Into the local 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 ****, 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 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 ****, 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."