Whisht . . . away with ye . . .

What . . . no stereotype jokes about drunken Paddies? Ya disappoint me . . .

many's the long drunken afternoons and evenings i've enjoyed on the cottage deck with my best irish mates paddy o'furniture and paddy o'lanterns

T'anks, Boyo . . . i despaired of my fellow man . . .

So Pat and Mike are on their way to a wake at Digger O'Dell's Funeral Parlor.
They stop in at Monahan's Tavern to wet their whistle and one drink leads
to another. They stagger into the railway station by mistake and start
walking along the tracks.

"Tis a long staircase, to be sure," says Pat.
"Aye, and such a terrible low bannister!"

Paddy and Micky are out of work, so Micky says: "Let's go down by de Garda station, t'ey're always on the look out for big, fine, healt'y boys like us!" So off they go to the Garda station, and Paddy has a seat while Micky goes in to see the Sergeant.

Sergeant, i'm a big, fine, healt'y boy, so i am, and i'm after joinin' de Garda!

Oh Jaysus, Micky . . . but yer so stoo-pid, i don't suppose ye know who killed our Lord Jaysus Christ!

I don't, but i'll find out.

So Micky comes out and Paddy asks him how it went.

Oh Great . . . t'ey put me on a murder case!

There was once an Irishman named Murphy who walked into an American Bar. He sat down and asked the Bartender "Give me three shots o' your finest Irish Whiskey!" the Bartender complies.

After about a week the bartender asks, "Murphy, would it be better for yeh if I put all three shots of Irish Whiskey into one glass?"

Murphy replied, "well no. See I have two other brothers back at home, Patrick and Owen, and everytime I come into a Pub or Bar I order a shot for each o' them so I can remember the good times."

Well, after another week of this routine, Murphy comes into the bar and only asks for two shots of Irish Whiskey. The bartender immediately says "Murphy, is everything ok? Did somethin' happen to one of your brothers?" "Oh no", Murphy said, "I just decided to quit drinkin!"

'Tis for the fake Irish!!!

Nevertheless, a little tribute from me Irish kin...

Here's another Irish classic . . .

Here's the true Irish sense of humor for ya . . .

This American couple are driving around the west country, and get hopelessly lost. Even though it's against all of his principles, the husband agrees to ask for directions . . .

Honey . . . Honey . . . look, there's a farmer over there in that field.

So, heaving a theatrical sigh, he pulls over, gets out, climbs down through the muck and mud in the ditch, over the stone wall, across the plowed field (with the dirt clumping on his expensive loafers), over the stone wall, across the plowed field and up to the farmer . . .

Uh . . . how ya doin'? Uh, can you tell me how to get to Lisdoonvarna?

No, i cannot. I don't know where Lisdoonvarna is.

Uhm . . . well . . . OK, then, thanks anyway . . . have a good day.

So, back he goes over the plowed field, over the stone wall, across the plowed field, over the stone wall, down through the muck and mud in the ditch, and he's leaning on the hood, trying to clean off his shoes, when his wife calls out to him . . .

Honey. . . Honey . . . there's another man over there, and that farmer's waving at us.

So, he heaves another big sigh, goes down through the muck and mud in the ditch, over the stone wall, across the plowed field, over the stone wall, across the plowed field and up to the farmer . . .

Oi'd like to introduce me brither Micheal, and he don't know where Lisdoonvarna is nayther.

the clancy brothers and tommy makem often embellished there concerts with stories and anecdotes, here's the story they often told before performing the song the old orange flute

a protestant gentleman fell in love with a catholic girl and they decided to marry, after awhile the man was still having some problems with his conversion, he went to see the for some advice

he told the priest he had trouble getting his protestantism out of his head and it was making his switch to catholicism more difficult

the priest suggested prayer and to try repeating to himself, "i'm a catholic i'm not a protestant, i'm a catholic, i'm not a protestant" and eventually it might penetrate his thick skull

about a month later on a friday the priest had occasion to pass by the couples cottage, he knocked on the door and when the wife answered, the priest smelled a distinct oder that one shouldn't encounter in a good catholic home on the given day, he asked after her husband and was told he was in the kitchen

the priest entered the kitchen to see the man at the stove with a great big steak in the pan, ladling gravy over it and repeating, "you're a trout, you're not a steak, you're a trout, you're not a steak"

(can't seem to find a copy of the clancy's singing it)

I knew an Irish guy once.

reminds of the bookshop sketch from a monty python record

customer: do you have a book called "101 ways to start a fight"?
bookseller: by?
customer: an irish gentlemen i believe

And the snakes weren't banished by St Patrick, either. It was the weather thad did for them.

That reminds me of my daughter who thought she didn't like fish and I had cooked salmon and she'd said, 'This is really good chicken, ' (she was about three or four) and her brother said, 'It's not chicken- it's fish' and she said, 'No, I don't like fish and I like this,' and I said, 'It really is fish Olivia,' and then she said, 'Well, I call it chicken.'

I'm going to see u2 at Glastonbury!!!

Thanks for that one, Aidan.