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Tim O’Rourke was walking his Irish Setter in the country side. He picked up a stick and threw it, the dog went and retrieved it and brought it back. Tim then threw it in a different direction and the dog once again went and retrieved it and brought it back.

Tim then threw it in another direction and it landed in a small lake. The dog went down to the water’s edge, walked across the water, picked up the stick and brought it back.

Well, Tim was astounded. He couldn’t believe what he had seen and threw stick in the lake again, and the dog once again walked across the water to bring the stick back. As he went into town, he promised that he would show his dog’s wonderful new trick to the first person he came across.

Once in town the first person the dog owner came across was the town drunk Declan Dunphy. Tim dragged Declan to the lake to show him what his dog could do.

Once again, the dog owner threw the stick into the small lake and the dog went to the water’s edge, walked across the water, picked up the stick and brought it back to it’s owner. Once the drunk saw that, he turned to the dog owner and said;

“Why that’s great, mister!
But when are you going to teach your dog how to swim?”

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 a customer, who was puzzled over what McQuillan had done. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing,” said the Irishman, “my wife just sent me out for a jar of olives.”

An American tourist travelling in Limerick came across a little antique shop in which he was lucky enough to pick up, for a mere $150, the skull of Saint Patrick. Included in the price was a certificate of the skull’s authenticity, signed by Saint Patrick himself.

Ten years later the tourist returned to Ireland and asked the antique shop owner if he had any more bargains. “I’ve got the very thing for you,” said the Irishman. “It’s the genuine skull of Saint Patrick”. “You swindler!” shouted the American. “You sold me that ten years ago,” and, producing the skull, added, “Look, they’re not even the same size!”

“You have it all wrong,” said the Irishman. “This is the skull of Saint Patrick when he was a lad.”

Three Irishmen, Paddy, Sean and Shamus, were stumbling home late one night and found themselves on the road which led past the old graveyard.

“Come have a look over here,” says Paddy, “It’s Michael O’Grady’s grave, God bless his soul. He lived to the ripe old age of 87.”

“That’s nothing,” says Sean, “here’s one named Patrick O’Toole. It says here that he was 95 when he died.”

Just then, Shamus yells out, “But here’s a fella that died when he was 145 years old!”

“What was his name?” asks Paddy.

Shamus lights a match to see what else is written on the stone marker, and exclaims, “Miles, from Dublin.”

Q: Why did God make beer?
A: So the Irish wouldn’t take over the world.



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