Jokes of the Irish and their drinking

An Irishman who had a little too much to drink is driving home from the city one night and, of course his car is weaving violently all over the road.

A cop pulls him over. “So,” says the cop to the driver,  “where have ya been?”

” Why, I’ve been to the pub of course,” slurs the drunk.

” Well,” says the cop, “it looks like you’ve had quite  a few to drink this evening.”

“I did all right,” the drunk says with a smile.

“Did you know,” say’s 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,” sighs the drunk. “For a minute there, I thought I’d lost me hearing!”

 

 

Brenda O’Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door. “Brenda, may I come in?” he asks.  “I’ve somethin’ to tell ya”.

“Of course you can come in, you’re always welcome, Tim. But where is my husband?”

“That’s what I’m here to be telling ya, Brenda. “there was an accident down at the Guinness brewery..”
“Oh, God no!” cries Brenda. “Please don’t tell me.”

“I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I’m sorry.”

Finally, she looked up at Tim. “How did it happen, Tim?”

“It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout and drowned.”

“Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me truth, Tim.  Did he at least go quickly?”

“Well, Brenda… No. In fact, he got out three times to pee.”

 

 

I was reading an article last night about fathers and sons, and memories came flooding back to the time I took my son out for his first drink.

Off we went to our local bar, which is only two blocks from the house.

I got him a Guinness Stout.  He didn’t like it – so I drank it.

Then I got him an Old Style.  He didn’t like it either, so I drank it.

It was the same with the Coors and the Bud.

By the time we got down to the Irish whiskey . . .

I could hardly push the stroller back home.

 

 

A drunk staggers into a Catholic Church, enters a confessional booth, sits down, but says nothing. The Priest coughs a few times to get his attention but the drunk continues to sit there.

Finally, the Priest pounds three times on the wall.

The drunk mumbles, “ain’t no use knockin’,

there’s no paper on this side either!”

 

Chris George provides reliable PR & GR counsel and effective advocacy. Need a go-to writer and experienced communicator? Call 613-983-0801 @ CG&A COMMUNICATIONS.

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