A guy rushes into a bar, orders four expensive thirty-year- old single malts and has the bartender line them up in front of him. Then, without pausing, he downs each one. "Whew," the bartender remarks, "you seem to be in a hurry." "You would be, too, if you had what I have." "What do you have?" the bartender sympathetically asks.
An Irishman's been drinking at a pub all night. The bartender finally says that the bar is closing. So the Irishman stands up to leave and falls flat on his face. He tries to stand one more time, same result. He figures he'll crawl outside and get some fresh air and maybe that will sober him up.
Once outside he stands up and falls flat on his face. So he decides to crawl the 4 miles home and when he arrives at the door he stands up and falls flat on his face. He crawls
A drunk, after having had one too many, called up the bartender and asked him the distance between Dalhousie Square and Ballygunge in Calcutta. The bartender in all honesty answered, "Why Sir, it is 15 kilometers." The drunk then asked him the distance between Ballygunge and Dalhousie Square, which again the bartender answered as 15 kilometers. Whereupon the drunk accused the bartender of being heavy on the booze, asking how his answers could be correct as Monday to Friday and Friday to Monday could not be the same distance.
The bartender asks the guy sitting at the bar, "What'll you have?"
The guy answers, "A scotch, please."
The bartender hands him the drink, and says, "That'll be five dollars."
The guy replies, "What are you talking about? I don't owe you anything for this."
A lawyer, sitting nearby and overhearing the conversation, then says to the bartender, "You know, he's got you there. In the original offer, which constitutes a binding contract upon
"My god! What happened to you?" the bartender asked Richards as he hobbled in on a crutch, one arm in a cast. "I got in a tiff with Martin." "Martin? He's just a wee fellow," the barkeep said, surprised. "He must have had something in his hand." "That he did," Richards said. "A shovel it was." "Dear Lord. Didn't you have anything in your hand?" "Aye, that I did-- Mrs. Martin's tit." Richards said. "And a beautiful thing it was, but not much use in a fight."