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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 shit, 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.'
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 shit, 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.'