20 January 2004
So this Irishman Shayne, had been drinking at his local pub all day and
most of the night.
Mick, the bartender says, "You'll not be drinking anymore tonight, Shane".
Shane replies "OK Mick, I'll be on my way then." Shayne gets up from his
chair and steps forward. He falls flat on his face.
"Shite" he says and pulls himself up by a stool and dusts himself off. He
takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face. He looks to the
doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just get to the door and get
some fresh air he'll be fine. He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up
the doorframe. He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of
fresh air, feels much better and takes a step out onto the sidewalk. He
falls flat on his face.
"I'm fockin' focked," he says. He can see his house just a few doors
down, and crawls to the door, shimmies up the doorframe, opens the door
and shimmies inside. He takes a look up the stairs and says "No fockin' way."
He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says "I can make it to
the bed." He takes a step into the room and falls flat on his face. He
crawls forward, drags himself up by the sheets finally says "Fock it" and falls into bed.
The next morning, his wife, Mary, comes into the room carrying a cup of
coffee and says, "Get up Shayne. Did you have a bit to drink last night?".
Shane says, "I did Mary. I was fockin' pissed. But how'd you know?"
"Mick called, you left your wheelchair at the pub"!
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