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An American walks into an Irish pub and says, "I'll give anyone $100 if they can drink 10 Guinness's in 10 minutes." Most people just ignore the absurd
bet and go back to their conversations. One guy even leaves the bar. A little while later that guy comes back and asks the American "Is that bet still on?" "Sure." So the bartender lines 10 Guinness's up on the bar the Irishman drinks them all in less than 10 minutes. As the American hands over the money he asks, "Where did you go when you left the pub?" The Irishman answers, "I went next door to the other pub to see if I could do it."
Padraic Flaherty came home drunk every evening toward eleven. Now, the Missus was never too happy about it, either. So one night she hides in the
cemetery that Padraic cuts through from the pub and figures to scare the beejeezus out of him. As poor Pat wanders by, up from behind a tombstone she jumps in a red devil costume screaming, "Padraic Sean Flaherty, sure and ya' don't give up you're drinkin' and it's to Hell I'll take ye'". Pat, undaunted, staggered back and demanded, "Who ARE you?" Too that the Missus replied, "I'm the divil ya' damned old fool". To which Flaherty remarked, "Damned glad to meet you sir, I'm married to yer sister."
Danaher staggered home late after another evening at the pub with his drinking buddies. Shoes in left hand to avoid waking his wife, he tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step in the darkened entryway. As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump. A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful. Managing to suppress a yelp, Danaher sprung up, pulled down his pants, and examined his lacerated and bleeding cheeks in the mirror of a nearby darkened hallway. He managed to find a large full box of Band-Aids and proceeded to place a patch as best he could on each place he saw blood. After hiding the now almost empty box, he managed to shuffle and stumble his way to bed. In the morning, Danaher awoke with searing pain in head and butt and his wife staring at him from across the room. She said, "You were drunk again last night." Forcing himself to ignore his agony, he looked meekly at her and replied, "Now, dear, why would you say such a mean thing?" "Well," she said, "it could be the open front door, it could be the glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops of blood trailing through the house, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but, mostly.... it’s all those damn Band-Aids stuck on the downstairs mirror.
Clancy was in Dublin on a business trip and decided to head to a local pub for a drink. Standing outside the bar was Sister Mary Kate holding a tin cup. As Clancy threw a few bucks into her cup the nun launched into a long tirade about the evils of alcohol. She went on and on about how alcohol was tearing apart the fabric of society and how it was the root of all the city’s problems. Slightly ticked off at having to listen to this, Clancy said, "Listen sister, I work hard for my money and sometimes at the end of a long day I like a drink or two that doesn’t make me a bad person. I have a wife I idolize and two wonderful kids at home. I provide for my family, I volunteer my time to several local service clubs and I contribute regularly to various charities. Yet you stand here and condemn me just because I drink the occasional sip of Jameson!" The nun was slightly taken aback and replied, "I see your point my son and I apologize if I offended you but the alcohol is such a powerful demon that all who consume it are doomed..." "Look there you go again," said Clancy. "How can you make such a sweeping statement. Have you ever even TRIED alcohol?" "Of course not!" gasped Sister Mary Kate, "The evil alcohol has never touched my lips." "Do you really think that one glass of booze can change you from a devout nun to some kind of evil degenerate?" "Well, I really don’t know ..." "I’ll tell you what, come into the bar with me and I’ll buy you a drink. One drink. I’ll prove to you that "evil" is not inside the glass, it’s inside the person." "Oh, I could never be seen going into such a den of inequity, it’s out of the question. However, your comment about evil residing in the person rather than the glass is quite intriguing. I must admit you’ve aroused a curiosity in me." "Well let’s go inside and settle this!" "No my son, I could never enter such a place... but how about this. Take my tin cup with you and fill it with this "Jameson" you mentioned. Bring it out to me and I’ll try it." "You’re on!" said Clancy. The nun removed all the change and handed him the tin cup. Clancy went into the bar and said to the bartender, "Two Jameson, and could you put one of them in this tin cup please?" The bartender sighed and asked, "Is that nun out there again?"
Irish liquor manufacturers have accepted the Health Ireland’s suggestion that the following warning labels be placed immediately on all varieties of alcohol containers:
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may create the illusion that you are tougher, smarter, faster and better looking than most people.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may leave you wondering what the hell happened to your bra and panties.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you are whispering when you are not.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol is a major factor in dancing like an idiot.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to tell your friends over and over again that you love them.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to think you can sing.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe that ex-lovers are
really dying for you to telephone them at four in the morning.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you can logically converse with members of the opposite sex without spitting.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to think people are laughing WITH you.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause pregnancy.
WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may be a major factor in getting your butt kicked.
WARNING: the crumsumpten of alcohol may Mack you tink you kan tpye rel gode
Mick O’Malley, a Dublin University student, was on the side of the road hitchhiking on a very dark night and in the midst of a storm. No cars were traveling that night. The storm was so strong he could hardly see a few feet ahead of him. Suddenly, he saw a car slowly coming towards him and stops. Mick, desperate for shelter and without thinking about it, got into the car and closed the door.... only to realize there was nobody behind the wheel and the engine wasn't on!! The car started moving slowly. John looked at the road ahead and saw a curve approaching. Scared, he started to pray, begging for his life. Then, just before the car hit the curve, a hand appeared through the open window and turned the wheel. John, paralyzed with terror, watched as the hand repeatedly came through the window to turn the car, but never touched or harmed him. Shortly thereafter John saw the lights of a pub appear down the road. So, gathering strength, he jumped out of the car and ran to the pub. Wet and out of breath, he rushed inside and started telling everybody about the horrible experience he had just had. A silence enveloped the pub when everybody realized he was crying and....wasn't drunk. Suddenly the door opened and two other men walked in from the stormy night. They, like Mick, were also soaked and out of breath. Looking around, and seeing Mick O’Malley sobbing at the bar, one said to the other...'Look Paddy...there's that freakin' idiot that got in the car while we were pushin' it.'
Sign in an Irish pub: "This establishment closes at 11 o'clock sharp. We are open from 10 a.m. until 11 p.m. and if you haven't had enough to drink at that hour the management feels that you haven't really been trying."
O’Ryan was too drunk to drive, so he wisely left his car parked and walked home. As he staggered along, he was stopped by a policeman. “What are you doing out here at 2 A.M.?” Said the officer. “I’m going to a lecture.” Slurred O’Ryan. “And who might be givin’ a lecture at this hour of the morning?” The cop asked. “My wife.” Said O’Ryan.
Sullivan walked into a pub and ordered martini after martini, each time removing the olives and placing them in a jar. When the jar was filled with olives and all the drinks consumed, the Irishman started to leave. "S'cuse me," said a customer, who was puzzled over what Sullivan had done. "What was that all about?" "Nothing at all," said the Irishman, "my wife just sent me out for a jar of olives."
Mick Flaherty had supped more Guinness than enough and had stumbled out of Quinn's bar and into the Sunday afternoon air. As his drunken eyes squinted to adjust to the light, an ambulance went by at great speed. Blue lights flashing and siren blaring, it roared up the street with Mick in full flight running after it. A hundred yards, then 200, 300, almost a quarter of a mile he tracked it until suddenly, lungs and legs giving out, he fell into the gutter. Then with his very last ounce of breath he roared: "You can keep your darned ice cream!"
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