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Q: How can you tell if an Irishman is having a good time?
A: He's Dublin over with laughter!
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St. Patrick's Day Jokes
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Q: Why did St. Patrick drive the snakes out of Ireland?
A: He couldn't afford plane fare.
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Q: What's Irish and stays out all night?
A: Patty O'furniture!
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Q: How did the Irish Jig get started?
A: Too much to drink and not enough restrooms!
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The blind farmer was often taken for a walk in the fields by a kind neighbor. However kindly the neighbor might have been, he was undoubtedly a coward. When a bull charged towards them one day, he abandoned the blind man.
The bull, puzzled by a lack of fear, nudged the farmer in the back. He turned very quickly, caught the bull by the horns and threw it to the ground with a bump that left it breathless.
"Aidan," said the neighbor, "I never knew you were so strong."
"Faith, and if I could have got that fella off the handlebars of the bicycle I'd have thrashed him properly."
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"Young man," said the judge, looking sternly at the defendant. "It's alcohol and alcohol alone that's responsible for your present sorry state!"
"I'm glad to hear you say that," replied Murphy, with a sigh of relief. "Everybody else says it's all my fault!"
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The local District Judge had given the defendant a lecture on the evils of drink. But in view of the fact that this was the first time the man had been drunk and incapable, the case was dismissed on payment of ten shillings costs.
"Now don't let me ever see your face again," said the Justice sternly as the defendant turned to go.
"I'm afraid I can't promise that, sir," said the released man.
"And why not?"
"Because I'm the barman at your regular pub!"
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Monahan stumbled into a saloon, half crocked. "Say," he said to the bartender, "how tall is a penguin?"
"About two and a half feet."
"Thank God!" cried Monahan. "I thought I ran over a nun!"
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Paddy was an inveterate drunkard. The priest met him one day, and gave him a strong lecture about drink.
He said, "If you continue drinking as you do, you'll gradually get smaller and smaller, and eventually you'll turn into a mouse."
This frightened the life out of Paddy. He went home that night, and said to his wife, "Bridget....if you should notice me getting smaller and smaller, will ye kill that blasted cat?"
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A surgeon and an architect, both English, were joined by an Irish politician, and all fell to arguing as to whose profession was the oldest.
Said the surgeon, "Eve was made from Adam's rib, and that surely was a surgical operation."
"Maybe," said the architect, "but prior to that, order was created out of chaos, and that was an architectural job."
"Shure now," interrupted the politician, "but somebody created the chaos first."
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Some years ago, Michael J. Flanagan, a successful New York contractor, was standing on the deck of the Staten Island Ferry when a car got loose and sent him into the river where he drowned.
The following Sunday his widow, all decked out in deepest black, was standing on the church steps after Mass, receiving condolences and enjoying every minute of it, when an old friend of the contractor came up.
"I'm sorry, Mary, for your trouble," offered the friend. "Did Mike leave you well fixed?"
"Oh, he did!" she said. "He left me almost a half million dollars."
"Well now, that's not bad for a man who couldn't read or write."
"Nor swim either," added the widow.
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The American tourist in Dublin had been complaining a great deal about the food.
"Here," he said to the waitress holding out a piece of meat for inspection, "do you call that pig?"
"Which end of the fork, sir?" the waitress asked sweetly.
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Traveling on the train
There was an Irishman, an Englishman and Claudia Schiffer sitting together in a carriage in a train going through Tasmania. Suddenly the train went through a tunnel and as it was an old style train there were no lights in the carriages and it went completely dark.
Then there was this kissing noise and the sound of a really loud slap. When the train came out of the tunnel, Claudia Schiffer and the Irishman were sitting as if nothing had happened and the Englishman had his hand against his face as he had been slapped there.
The Englishman was thinking: "The Irish fella must have kissed Claudia Schiffer and she missed him and slapped me instead."
Claudia Schiffer was thinking: "The English fella must have tried to kiss me and actually kissed the Irishman and got slapped for it."
The Irishman was thinking: "This is great! The next time the train goes through a tunnel I'll make another kissing noise and slap that English idiot again."
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The Boston taxi driver backed into the stationary fruit stall and within seconds he had a cop beside him.
"Name?"
"Brendan O'Connor."
"Same as mine. Where are you from?"
"County Cork."
"Same as me......"
The policeman paused with his pen in the air.
"Hold on a moment and I'll come back and talk about the old county. I want to say something to this fella that ran into the back of your cab."
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The origin of the bagpipes was being discussed and the representatives of different nations were eagerly disclaiming responsibility for the instrument.
Finally, and Irishman said, "Well, I'll tell you the truth about it. The Irish invented them and sold them to the Scots as a joke; and the Scots haven't seen the joke yet!"
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This is a true story of the late Irish author Brendan Behan who one night collapsed in a diabetic coma in a Dublin street. It was at a time when he was at the height of his drunken notoriety and passes-by naturally thought he was dead drunk. They took him to the nearby surgery of one of Dublin's most fashionable and respected doctors. The doctor decided to take a cardiograph and, somewhat nervous of his patient, thought to humor him. He explained the workings of the cardiograph needle as it registered the faint heartbeats of the very sick and semiconscious Brendan.
"That needle there is writing down your pulses, Mr. Behan, and I suppose, in its own way, it is probably the most important thing you have ever written."
To which Behan replied: "Aye, and it's straight from me heart, too."
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Three old ladies met on the street on a very stormy day. The wind was so strong and loud that they had difficulty in hearing each other.
"It's windy," said one.
"No, it's Thursday," said the next.
"So am I," said the third. "Let's go and have a drink!"
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Two Irish friends greeted each other while waiting their turn at the bank window. "This reminds me of Finnegan," remarked one.
"What about Finnegan?" inquired the other.
"'Tis a story that Finnegan died, and when he greeted St. Peter, he said: 'It's a fine job you've had here for a long time.' 'Well, Finnegan,' said St. Peter, 'here we count a million years as a minute and a million dollars as a cent.' 'Ah!' said Finnegan, 'I'm needing cash. Lend me a cent.' 'Sure,' said St. Peter, 'just wait a minute.'"
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Hennessy wasn't a very good looking fellow to start with. Now his business had failed, and his wife and family had left him. Depressed and distracted, he was standing near the edge of the bridge, contemplating suicide. Suddenly, he sensed that someone was behind him, and turning around he saw an ugly little old leprechaun.
"Don't jump," she said, and I'll grant you three wishes."
"Right," he said. "my first wish is to have $100,000."
She said, "When you check your account, you will find that you are in credit to that amount."
He then said, "My second wish is to have my wife and children back."
She said, "They will be there when you get home."
He said, "My third wish is to be tall and handsome."
She said, When you look in the mirror, you will find that your wish has been granted." Then she added, "I want you to do something in return for me. I want you to kiss me."
He looked at her and shuddered at the thought. But under the circumstances he thought he should do as she wanted. He took her in his arms and kissed her again and again.
She said, "What age are you?"
He replied, "I'm forty."
She said, "Don't you think that you're a bit too old to be believing in leprechauns?"
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"And how's yer wife, Pat?"
"Sure, she do be awful sick."
"Is ut dangerous she is?"
"No, she's too weak t' be dangerous anymore!"
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