Éireann go Brách!

McQuillan walked into a bar 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 the bartender, who was puzzled over what McQuillan had done, "what was that all about?"

"Nothin', said the Irishman, "my wife just sent me out for a jar of olives!"



Two Irishmen were sitting at a pub having beer and watching the brothel across the street. They saw a Baptist minister walk into the brothel, and one of them said, "Aye, 'tis a shame to see a man of the cloth goin' bad."

Then they saw a rabbi enter the brothel, and the other Irishman said, "Aye, 'tis a shame to see that the Jews are fallin' victim to temptation as well."

Then they see a catholic priest enter the brothel, and one of the Irishmen said, "What a terrible pity...one of the girls must be dying.

- - -

Mary O'Malley goes up to Father O'Grady's after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears.

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

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

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

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

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

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



At a world brewing convention in the States, the CEOs of various brewing organizations retired to the bar at the end of the first day's conference for a bit of refreshment...

Brucie, CEO of Fosters, shouts to the barmaid, "In 'Strylya, we make the best bladdy beer in the world, - so pour me a bladdy Fosters, Miss."

Bob, CEO of Budweiser, calls out next: "In the States, we brew the finest beers of the world, and I make the king of them all, - so gimme a Bud."

Hans steps up next: "In Germany ve invented der beer. Giff me ein Becks, - ya ist der real King of beers, danke."

Paddy, CEO of Guinness, steps forward: "Miss, would ya be pleased to give me a diet coke, wit' ice and lemon. Tanks."

The others stare at him in stunned silence, amazement written all over their faces. Eventually Brucie asks: "Are ye not goin' to 'ave a Guinness, Paddy?"

Paddy replies "Well now, if you fookin' pansies ahren't a-drinkin', - t'en neither am I!"




An Irish gent walked into a neighborhood bar in New York one evening and ordered three mugs of beer.

When they were served he took them to a back table, and sat by himself drinking from one mug, then the next until all three were empty. Then he returned to the bar and ordered three more.

The bartender told him, "Sir, I am happy to serve you, but if you order one beer at a time it will stay fresher than if you take three at once."

The fellow replied, "No, and ye don't understand. I'm one of three broithers, separated by the great sea. Me oldest brother emigrated to Australia many years ago. My youngest brother still lives with me mother in County Cork, and here I am in America. Still, we agreed that on every Friday, we would each order two beers apiece and drink them in memory of the brothers who were not with us."

The whole bar had listened to this explanation.

For months each Friday the Irishman would show up in late afternoon. Order his three beers. Drink them. Order his three refills. Drink them. Then leave the bar.

Then one Friday, the Irishman walked to the bar and ordered two beers. The whole pub grew silent and watched as he silently drank the two beers.

When he returned to the bar for his refills the bartender said, "Paddy, I want to offer my condolences in your time of sorrow."

The Irishman looked puzzled, and asked "What do ye mean?"

"Well, you only ordered two beers. I assume something must have happened to one of your brothers."

"Oh, no, nothing of the sort! Me wife converted to Baptist, and I've had to give up me drinking. Didn't affect me brothers though."