poshglasgow
July 11th, 2018, 05:05
Into a Belfast pub comes Patrick 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 Patrick.
"That little sh*t, O'Conner?" says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand."
"That he did," says Patrick, "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 Patrick. "In my hand I had Mrs. O'Conner's left breast, a thing of great beauty, but totally fucking useless in a fight!"
"What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.
"Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Patrick.
"That little sh*t, O'Conner?" says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand."
"That he did," says Patrick, "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 Patrick. "In my hand I had Mrs. O'Conner's left breast, a thing of great beauty, but totally fucking useless in a fight!"