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What gets me is the problem people have with the ]rish.
Take my friends Billy English, Jock Mc Nair and my old friend Murphy. ( God rest his soul. ) They wandered into a little old pub in Kildare. They each asked the barman for a pint of Guinness. After the pints are placed onto the bar, three bluebottle flies dropped into each man’s freshly poured pint.
Billy English pushed his pint away in disgust and orders up another. Jock reached in and plucked the fly out.
Now, Murphy reached in, picked the fly out, held it up close to his face and shouts, “Spit it out you little bastard.
