Irish Humor

A woman is sitting at a bar.

A man approaches her. "Hi, honey," he says. "Want a little company?"

"Why?" asks the woman. "Do you have one to sell?"

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Q. Why are Irish jokes so simple?

A. So the English can understand them.

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Definition of an Irish husband: He hasn't kissed his wife for twenty years, but he will kill any man who does.

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The late Bishop Sheen stated that the reason the Irish fight so often among themselves is that they're always assured of having a worthy opponent.

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An American lawyer asked, "Paddy, why is it that whenever you ask an Irishman a question, he answers with another question?"

"Who told you that?" asked Paddy.

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Reilly went to trial for armed robbery. The jury foreman came out and announced, "Not guilty."

"That's grand!" shouted Reilly, "Does that mean I can keep the money?"

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Irish lass customer: "Could I be trying on that dress in the window?"

Shopkeeper: "I'd prefer that you use the dressing room."

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Mrs. Feeney shouted from the kitchen, "Is that you I hear spittin' in the vase on the mantle piece?"

"No," said himself,"but I'm gettin' closer all the time."

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Q. What do you call an Irishman who knows how to control a wife?

A. A bachelor.

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Finnegin: My wife has a terrible habit of staying up 'til two o'clockin the morning. I can't break her of it.

Murphy: What on earth is she doin' at that time?

Finnegin: Waitin' for me to come home.

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Slaney phoned the maternity ward at the hospital. "Quick!" he said, "Send an ambulance, my wife is goin' to have a baby!"

"Tell me, is this her first baby?" the intern asked.

"No, this is her husband, Kevin, speakin'."

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"O'Ryan," asked the druggist, "did that mudpack I gave you improve your wife's appearance?"

"It did surely," replied O'Ryan, "but it keeps fallin' off!"

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Did you hear about the Irish newlyweds who sat up all night on their honeymoon waiting for their sexual relations to arrive?

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My mother wanted me to be a priest. Can you imagine giving up your sex life and then once a week people come in to tell you the details and highlights of theirs?

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Father Guffy roared from the pulpit to his parishioners: "The drink has killed millions-- it rots their stomachs and they die in agony. Smoking has killed millions-- it coats your lungs and you die in agony. Overeating and consorting with loose women have also killed millions."

"Scuse me, Father," hollered Reagan from the back, "but what is it that kills the people who live right?"