Some stories are better when they are told in bunches. That said, here are a bunch of Irish drinking stories:
Ol’ Muldoon lived alone in the Irish countryside with but a pet dog named Seamus for company. One day poor Seamus up and died, so Muldoon went to see the parish priest.
Muldoon said to Father O‘Hara, “Father, me dog, Seamus, is dead. Could ya’ be sayin’ a mass for the poor creature?”
Father O’Hara replied, “Oh, I’m afraid not, Muldoon. Canon law says we cannot have services for an animal in the church. But there are some Baptists down the lane, and there’s no tellin’ what they believe. Maybe they’ll do something for the poor beast.”
Muldoon said, “Thank you, Father. I will go see the Baptists right away. Do ya’ think $1,000 is enough to donate to them for the service?”
Father O’Hara exclaimed, “Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Muldoon! Now, why didn’t ya tell me the dog was Catholic?”
Father O’Malley answers the phone.
The voice on the other end of the line asks, “Hello, is this Father O’Malley?”
“It is,” answers O’Malley.
“This is the IRS,” says the voice. “Can you help us?”
“Do you know a Patrick Houlihan?”
“Is he a member of your congregation?”
“Did he donate $10,000 to the church?”
Dermot McCann opened his morning newspaper and was dumbfounded to read about his own death in the obituary column. He quickly called his best friend, Sean O’Reilly.
“O’Reilly!“ said Dermot. “Did ye see the paper? They say that I died.”
“Yes, I saw it,” replied O’Reilly. Then, O’Reilly paused a bit, then softly asked, “Dermot. Where are ye callin’ from?”
More Irish Drinking Stories…