Drunk Flynn

[Mike]

Flynn staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Paddy. He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Mary.

He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step. 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 not to yell, Flynn sprung up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding. He managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he could on each place he saw blood.

He then hid the now almost empty Band-Aid box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed.

In the morning, Flynn woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Mary staring at him from across the room.

She said, 'You were drunk again last night weren't you?'

Flynn said, 'Why you say such a mean thing?'

'Well,' Mary said, 'it could be the open front door, it could be the broken 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 Band-Aids stuck on the hall mirror.

[hellcat]

Ha Ha Ha...Very Good...Flynn and Paddy....I bet they're Australian....

[Mike]

I know its one of those stereotyping gags but it made me laugh

[hellcat]

Hi Mike.....your'll just love this one......


AN IRISH GHOST STORY

This story happened a while ago in Dublin, and even though it sounds like an Alfred Hitchcock tale, it's true.

John Bradford, a Dublin University student, was on the side of the road hitchhiking on a very dark night and in the midst of a storm.

The night was rolling on and no car went by. The storm was so strong he could hardly see a few feet ahead of him. Suddenly, he saw a car slowly come toward him and stop. John, 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 window and turned the wheel. John, paralyzed with terror, watched as the hand repeatedly came through the window, 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 it. 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 people walked in from the stormy night. They, like John, were also soaked and out of breath. Looking around, and seeing John Bradford sobbing at the bar, one said to the other..

"Look, Paddy... there's that idiot that got in the car while we were pushing it!!"


Slan agus Slainte

[Mike]

Brilliant

[hellcat]

Dear Wife:

I'm writing you this letter to tell you that I'm leaving you forever. I've been a good man to you for seven years and I have nothing to show for it.

These last two weeks have been hell. Your boss called to tell me that you quit your job today and that was the last straw.

Last week, you came home and didn't even notice that I had a new haircut, had cooked your favourite meal and even wore a brand new pair of silk boxers. You ate in two minutes, and went straight to sleep after watching all of your soaps. You don't tell me you love me anymore; you don't want sex or anything that connects us as husband and wife.

Either you're cheating on me or you don't love me anymore; whatever the case, I'm gone.

Your EX-Husband

P.S.
Don't try to find me. Your SISTER and I are moving away to West Virginia together! Have a great life!

Dear Ex-Husband -

Nothing has made my day more than receiving your letter. It's true that you and I have been married for seven years, although a good man is a far cry from what you've been.

I watch my soaps so much because they drown out your constant whining and griping. Too bad that doesn't work.

I DID notice when you got a hair cut last week, but the first thing that came to mind was 'You look just like a girl!' Since my mother raised me not to say anything if you can't say something nice, I didn't comment.

And when you cooked my favourite meal, you must have gotten me confused with MY SISTER, because I stopped eating pork seven years ago.

About those new silk boxers: I turned away from you because the €49.99 price tag was still on them, and I prayed that it was a coincidence that my sister had just borrowed fifty euro from me that morning.

After all of this, I still loved you and felt that we could work it out. So when I hit the lottery jackpot for ten million euro, I quit my job and bought us two tickets to Jamaica. But when I got home you were gone. Everything happens for a reason, I guess.

I hope you have the fulfilling life you always wanted. My lawyer said that the letter you wrote ensures you won't get a penny from me. So take care.


Signed,

Your Ex-Wife, Rich As Hell and Free!


P.S. I don't know if I ever told you this, but my sister Tricia was born Patrick. I hope that's not a problem.

[TheGuru]

Great twist

[manor]

As soon as she had finished parochial school, a bright young girl named Lena shook the dust of Ireland off her shoes and made her way to New York where before long, she became a successful performer in show business. Eventually she returned to her home town for a visit and on a Saturday night went to confession in the church which she had always attended as a child.

In the confessional Father Sullivan recognized her and began asking her about her work. She explained that she was an acrobatic dancer, and he wanted to know what that meant. She said she would be happy to show him the kind of thing she did on stage. She stepped out of the confessional and within sight of Father Sullivan, she went into a series of cartwheels, leaping splits, handsprings and backflips.

Kneeling near the confessional, waiting their turn, were two middle-aged ladies. They witnessed Lena's acrobatics with wide eyes, and one said to the other. "Will you just look at the penance Father Sullivan is givin' out this night, and me without me bloomers on!"

[hellcat]

Brilland

[hellcat]

After getting all of Pope Benedict's luggage loaded into the limo, (and he doesn't travel light), the driver notices the Pope still standing on the curb.

'Excuse me, Your Holiness,' says the driver,' Would you please take your seat so we can leave?'

'Well, to tell you the truth,' says the Pope, 'they never let me drive at the Vatican when I was a cardinal, and now that I'm Pope, I'd really like to drive today.'

'I'm sorry, Your Holiness, but I cannot let you do that. I'd lose my job! And what if something should happen?' protests the driver, wishing he'd never gone to work that morning.

'Who's going to tell? Besides, there might be something extra in it for you,' says the Pope with a smile.

Reluctantly, the driver gets in the back as the Pope climbs in behind the wheel. The driver quickly regrets his decision when, after exiting the airport, the Pontiff floors it, accelerating the limo to 105 mph.

(Remember, he's German.)

'Please slow down, Your Holiness!' pleads the worried driver, but the Pope keeps the pedal to the metal until they hear sirens. 'Oh, Dear God, I'm gonna lose my license -- and my job!' moans the driver.

The Pope pulls over and rolls down the window as the cop approaches, but the cop takes one look at him, goes back to his motorcycle, and gets on the radio. 'I need to talk to the Chief,' he says to the dispatcher.

The Chief gets on the radio and the cop tells him that he's stopped a limo going a hundred and five.

'So bust him,' says the Chief.

'I don't think we want to do that, he's really big,' said the cop.

The Chief exclaimed,' All the more reason!'

'No, I mean really important,' said the cop with a bit of persistence.

The Chief then asked, 'Who ya got there, the Mayor?'

Cop: 'Bigger.'

Chief: ' The Governor?'

Cop: 'Bigger.'

Chief: 'The President?'

Cop: 'Bigger.'

'Well,' said the Chief, 'Who is it?'

Cop: 'I think it's God!'

The Chief is stumped, ' You been drinking, John? '

Cop: ' No Sir.'

Chief : ' Then what makes you think it's God?'

Cop: 'He's got the Pope as a chauffeur.'