Into a Belfast pub comes Раddy 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’Connor and me had a fight,” says Раddy.
That little sоd, O’Connor,” says Sean, “He couldn’t do that to you, he must have had something in his hand.”
“That he did,” says Раddy, “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 Раddy. “Mrs. O’Connor’s вrеаsт, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight.”
John Bradford, a Dublin University student, was on the side of the road hitchhiking on a very dark night and in the midst of a big storm.
The night was rolling on and no car went by. The storm was so strong he could hardly see a few feet ahead of him. Suddenly, he saw a car slowly coming towards him and stopped. John, desperate for shelter and without thinking about it, got into the car and closed the door.. only to realise there was nobody behind the wheel and the engine wasn’t on!!
The car started moving slowly. John looked at the road ahead and saw a curve approaching. Scared, he started to pray, begging for his life. Then, just before the car hit the curve, a hand appeared through the window and turned the wheel.
John, paralysed with terror, watched as the hand repeatedly came through the window, but never touched or harmed him.
Shortly thereafter John saw the lights of a pub appear down the road so, gathering strength, he jumped out of the car and ran to it. Wet and out of breath, he rushed inside and started telling everybody about the horrible experience he had just had.
A silence enveloped the pub when everybody realised he was crying and…. Wasn’t drunк.
Suddenly, the door opened, and two other people walked in from the stormy night. They, like John, were also soaked and out of breath.
Looking around, and seeing John Bradford sobbing at the bar, one said to the other…
“Look Раddy….. There’s that fuскing idiот that got in the car while we were pushing it!!!!”
At last, confirmation of ‘Murphy’s Law’ with a wonderful Irish explanation….
Murphy drops some buttered toast on the kitchen floor and it lands butter-side-up. He looks down in astonishment, for he knows it’s a law of the universe that buttered toast always falls butter-down. So he rushes round to the presbytery to fetch Father Flanagan.
He tells the priest that a miracle has occurred in his kitchen. He won’t say what it is, but asks Fr. Flanagan to come and see it with his own eyes.
He leads Fr. Flanagan into the kitchen and asks him what he sees on the floor.”Well,” says the priest, “it’s pretty obvious. Someone has dropped some buttered toast on the floor and then, for some reason, they flipped it over so that the butter was on top.”
“No, Father, I dropped it and it landed like that!” exclaimed Murphy.”Oh my Lord,” says Fr. Flanagan, “Dropped toast never falls with the butter side up. It’s a mir…. Wait… it’s not for me to say it’s a miracle. I’ll have to report this matter to the Bishop and he’ll have to deal with it. He’ll send some people round; to interview you, take photos, etc.”
A thorough investigation is conducted, not only by the archdiocese but by scientists sent over from the Curia in Rome. No expense is spared. There is great excitement in the town as everyone knows that a miracle will bring in much needed tourism revenue.
Then, after 8 long weeks and with great fanfare, the Bishop announces the final ruling.
“It is certain that some kind of an extraordinary event took place in Murphy’s kitchen, quite outside the natural laws of the universe. Yet the Holy See must be very cautious before ruling a miracle. All other explanations must be ruled out.
“Unfortunately, in this case, it has been declared ‘No Miracle’ because they think Murphy may have buttered the toast on the wrong side!”
Mrs. Donovan was walking down O’Connell Street in Dublin, when she met up with Father Flaherty.
The Father said, ‘Top o’ the mornin’ to ye! Aren’t ye Mrs. Donovan and didn’t I marry ye and yer hoosband two years ago?’
She replied, ‘Aye….. that ye did, Father.’
The Father asked, ‘And be there any wee little ones yet?’
She replied, ‘No…. not yet, Father.’
The Father said, ‘Well now, I’m going to Rome next week and I’ll light a fertility candle for ye and yer hoosband.’
She replied, ‘Oh thank ye, Father!’
They then parted ways…..
Some years later, they met again. The Father asked, ‘Well now, Mrs. Donovan, how are ye these days?’
She replied, ‘Oh, very well, Father!’
The Father asked, ‘And tell me, have ye any wee ones yet?’
She replied, ‘Oh yes, Father! Two sets of twins and six singles, 10 in all!’
The Father said, ‘That’s wonderful! And how is yer loving hoosband doing?’
She replied, ‘E’s gone to Rome to вlоw out yer fookin’ candle.’