Irish business men have their names printed on the front and back of their business card in case someone looses them.

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Irishman finds a Genie lamp and rubs it. Out comes the Genie and asks "Master you have released me from the lamp and I grant you three wishes, what would you like" Irishman scratches his head, then answers "A bottle of Guinness that never gets empty.

"Granted master" retorted the Genie and produced the bottle.

The man was delighted and got drunk on this one magic Guiness bottle for weeks then he remembered that he had two other wishes. He rubbed the lamp again and the Genie
appeared.

"Yes master, you have two more wishes, what would you like?"

"You know that magic, never ending Guinness bottle" he asks the Genies. "Well, for my final two wishes, I'd like another two of them"

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"Paddy," asked the barmaid, "what are those two bulges in the front of your trousers?"

"Ah," said Paddy. "They're hand grenades. Next time O'Flaherty comes grabbing my balls, I'll blow his bloody fingers off!"

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Two Irishmen met in a pub and discussed the illness of a third.

"Poor Micheal Hogan! Faith, I'm afraid he's goin' to die."

"Shure, an' why would he be dyin'?" asked the other.

"Ah, he's gotten so thin. You're thin enough, and I'm thin -- but by my soul, Micheal Hogan is thinner than both of us put together."

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A cop pulls up two Irish drunks, and says to the first, "What's your name and address?"

"I'm Paddy O'Day, of no fixed address."

The cop turns to the second drunk, and asks the same question.

"I'm Seamus O'Toole, and I live in the flat above Paddy."

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What are the best ten years of an Irishman's life?
Third grade.

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Two Irishmen met and one said to the other, "Have ye seen Mulligan lately, Pat?"

Pat said, "Well, I have and I haven't."

His friend asked, "Shure, and what d'ye mean by that?"

Pat said, "It's like this, y'see...I saw a chap who I thought was Mulligan, and he saw a chap that he thought was me. And when we got up to one another...it was neither of us."

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The first Irish National Steeplechase was finally abandoned. Not one horse could get a descent footing on the cathedral roof.

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Paddy and Mick were approaching a pub which had been destroyed by an IRA bomb only minutes before. As they passed, a head rolled out of the smoldering ruins and across the pavement before them. Paddy stooped, picked it up and held it for Mick to see.

"Shure now Mick, isn't this Sean Murphy?"

"No, Paddy, no, it couldn't be. It's an amazin' resemblance, but Murphy was shorter than that."

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Tim Kelly was walking therough a dim passageway when someone spoke to him.

"Good evenin', Kelly," said the muffled figure. "Don't ye be knowin' your old friend Grogan any more?"

Kelly stared at Grogan, whose face was a patchwork of bandages and adhesive plaster. One arm was in a sling and he was leaning on a crutch.

"Saints!" cried Kelly. "Was ye hit by a train, Grogan, or did ye merely jump from the trestle?"

"It could've been both," said Grogan, "considerin' the feel of it. But the truth is, I was in bed with Murphy's wife when Murphy himself comes in with a big shillelagh in his hand, and the inconsiderate creature beat the livin' bejazus outa me."

"He did indade," said Kelly. "But couldn't ye defend y'rself, Grogan? Hadn't ye nothin' in your own hand?"

"Only Mrs. Murphy's ass," said Grogan. "It's a beautiful thing in itself, but not worth a damn in a fight."