St. Patrick's Skull

Paddy, a New Yorker pub owner flew to Knock Airport in the west of Ireland on business. As he walked down the stairs from the plane onto the runway he noticed a small Irishman standing beside a long table with an assortment of Human Skulls.

"What are you doing?" asked the American.

"I'm selling skulls," replied the Irishman.

"And what skulls do you have?" he asked.

"Well, I have the skulls of the most famous Irishmen that ever lived!" said the Irishman.

"That's great!" said Paddy. "Give me some names!"

"Well!" said the Irishman, pointing to various skulls. "That one there is James Joyce, the famous author and playwright, that one there is St. Brendan, the Navigator, that's Michael Collins the leader of the 1916 rising, and that one there is St. Patrick, the Patron Saint of Ireland ... god bless his soul."

"Sorry," said Paddy , "But did you say St. Patrick?"

"That's correct!" said the Irishman.

"I have to have that!" said Paddy and paid him $500.00 in cash.

Paddy flew back home and mounted his Skull on the wall in his pub. People came from all over America to view this famous Skull. He made a fortune over a five-year period and retired a very rich man. During his retirement, he decided to go back to visit Ireland, the land that made him a fortune. So Paddy flew back into Knock airport, and while walking down the stairs saw the same Irishman at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh my God!," said Paddy, "You're still here!?"

"Sure and begorrah, I am, still selling skulls," replied the Irishman.

"And what skulls do you have today?" said Paddy .

"Well, I have the skulls of the most famous Irishmen that ever lived!" said the Irishman.

"That's great!" said Paddy. "Who have you gat this time?"

"Well!" said the Irishman, pointing to various skulls. "That one there is James Joyce, the famous author and playwright, that one there is St. Brendan, the Navigator, that's Michael Collins the leader of the 1916 rising, and that one there is St. Patrick, the Patron Saint of Ireland ... god bless his soul."

"I'm sorry," said Paddy, "But did you say St. Patrick?"

"Aye, that I did!" said the Irishman.

"Well!" said Paddy, "I was here almost 7 years ago and you sold me a skull, a bit bigger than that one there, and you told me then that the skull was St. Patrick's."

"Oh yes!" said the Irishman, "I remember you now! Well, you see, this is St. Patrick when he was but a wee lad!"

Talking Clock

While proudly showing off his new apartment to friends, a college student led the way into the den.

"What is the big brass gong and hammer for?" one of his friends asked.

"That is the talking clock," the student replied.

"How's it work?" the friend asked.

"Watch," said the student, who then proceeded to give the gong an ear-shattering hit with the hammer.

Suddenly someone screamed from the other side of the wall, "KNOCK IT OFF, YOU IDIOT! It's 2:30 in the morning!"

One More for St. Pat's Day

Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door. "Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin' to tell ya."

"Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim. But where's my husband?"

"That's what I'm here to be telling ya, Brenda. There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery..."

"Oh, God no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me.."

"I must, Brenda. Your husband, Shamus, is dead and gone. I'm sorry."

Finally, she looked up at Tim. "How did it happen, Tim?"

"It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout and drowned."

"Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?"

"Well, no Brenda... no. Fact is, he got out three times to pee."