Two men were sitting next to each other at Murphys Pub in London.
After a while, one bloke looks at the other and says, I can’t help but think, from listening to you, that you’re from Ireland
The other bloke responds proudly, Yes, that I am!
The first one says, So am I! And where about from Ireland might you be?
The other bloke answers, I’m from Dublin, I am.
The first one responds, So am I!
Mother Mary and begora. And what street did you live on in Dublin?
The other bloke says, A lovely little area it was. I lived on McCleary Street in the old central part of town.
The first one says, Faith and it’s a small world. So did I! So did I! And to what school would you have been going?
The other bloke answers, Well now, I went to St. Marys, of course.
The first one gets really excited and says, And so did I. Tell me, what year did you graduate?
The other bloke answers, Well, now, let’s see. I graduated in 1964.
The first one exclaims, The Good Lord must be smiling down upon us! I can hardly believe our good luck at winding up in the same place tonight.
Can you believe it, I graduated from St. Marys in 1964 my own self!
About this time, Vicky walks up to the bar, sits down, and orders a drink.
Brian, the barman, walks over to Vicky, shaking his head and mutters, It’s going to be a long night tonight.
Vicky asks, Why do you say that, Brian?
The Murphy twins are drunk again.
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A Wise Old Gentleman Retired.
A wise old gentleman retired and purchased a modest home near a junior high school.
He spent the first few weeks of his retirement in peace and contentment.
Then a new school year began.
The very next afternoon three young boys, full of youthful, after-school enthusiasm, came down his street, beating merrily on every trash can they encountered.
The crashing percussion continued day after day until finally, the wise old man decided it was time to take some action.
The next afternoon, he walked out to meet the young percussionists as they banged their way down the street.
Stopping them, he said:
“You kids are a lot of fun. I like to see you express your exuberance like that. In fact, I used to do the same thing when I was your age.”
” Will you do me a favour? I’ll give you each a dollar if you’ll promise to come around every day and do your thing.”
The kids were elated and continued to do a bang-up job on the trash cans.
After a few days, the old-timer greeted the kids again, but this time he had a sad smile on his face.
“This recession’s really putting a big dent in my income,” he told them.
“From now on, I’ll only be able to pay you 50 cents to beat on the cans.”
The noisemakers were obviously displeased, but they did accept his offer and continued their afternoon ruckus.
A few days later, the wily retiree approached them again as they drummed their way down the street.
“Look,” he said.
“I haven’t received my pension cheque yet, so I’m not going to be able to give you more than 25 cents. Will that be okay?”
“A lousy 25 cents?” the drum leader exclaimed.
“If you think we’re going to waste our time, beating these cans around for 25 cents, you’re nuts! No way, mister. We quit!
And the old man lives peacefully.
