Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy 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 Paddy.

“That little squirt O’Conner?” says Sean, “He couldn’t do that to you, he must have had something in his hand.”

“That he did,” says Paddy, “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 Paddy.

“Mrs. O’Conner’s breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight.”

Just got this via email :)

THE HALF -WIT

A man owned a small farm in the south west of Qld.

The Department of Employment and Workplace Protection heard that he was not paying proper wages to his employees and sent an agent down to interview him.

‘I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them,’ demanded the agent.

‘Well,’ replied the farmer, ‘there’s my farm hand who’s been with me for 3 years. I pay him $400 a week plus free room and board. The cook has been here for 18 months, and I pay her $450 per week plus free room and board. Then there’s the halfwit who works about 18 hours a day and does about 90% of all the work around here. He makes about $10 per week, pays his own room and board, and I buy him a bottle of bourbon every Saturday night. He also sleeps with my wife occasionally.’

‘That’s the guy I want to talk to —- the halfwit,’ says the agent.

‘That would be me,’ replied the farmer.