Irish funnies

Loaded with sterotypical Irish drinking stories, but still funny. BBB

An Irishman, Englishman and Scotsman go into a pub and each order a pint of Guinness. Just as the bartender hands them over, three flies buzz down and one lands in each of the pints. The Englishman looked disgusted, pushed his pint away and demanded another pint. The Scotsman picked out the fly, shruged, and took a long swallow. The Irishman reached in to the glass, pinched the fly between his fingers and shook him while yelling, "Spit it out, ya bastard! Spit it out!"
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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.

"What happened to you?" asked Sean, the bartender.

"Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," sayed Paddy.

"That little sod, O'Conner," said Sean, "he couldn't do that to you,
he must have had something in his hand."

"That he did," said Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it."

"Well," said 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."
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Three Irishmen, Paddy, Sean and Seamus, were stumbling home from the pub late one night and found themselves on the road which led past the old graveyard.

"Come have a look over here," said Paddy, "it's Michael O'Grady's grave, God bless his soul. He lived to the ripe old age of 87."

"That's nothing", said Sean, "here's one named Patrick O'Tool, it says here that he was 95 when he died."

Just then, Seamus yelled out, "Good God, here's a fella that's 145!"

"What was his name?" asked Paddy. Seamus stumbles around a bit, awkwardly lights a match to see what else is written on the stone marker, and exclaims, "Miles, from Dublin.
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An Irishman who had a little too much to drink drove home from the city one night and, of course, his car was weaving violently all over the road. A cop pulled him over.

"So," said the cop to the driver, "where have ya been?"

"Why, I've been to the pub of course," slurred the drunk.

"Well," said the cop, "it looks like you've had quite a few to drink this evening."

"I did all right," the drunk said with a smile.

"Did you know," said the cop, standing straight and folding his arms
across his chest, "that a few intersections back, your wife fell out
of your car?"

"Oh, thank heavens," sighed the drunk. "For a minute there, I thought
I'd gone deaf."
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A drunk Irishman staggered into a Catholic Church, entered a confessional box, sat down but said nothing. The Priest coughed a few times to get his attention but the drunk just sat there. Finally, the Priest pounded three times on the wall.

The drunk mumbled, "Ain't no use knockin, there's no paper on this side either.
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Mary Clancy went up to Father O'Grady after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears.

He said, "So what's bothering you, Mary my dear?"

She said, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news. My husband passed away last night."

The priest said, "Oh, Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, did he have any last requests?"

She said, "That he did, Father..."

The priest said, "What did he ask, Mary?"

She said, "He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun...'"

HAPPY ST. PATTY'S DAY