Irish Jokes — most commented jokes

O'Connell was staggering home with a pint of booze in his back pocket when he slipped and fell heavily. Struggling to his feet, he felt something wet running down his leg.

"Please, God," he implored, "let it be blood!"

There's these four Irishmen in a bar, all drinking Guinness. One of them is looking rather puzzled, so another turns to him and asks him what's the matter.

- 1st Irishman: Well, I was just trying to remember what 2 plus 2 is.

- 2nd Irishman: Oh, that's easy, it's 147.

- 1st Irishman: No no no, that can't be right. How about you, Fergus, do you know what 2 plus 2 is?

- 3rd Irishman: Hmmm ... could it be Wednesday, perhaps?

- 1st Irishman: No no no, that doesn't sound right either. How about you Pat, do you know?

- 4th Irishman: Simple, the answer is 4.

- 1st Irishman: Of course! How did you work it out?!

- 4th Irishman: Aha, that's where brains come in! I subtracted 147 from Wednesday!

Tim Shandy stepped into the Warm Spoon, a popular Galway tavern.

To Mike Callahan, the barkeep, Shandy said "Mike, I'll be havin' three whiskeys."

Callahan set up three glasses and began to pour. "Now, Timothy, it's not the usual thing for you to ask for three whiskeys. It's celebratin', you are."

"Ahh, ye know me too well, Micheal, ye do. Truth, and I'm celebrating me first blow job."

Callahan smiled benevolently and set a fourth glass on the bar.

"Now, that's special," he said. "For an old customer like y'rself, here's a fourth on the house, so I may be sharin' your celebration with you."

Shandy shook his head, and replied "'Tis verra kind of ye, Micheal, but I'm thinkin' if three won't get rid of the taste, four won't either."

Tim Kelly was walking therough a dim passageway when someone spoke to him. "Good evenin', Kelly," said the muffled figure. "Don't ye be knowin' your old friend Grogan any more?"

Kelly stared at Grogan, whose face was a patchwork of bandages and adhesive plaster. One arm was in a sling and he was leaning on a crutch.

"Saints!" cried Kelly. "Was ye hit by a train, Grogan, or did ye merely jump from the trestle?"

"It could've been both," said Grogan, "considerin' the feel of it. But the truth is, I was in bed with Murphy's wife when Murphy himself comes in with a murtherin' big shillelagh in his hand, and the inconsiderate creature beat the livin' bejazus outa me."

"He did indade," said Kelly. "But couldn't ye defend y'rself, Grogan? Hadn't ye nothin' in your own hand?"

"Only Mrs. Murphy's ass," said Grogan. "It's a beautiful thing in itself, but not worth a dom in a fight."

"Well, Mrs. O'Connor, so you want a divorce?" the solicitor questioned his client. "Tell me about it. Do you have a grudge?"

"Oh, no," replied Mrs. O'Connor. "Shure now, we have a carport."

The solicitor tried again. "Well, does the man beat you up?"

"No, no," said Mrs. O'Connor, looking puzzled. "I'm always first out of bed."

Still hopeful, the solicitor tried once again. "Well, does he go in for unnatural connubial practices?"

"Shure now, he plays the flute, but I don't think he knows anything about the connubial."

Now desperate, the solicitor pushed on. "What I'm trying to find out are what grounds you have."

"Bless ye, sor. We live in a flat -- not even a window box, let alone grounds."

"Mrs. O'Connor," the solicitor said in considerable exasperation, "you need a reason that the court can consider. What is the reason for you seeking this divorce?"

"Ah, well now," said the lady, "Shure it's because the man can't hold an intelligent conversation."

An Irish man went to the courthouse to change his name legally changed. When he replied, the desk clerk asked, "Can I help you sir?"

Our man said "Yes, I would like to change my name."

"What is your current name?" asked the clerk.

"Martin Arsehole," replied the man.

The clerk laughed, and said "I can see why you want a change. What would you like your new name to be?"

"Tim."

What's the difference between an Irish wedding and an Irish funeral?
→ One less drunk.

Two Irish lads had been out shacking up with their girl friends. One felt guilty and decided he should stop at the church and confess.

He went into the confession booth and told the Father, "Father, I have sinned. I have committed fornication with a lady. Please forgive me."

The Father said, "Tell me who the lady was."

The lad said he couldn't do that and the Father said he couldn't grant him forgiveness unless he did.

"Was it Mollie O'Grady?" asked the Father.

"No."

"Was it Rosie Kelly?"

"No."

"Was it that red-headed wench Tessie O'Malley?"

"No."

"Well then," said the Father, "You'll not be forgiven."

When the lad met his friend outside the friend asked, "So, did you find forgiveness."

"No," said the other, "but I picked up three good prospects!"

A man stumbles up to the only other patron in a bar and asks if he could buy him a drink.

"Why of course," comes the reply.

The first man then asks: "Where are you from?"

"I'm from Ireland," replies the second man.

The first man responds: "You don't say, I'm from Ireland too! Let's have another round to Ireland."

"Of course," replies the second man.

Curious, the first man then asks: "Where in Ireland are you from?"

"Dublin," comes the reply.

"I can't believe it," says the first man. "I'm from Dublin too! Let's have another drink to Dublin."

"Of course," replies the second man.

Curiosity again strikes and the first man asks: "What school did you go to?"

"Saint Mary's," replies the second man, "I graduated in '62."

"This is unbelievable!", the first man says. "I went to Saint Mary's and I graduated in '62, too!"

About that time in comes one of the regulars and sits down at the bar. "What's been going on?" he asks the bartender.

"Nothing much," replies the bartender. "The O'Mally twins are drunk again."

An Irishman's been at a pub all night drinking. The bartender finally says that the bar is closed. So he stands up to leave and falls flat on his face. He figures he'll crawl outside and get some fresh air and maybe that will sober him up.

Once outside he stands up and falls flat on his face. So he crawls home and at the door stands up and falls flat on his face. He crawls through the door and up the stairs.

When he reaches his bed he tries one more time to stand up. This time he falls right into bed and is sound asleep.

He awakens the next morning to his wife standing over him shouting at him. "So, you've been out drinking again!!"

"How did you know?" he asks.

"The pub called, you left your wheelchair there again."