Poor ol Paddy
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 shit,
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."