Post by vin on May 22, 2007 17:36:39 GMT 1
Paddy had been drinking at his local Dublin pub all day and most of the
night celebrating St Patrick's Day.
Mick, the bartender says, "You'll not be drinking anymore tonight
Paddy."
Paddy replies, "OK Mick, I'll be on my way then."
Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off. He falls flat on his
face. "Shoite" he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts
himself off.
He takes a step toward the door and falls flat on his face, "Shoite,
Shoite!"
He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just get to
the door and some fresh air he'll be fine. He belly crawls to the door
and shimmies up the door frame. He sticks his head outside and takes a
deep breath of fresh air, feels much better and takes a step out onto
the sidewalk and falls flat on his face.
"Bi'Jesus . . . I'm focked," he says.
He can see his house just a few doors down, and crawls to the door,
hauls himself up the door frame, opens the door and shimmies inside.
He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says "I can make it to the bed."
He takes a step into the room and falls flat on his face. He says "Fock
it" and falls into bed.
The next morning, his wife Jess comes into the room carrying a cup of
coffee and says, "Get up Paddy. Did you have a bit to drink last night?"
Paddy says, "I did Jess. I was fockin' pissed. But how'd you know?"
"Mick phoned . . . You left your wheelchair at the pub."
night celebrating St Patrick's Day.
Mick, the bartender says, "You'll not be drinking anymore tonight
Paddy."
Paddy replies, "OK Mick, I'll be on my way then."
Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off. He falls flat on his
face. "Shoite" he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts
himself off.
He takes a step toward the door and falls flat on his face, "Shoite,
Shoite!"
He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just get to
the door and some fresh air he'll be fine. He belly crawls to the door
and shimmies up the door frame. He sticks his head outside and takes a
deep breath of fresh air, feels much better and takes a step out onto
the sidewalk and falls flat on his face.
"Bi'Jesus . . . I'm focked," he says.
He can see his house just a few doors down, and crawls to the door,
hauls himself up the door frame, opens the door and shimmies inside.
He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says "I can make it to the bed."
He takes a step into the room and falls flat on his face. He says "Fock
it" and falls into bed.
The next morning, his wife Jess comes into the room carrying a cup of
coffee and says, "Get up Paddy. Did you have a bit to drink last night?"
Paddy says, "I did Jess. I was fockin' pissed. But how'd you know?"
"Mick phoned . . . You left your wheelchair at the pub."
