An Irishman Walks Into A Bar (Yeah, Like That's A Surprise...)

Hilarity will ensue. But, first...

It appears that all of the people whose blogs I faithfully followed have been spirited from the face of the earth. I guess the rapture happened and I was deemed non-qualified. Either that or Google has decided I shouldn't be allowed to follow anyone because I look like a stalker. In any case, I have lost all of the "follower links" from Google Reader, which I employed in order to know when you had published something new. I'll try to reconstruct and reattach - whatever the terms would be - as I make my way around to your sites. If you don't see me for a couple of days, now you know why. It's not because I don't love you; it's because Google doesn't love you (or hates me.)

(If you don't see me for a couple of weeks, drop me a line and remind me about yourself. If you don't see me for a couple of months, don't.)

Here's something to brighten your day, though. In the true spirit of yesterday's post concerning Saint Patrick's Day, all of my Irish (and semi-Irish) friends sent me jokes about Irishmen. As I said, the Irish are the last group you can joke about with utter disregard for hurt feelings and possible civil rights lawsuits. And what sort of good Irishman would I be if I didn't re-print a couple of those jokes for you now? So, here you go!

(By the way, my favorite part of all of these jokes is the varied way of putting Irish accents into print. The first joke differs wildly from the second joke, and they both differ from the third joke, as well as the fourth joke and my own post from yesterday. I guess our Irishmen come from different parts of the country. Let's call it Mayo, Kerry, Cork, Sligo, and Dingle [which sounds like the punchline to a joke about a dirty Irish law firm, but I digress within my digression, which is always bad form and necessitates the use of brackets within parentheses, like so.])


An Irishman is sitting at a bar. He sees a lamp at the end of the bar. He walks down to it and rubs it. Out pops a genie. It says, "I will give you three wishes."

The Irishman thinks awhile. Finally, he says, "I want a beer that never is empty."

With that, the genie makes a *POOF* sound, and on the bar is a bottle of beer. The Irishman starts drinking it and, just as he seems to be finishing it, it starts to refill every time.

The genie asks him what he'd like for his other two wishes.

"I want two more of these!"


Mick, from Dublin, appeared on 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire' and towards the end of the program had already won 500,000 pounds.

"You've done very well so far," said Chris Tarrant, the show's presenter, "but for a million pounds you've only got one lifeline left - phone a friend. Everything is riding on this question... Will you go for it?"

"Sure," said Mick. "I'll have a go!"

"OK," said Chris. "Which of the following birds does NOT build its own nest?"

A: Sparrow
B: Thrush
C: Magpie
D: Cuckoo

"I haven't got a clue," said Mick, "so I'll use me last lifeline and phone me friend Paddy back home in Dublin."

Mick called up his mate and told him the circumstances, repeating the question as it was posed to him.

"Fookin' hell, Mick!" cried Paddy. "Dat's simple. It's a cuckoo."

"Are ye sure, Paddy?"

"I'm fookin' sure!"

Mick hung up the phone and told Chris, "I'll go wit Cuckoo as me answer."

"Is that your final answer?" asked Chris.

"Dat it is, Sir."

There was a long pause. Then the presenter screamed, "Cuckoo is the correct answer! Mick, you've won 1 million pounds!"

The next night, Mick invited Paddy to their local pub to buy him a drink.

"Tell me, Paddy, how in Heaven's name did you know it was da Cuckoo that doesn't build its own nest?"

"Because he lives in a fookin' clock!"


An Englishman, a Scot and an Irishman walk into a bar and order three pints. Just as they are served, a fly lands in each of their glasses.

The Englishman pushes his glass away in disgust and orders another.

The Scot picks the fly out of his glass and drinks his beer.

The Irishman grabs the fly and starts shouting "Spit it out, ya bastard! Spit it out!"


An Irishman leaves a pub. As he's walking down the street towards home, he is grabbed from behind and dragged into an alleyway.

His attacker, holding the Irishman's hair with one hand and using his other hand to hold a knife to the Irishman's throat, says, "Are you Catholic or Protestant?"

The Irishman, thinking fast, says, "Neither! I'm Jewish!"

"Praise Allah! I am the luckiest Taliban member in all of Ireland!"

***************************************************************

Tomorrow's posting will be absolutely 100%-obscenity-free! This news will delight some of you, while simultaneously keeping the others from returning.

See (some of you) then!