bellystrokes
3rd Level Yellow Feather
- Joined
- Feb 21, 2002
- Messages
- 3,635
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(Mercy, I love me Irish friends and I want me gold too---for you NT and Steph)
Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train.
His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.
"W hat happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.
" J amie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.
"T hat little shit, O'Conner," says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand."
"T hat he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it."
"W ell," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?"
That I did," said Paddy. "Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."
Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train.
His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.
"W hat happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.
" J amie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.
"T hat little shit, O'Conner," says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand."
"T hat he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it."
"W ell," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?"
That I did," said Paddy. "Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."
Very good, goddess, but I prefer Polish jokes.
