A man wakes up in the hospital, bandaged from head to foot.  The doctor 
comes in and says, "Well, I see you've regained consciousness.  Now, you 
probably won't remember, but you were in a pile-up on the freeway.  You're 
going to be okay, you'll walk again and everything, but something happened.
I'm trying to break this gently, but the fact is, your willy was chopped off in 
the wreck, and we were unable to find it."

The man groans, but the doctor goes on, "You've got $9,000 in insurance 
compensation coming, and we now have the technology to build you a new 
willy that will work as well as your old one did - better in fact!  But the thing 
is, it doesn't come cheap.  It's $1,000 an inch."  The man perks up at this.

"So," continues the doctor, "it's for you to decide how many inches you want.  
But it's something you'd better discuss with your wife.  I mean, if you had a five- 
inch one before, and you decide to go for a nine incher, she might be a bit put out.  
But if you had a nine-inch one before, and you decide only to invest in a five- 
incher this time, she might be disappointed.  So it's important that she plays a role in helping you make the decision."

The man agrees to talk with his wife...  The doctor comes back the next day.

"So," says the doctor, "have you spoken with your wife?"

"I have," says the man.

"And what is the decision?" asks the doctor.

"We're getting granite countertops."

_____________________________________________

Å så ett par typiska skämt om irländare:

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 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."   

  
    ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 
An Irishman who had a little too much to drink is driving home from the city one night and, of course, his car is weaving violently all over the road.    
A cop pulls him over. "So," says the cop to the driver, "where have ya been?"    
"Why, I've been to the pub of course," slurs the drunk.    
"Well," says the cop, "it looks like you've had quite a few to drink  this evening."    
"I did all right," the drunk says with a smile..    
"Did you know," says the cop, standing straight, and folding his arms across his chest, "that a few intersections back, your wife fell out of your car?"    
"Oh, thank heavens," sighs the drunk. "for a minute there, I thought I'd gone deaf."     

      * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *     
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, Brenda, no.  In fact, he got out three times to pee."

** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *     
 Mary Clancy goes up to Father O'Grady after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears.    
He says, "So what's bothering you, Mary my dear?"    
She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news..  My husband passed away last night."    
The priest says, "Oh, Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, Mary, did he have any last requests?"    
She says, "That he did, Father."
The priest says, "What did he ask, Mary?"

" She says, "He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun...'"