Category: Irish

* Irish Toast

by On the River, posted in Irish

Dónal Murphy hoisted his beer and said, “Here’s to spending the rest of me life between the legs of me wife!”
That won him the top prize at the pub for the best toast of the night!
He went home and told his wife, Sheelah, “I won the prize for the Best toast of the night” She said, “Aye, did ye now. And what was your toast?” Dónal said, “Here’s to spending the rest of me life, sitting in church beside me wife.”
“Oh, that is very nice indeed, Dónal!” Sheelah said.
The next day, Sheelah ran into one of Dónal’s drinking buddies on the street corner.
The man chuckled leeringly and said, “Dónal won the prize the other night at the pub with a toast about you, SHEELAH.”
She said, “Aye, he told me, and I was a bit surprised myself. You know, he’s only been there twice in the last four years. Once he fell asleep, and the other time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come.”

Thanks to PH and…

* St Patrick’s Day Revelries

by On the River, posted in Irish

Cecil had been drinking at his local Dublin pub all day and most of the night celebrating St Patrick’s Day.
Reamonn, the bartender says, “You’ll not be drinking anymore tonight Cecil.”
Cecil replies, “OK Reamonn, I’ll be on my way then.”
Cecil spins around on his stool and steps off. He falls flat on his face. “Shoite” he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself off. He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face, “Shoite, Shoite!” He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just get to the door and some fresh air he’ll be fine. He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up to the door frame. He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air, feels much better and takes a step out onto the sidewalk and falls flat on his face. “Bi’Jesus…I’m fockin’ focked,” he says.
He can see his house just a few doors down, crawls to the door, hauls himself up the doorframe, opens the door and shimmies inside.
He takes a look up the stairs and says “No fockin’ way”. He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says, “I can make it to the bed.” He takes a step into the room and falls flat on his face. He says “Fock it” and falls into bed.
The next morning, his wife, Báirbre, comes into the room carrying a cup of coffee and says, “Get up Cecil. Did you have a bit to drink last night?”
Cecil says, “I did Báirbre. I was fockin’ pissed. But how’d you know?”
“Reamonn phoned…You left your wheelchair at the pub!”

 

Thanks to PH and…

Irish Humour [2003-10-11]

by On the River, posted in Irish

PART ONE has also been seen as “best newfie joke ever”

PART ONE:
Two men walk into a pet shop. They head directly to the bird section, and Dalton says to Andrew, “Dat’s dem.”
The owner comes over and asks if he can help them.
“Yeah, we’ll take four of dem dere little budgies in dat cage op dere,” says Dalton, “Put dem in a peeper bag.”
Andrew and Dalton pay for the birds, leave the shop and get into Dalton’s truck to drive to Conar Pass.
At the top of the Pass, Dalton looks down at the 1000-foot drop and says, “Dis looks like a grand place.” He then takes two birds out of the bag, places them on his shoulders and jumps off the cliff.
Andrew watches as Dalton goes straight down, killing himself stone dead. Looking down at the remains of his best mate, Andrew shakes his head and says, “Fook dat. Dis budgie jumping is too fook’n dangerous fer me!”

PART TWO:
Moments later; John arrives up at Conar Pass. He’s carrying a bag from the pet shop too, but is also toting a shotgun. He says, “Hi, Andrew. Watch dis.” John takes a parrot from the bag and throws himself over the edge of the cliff. Andrew watches as half way down, John takes the gun and shoots the parrot.
John continues to plummet down…and down, until he hits the bottom, and breaks every bone in his body.
Andrew shakes his head and says, “And I’m never trying dat parrotshooting either!”

PART THREE:
Andrew is just getting over the shock of losing two friends when Brian appears. He’s also been to the pet shop, and is carrying a paper bag out of which he pulls a chicken. Brian then hurls himself off the cliff and disappears down and down, until he hits a rock and breaks his spine.
Once more Andrew shakes his head in disbelief, “Fook dat, lads. First dere was Dalton with his budgie jumping…den John and his parrotshooting, and now Brian and his fook’n hengliding. Dese adventure sports are too dangerous for me…”

Thanks to J&B and PH

Irishman @ the Ball Game [2003-03-17]

by On the River, posted in Irish

An Irishman moves to Canada and finally attends his first baseball game. The first batter approached the batters’ box, took a few swings and then hit a double. Everyone was on their feet screaming “Run”, “Run”.
The next batter hit a single and the Irishman listened as the crowd again cheered “RUN, RUN”.
The Irishman enjoyed the game and began screaming with the fans. The fifth batter came up and four balls went by. The umpire called “walk” and the batter started his slow trot to first base. The Irishman stood up and screamed, “R-R-Run ye bastard, run!”
The people around him began laughing. Embarrassed, the Irishman sat back down. A friendly fan noted the man’s embarrassment leaned over and explained – “He can’t run – he’s got four balls.”
The Irishman stood up, took a long breath and screamed, “Walk with pride, lad!”

Irish-Final Request [2003-10-11]

by On the River, posted in Irish, marriage, RELIGION

Deborah Clancy goes up to Father O’Grady after his Sunday morning service, and she’s in tears.
He says, “So what’s bothering you, Deborah my dear?”
She says, “Oh, Father, I’ve got terrible news. My husband passed away last night.”
The priest says, “Oh, Deborah, that’s terrible. Tell me, Deborah, did he have any last requests?”
She says, “That he did, Father.”
The priest says, “What did he ask, Deborah?”
She says, “He said, ‘Please Deborah, put down that damn gun…’

Irish-What a Way to Go [2002-02…]

by On the River, posted in Irish

AKA Industrial Accident

Sheila O’Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Jerry Finnegan arrives at her door. “Sheila, may I come in?” he asks. “I’ve something ‘to tell ya.”
“Of course you can come in, you’re always welcome, Jerry. But where’s my husband?”
“That’s what I’m here to be tellin’ ya, Sheila. There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery…”
“Oh, God no!” cries Sheila. “Please don’t tell me..”
“I must, Sheila. Your husband Danny is dead and gone. I’m sorry.”
Finally, she looked up at Jerry. “How did it happen, Jerry?”
“It was terrible, Sheila. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout and drowned.”
“Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Jerry. Did he at least go quickly?”
“Well, no Sheila… no. Fact is, he got out three times to pee.”