Paddy had been drinking at his local Dublin pub all day and most of the night celebrating St Patricks Day. Mick, the bartender says, Youll not be drinking anymore tonight, Paddy.. Paddy replies, OK Mick, Ill be on my way then. Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off.. He falls flat on his face. Shoite he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself off. He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face, Shoite, Shoite ! He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just get to the door and some fresh air hell be fine. He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up to the door frame. He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air, feels much better and takes a step out onto the sidewalk and falls flat on his face. BiJesus.... Im fockin focked, he says. He can see his house just a few doors down, and crawls to the door, hauls himself up the door frame, opens the door and shimmies inside.. He takes a look up the stairs and says No fockin way. He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says I can make it to the bed. He takes a step into the room and falls flat on his face. He says Fock it and falls into bed. The next morning, his wife, Jess, comes into the room carrying a cup of coffee and says, Get up Paddy. Did you have a bit to drink last night ? Paddy says, I did, Jess. I was fockin pissed. But howd you know? Mick phoned .... . . You left your wheelchair at the pub. Like ·
Posted on: Tue, 16 Dec 2014 09:30:43 +0000
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