Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just
> been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is
> broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.
> "What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender. "Jamie O'Conner
> and me had a fight," says Paddy.
>
> "That little squirt, O'Conner," says Sean, "he couldn't do that
> to you, he must have had something in his hand." "That he did,"
> says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he
> gave me with it." "Well," says Sean, "you should have defended
> yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?"
>
> "That I did," said Paddy... "Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of
> beauty it was, but useless in a fight."
ok, so it wasn't a st paddy's day joke- but it was def irish
> been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is
> broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.
> "What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender. "Jamie O'Conner
> and me had a fight," says Paddy.
>
> "That little squirt, O'Conner," says Sean, "he couldn't do that
> to you, he must have had something in his hand." "That he did,"
> says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he
> gave me with it." "Well," says Sean, "you should have defended
> yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?"
>
> "That I did," said Paddy... "Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of
> beauty it was, but useless in a fight."
ok, so it wasn't a st paddy's day joke- but it was def irish