It is four years since this post hit the airwaves and as I was doing some file tidying and came across it, I thought you might enjoy…
The Irish View on Life, Bars, Accents and Heaven and Hell
I have to mention that my husband is Irish and his father was one of the finest raconteurs of jokes and stories, Irish or otherwise. My own mother’s family originated from County Cork.. in Ireland, Cork men have been the butt of many a joke as have those poor souls from Kerry. The Irish have a long and revered history but they have also endured dark times. And I have little doubt that it is their wonderful sense of humour and their ability to take the mick out of themselves that make them so universally liked.
I remember coming out of the Shelbourne Hotel in St.Stephen’s Green in Dublin shortly after our return to live twenty years ago. An upmarket establishment to say the least and I followed on the heels of two very well dressed, be-hatted ladies of mature years. I stood behind them as we waited for traffic lights to change so that we could cross the road and one said to the other. “Would you look at that feckin’ traffic!”
It took me a while to get used to hearing the use of this word in everyday language but whilst in some cases it is a less offensive version of its four letter cousin, it in fact started life as a meaning ‘to steal’ or ‘to throw’ something.
Hollywood has over the years employed lead actors who have attempted to master the Irish accent.. Like their attempts to add toner to their faces and bodies to impersonate Native American Indians, Leading Indian politicians and other races, it is not always successful.. In this video a master class in the different Irish accents with a note to stars such as Tom Cruise (Titanic) and others that they could save themselves some embarrassment and employ one of our many fine home grown actors.
Now that you have that under your belt you will be wanting a drink… something else that the Irish are very good at.. You will note the the Irish have quietly and without causing offence, invaded every country virtually in the world. And I hear recently even at the airport at the ends of the earth at Lukla the gateway to the Himalayas. The Irish Pub Namche-Bazar
Too much of the good stuff.
One night, Mrs McMillen answers the door to see her husband’s best friend, Paddy, standing on the doorstep.
“Hello Paddy, but where is my husband? He went with you to the beer factory”
Paddy shook his head. “Ah Mrs McMillen, there was a terrible accident at the beer factory, your husband fell into a vat of Guinness stout and drowned”
Mrs McMillen starts crying. “Oh don’t tell me that, did he at least go quickly?”
Paddy shakes his head. “Not really – he got out 3 times to pee!”
Oil be there!
Decades ago, there was a huge fire in one of the oil fields in Texas. The boss of the field contacted Red Adair, but was told that he couldn’t do anything as he was booked up for weeks. But Red Adair gave the Boss the telephone number of his cousin, Green Adair, in Ireland. So the Boss phoned Green Adair, who said he and his team would be over on the next available boat.
A few days later Green Adair and his team drove their transit van off the boat and travelled without stopping to Texas. Arriving at the oilfield, the boss tells him that the best place to see the fire was up on top of a nearby ridge. So Green and his men pile back into the Transit and drive up to the edge of the ridge.
After a few minutes, the Transit slowly moves off the top of the hill, gathers tremendous speed, and plummets right into the centre of the fire. Green Adair and his men jump out, and start stamping on the fire and blowing at it furiously. After a couple of hours, the fire is out.
The Boss is delighted and goes to see Green Adair and his men. “That’s the most amazing thing I’ve seen in my life! Incredible!!!” says the Boss. He willingly and delightedly gives them a cheque for $5 million, and asks Green Adair what’s the first thing he’ll do with the money. “Get the feckin’ brakes fixed!!!” came the reply…
Irish War Games
‘Hallo, Mr. Sarkozy!’ a heavily accented voice said. ‘This is Paddy down at the Harp Pub in County Clare, Ireland .. I am ringing to inform you that we are officially declaring war on you! We voted to reject the Lisbon treaty!’
‘Well, Paddy,’ Sarkozy replied, ‘This is indeed important news! How big is your army?’
‘Right now,’ says Paddy, after a moment’s calculation, ‘there is myself, me Cousin Sean, me next door neighbour Seamus, and the entire darts team from the pub. That makes eleven!’
Sarkozy paused. ‘I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 100,000 men in my army waiting to move on my command.’
‘Begoora!’ says Paddy. ‘I’ll have to ring you back.’
Sure enough, the next day, Paddy calls again. ‘Mr. Sarkozy, the war is still on. We have managed to get us some infantry equipment!’ ‘And what equipment would that be Paddy?’ Sarkozy asks.
‘Well, we have two combines, a bulldozer, and Murphy’s farm tractor.’
Sarkozy sighs amused. ‘I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 6,000 tanks and 5,000 armoured personnel carriers. Also, I have increased my army to 150,000 since we last spoke.’
‘Saints preserve us!’ says Paddy. ‘I’ll have to get back to you.’
Sure enough, Paddy rings again the next day. ‘Mr. Sarkozy, the war is still on! We have managed to get ourselves airborne! We have modified Jackie McLaughlin’s ultra-light with a couple of shotguns in the cockpit, and four boys from the Shamrock Bar have joined us as well!’
Sarkozy was silent for a minute and then cleared his throat. ‘I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 100 bombers and 200 fighter planes. My military bases are surrounded by laser-guided, surface-to-air missile sites. And since we last spoke, I have increased my army to 200,000!’
‘Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!’ says Paddy, ‘I will have to ring you back.’
Sure enough, Paddy calls again the next day. ‘Top o’ the mornin’, Mr. Sarkozy! I am sorry to inform you that we have had to call off the war.’
‘Really? I am sorry to hear that,’ says Sarkozy. ‘Why the sudden change of heart?’
‘Well,’ says Paddy, ‘we had a long chat over a few pints of Guinness and packets of crisps, and we decided there is no feckin’ way we can feed 200,000 prisoners.
Heaven or Hell.
In Ireland there is a little tradition that takes place two weeks before you die. In the night the angel of death visits you and takes you on a journey.
Michael had just fallen asleep when the angel arrived and swept him off in his arms. The first stop was heaven and he set Michael down on his feet on a cloud.
“Now Michael, when you die you have a choice to come to heaven or go to hell. I am going to show you the options. Here in heaven you will be allocated your own cloud, a harp and a white toga that it is your responsibility to wash when the cloud rains once a week.
Michael looked less than impressed and after a brief look around the angel swept him back up again and plummeted downwards.
They entered through a large ornate iron gate and the angel dropped Michael to the floor where he stood looking around him in amazement. There was a swimming pool with bikini clad beautiful women, a bar serving pints of Guinness and shots of whisky, there was a hot tub and he could hear some great music coming from the beach where the smell of cooking sausages wafted across to him.
The angel looked at him and asked if he had made up his mind where he wanted to go.
Michael had no hesitation in telling him he wanted to go to hell.
The angel returned Michael to his bed and left him to wake up in the morning without any recollection of the night’s travels.
Sure enough two weeks later, Michael passed away and in a flash found himself back at the gates of hell. His memory of his recent trip fully restored, he rang the bell, and was ushered in and straight through a door marked ‘Reception and Induction’
To his horror he found himself knee high in cow dung and there were thousands of other people all shovelling the muck into carts pulled by other men and women, harnessed and being whipped.
He turned back to the door to see a guard with his arms crossed keeping an eye on the proceedings. Now Michael had been known in life as a man who was not going to take any nonsense from anybody and he stormed over to the guard and demanded to see the head man.
He berated the guard for some time and eventually the door opened and the devil himself appeared.
Michael explained that he had been shown around by the angel and where was the pool; the bikini clad beautiful women and the bar? He had not signed up for dung shovelling.
The devil smiled benignly at the man and turned on his heel. Over his shoulder he uttered the oft heard words on earth.
“That was marketing, now you are a customer!”
And to finish off.. a video that never fails to make me crack up..
Thanks for dropping in today and as the old Irish toast to life goes…..
May your glass be ever full.
May the roof over your head be always strong.
And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead.