulls out on time."

THE NEW PRIEST​

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?"

SMART IRISHMAN​

An Irishman named Murphy went to his doctor after a long illness. The doctor, after a lengthy examination, sighed and looked Murphy in the eye and said, "I've some bad news for you... you have cancer and it can't be cured. I'd give you two weeks to a month."

Murphy, shocked and saddened by the news, but of solid character, managed to compose himself and walk from the doctor's office into the waiting room. There he saw his son who had been waiting. Murphy said, "Son, we Irish celebrate when things are good and celebrate when things don't go so well. In this case, things aren't so well. I have cancer and I've been given a short time to live. Let's head for the pub and have a few pints."

After three or four pints the two were feeling a little less somber. There were some laughs and more beers. They were eventually approached by some of Murphy's old friends who asked what the two were celebrating. Murphy told them that the Irish celebrate the good and the bad... he went on to tell them that they were drinking to his impending end.

He told his friends, "I've only got a few weeks to live as I have been diagnosed with AIDS." The friends gave Murphy their condolences and they had a couple more beers.

After his friends left, Murphy's son leaned over and whispered, "Dad, I thought you said that you were dying from cancer. You just told your friends that you were dying from AIDS!"

Murphy said, "I am dying from cancer, son. I just don't want any of them sleeping with your mother after I'm gone!"

WORKING DOGS ​

Four Irishmen were bragging about how smart their dogs were. The first man was an engineer, the second man was an accountant, the third man was a chemist, and the fourth was a civil servant.

To show off, the engineer called to his dog: "T-square, do your stuff". T-square trotted over to a desk, took out some paper and a pen and promptly drew a circle, a square, and a triangle. Everyone agreed that was pretty smart.

But the accountant said his dog could do better. He called his dog and said "Spreadsheet, do your stuff". Spreadsheet went out into the kitchen and returned with a dozen cookies. He divided them into 4 equal piles of 3 cookies each. Everyone agreed that was good.

But the chemist said his dog could do better. He called his dog and said: "Measure, do your stuff". Measure got up, walked over to the fridge, took out a quart of milk, got a 10 ounce glass from the cupboard and poured exactly 8 ounces without spilling a drop. Everyone agreed that was clever.

Then the three men turned to the civil servant and said, "What can your dog do?"

The civil servant called to his dog and said: "Coffee Break, do your stuff". Coffee Break jumped to his feet, ate the cookies, drank the milk, shat on the paper, shagged the other three dogs and claimed he injured his back while doing so, filed a grievance report for unsafe working conditions, put in for Workers Compensation and went home for the rest of the day on sick leave.

IRISH FARMER ANSWERS TAX DEMAND​

This text is from a letter sent by a farmer to the Revenue Commissioners at County Longford, Ireland, in reply to a final income tax demand.


Dear Sirs,

Your letter arrived this morning in an open envelope and it would have given my son and myself pleasure had it not revived in us a melancholy reflection of thought the account could have been settled long ago, and you could not understand why it hadn't. Well, here is the reason.

In 1987 I purchased a hay shed on credit. In 1988 I bought a combine harvester, a manure spreader, two horses, a double barrel shifter, two cows and ten razor back pigs, also on credit.

In 1989 the bloody hay shed burnt to the ground leaving not a damn thing. I got no insurance either as the bloody premium lapsed. One of the horses went lame and I loaned the other one to my brother who starved the poor bugger to death.

In 1990 my father died and my brother was put away when he tried to marry one of his sheep named Hilda. A knacker got my daughter pregnant and I had to pay him a grand to stop him becoming one of my relatives.

In 1991 my son got the mumps which spread to his balls and he had to be castrated to save his life. Later in the year I went fishing on the Shannon and the bloody boat overturned, drowning two of my sons, neither being the fucking eunuch who was by now wearing his sister's make-up and dresses.

Not long after he emigrated to America with the new parish priest. They are now married and trying for children.

In 1992 my wife ran away with a pig jobber from Drumlish and left me with new-born twins as a souvenir and I had to get a housekeeper, so I married her to keep down expenses. I had a hell of a job getting her pregnant (to qualify for more children's allowance). I went to see the doctor. He advised me to create some excitement at the crucial moment so that night I brought my shotgun to bed and when I thought the moment was right I leaned out of bed and shot both barrels through the window, the wife shit the bed, I ruptured myself, and the next morning I found I had blown both doors off the barn, shot my best dairy cow and killed the fucking knacker who was in the hay loft with my daughter trying to get more money out of me, which he did, because I had to pay for the fucker's funeral expenses.

The next year, 1993, someone cut the balls off my prize bull, poisoned the water, and set fire to the house. I took to the drink and did not stop until all I had left was a pocket watch and a weak bladder. Winding the watch and running for a piss kept me busy for a time.

This year I took heart again and bought (on the hire purchase) a bulldozer, tractor and trailer and a new bull. Then the Shannon flooded and washed the bloody lot away. My second wife got VD from a land inspector and my last surviving son died from wiping his arse on a poisoned rabbit I had put down for dogs who were worrying my sheep.

It surprises me very much that you say you will cause trouble if I don't pay up. If you can think of anything I've missed I should like to know about it. Trying to get money out of me will be like trying to butter a hedgehog's hole backwards with a knitting needle. I'm praying for a cloud of cat shit to pass your way and I hope it will fall on you and the bastards in your office who sent me this final demand.

Yours for more credit,

John Murphy