An American tourist was really frustrated, getting his rental car stuck in a muddy hole while driving down a country lane. Luckily for him, farmer Murphy was passing in his tractor and for 50 Euro he pulled the tourist's car out of the mud so he could continue his travel. Afterwards, the tourist commented, “At this price, you could make a good living pulling people out of that muddy hole.” “It’s not so bad,” farmer Murphy replied, “but every night I have to haul water to fill the hole.”
Molly from Ireland was on a grand adventure, driving through a remote Indian reservation in Arizona when her rental car broke down. An Indian on horseback came along and offered her a ride to a nearby town. She climbed up behind him and they rode off. The ride was uneventful, except that every few miles the Indian would let out a “Ye-e-e-e-h-a-a-a-a” so loud that it echoed from the surrounding hills. When they arrived at the closest little town, he let her off at the service station, yelled one final “Ye-e-e-e-h-a-a-a-a!” and rode off. “What did you do to get him so excited?” asked the service-station attendant. In her thick Irish accent, Molly responded defensively, “I just sat behind him on the horse, put my arms around his waist, and held onto the saddle horn so I wouldn't fall off.” “Lady,” the attendant replied, “Indians don't use saddles.”
A group of British tourists were touring Ireland, one of the locations being Blarney Castle, the site of the famous Blarney Stone. One of the women in the group was a real curmudgeon, she was constantly complaining. Nothing was ever right for her. The bus seats are uncomfortable. The food is terrible. It’s too hot. It’s too cold. The accommodations are awful. She was driving the others in the group mad, not to mention their Irish tour guide. The group arrived at the site of the famous Blarney Stone. “Good luck will be followin’ ya all your days if you kiss the Blarney Stone,” the guide said. “Unfortunately, it’s being cleaned today and so no one will be able to kiss it. Perhaps we can come back tomorrow.” “We can’t be here tomorrow,” the nasty woman lamented. “We have some other boring tour to go on. So, I guess we can’t kiss the stupid stone.” “Well now,” the guide replied, “it is said that if you kiss someone who has kissed the stone, you’ll have the same good fortune.” “And I suppose you’ve kissed the stone,” the woman scoffed. “No, ma’am,” the frustrated guide said. “But I’ve sat on it.”
A tourist was on a walking holiday in Ireland. While he was walking through the wonderful Irish countryside one crisp fall day, he became rather thirsty, so he decided to stop at a little cottage and ask for something to drink. The lady of the house invited him in, gave him a drink of water, and then, as it was somewhat chilly outside, she served him a bowl of soup by the fire. While he was eating the soup, the man noticed that there was a wee pig running around the kitchen. He kept running up to the visitor and giving him a great deal of attention. The man commented that he had never seen a pig this friendly before. The lady of the house replied, “Ah sure, he’s not that friendly at all. That’s his bowl you’re using.”
Casey, the guide on an Irish tour bus was showing visitors the historical places of the area as they drove through the country. "Here in Ballynanossilmore, we beat the British in 1641." Further in the tour, "The Irish trashed the brutal and bloody Saxon here in 1723." A little further, "On this spot, one hundred and twenty years ago, we knocked the unholy lard out of the British Redcoats in spite of all their treachery." An English tourist grew understandably annoyed and said, "Look here, surely the British must have beaten the Irish some place or another?" Casey replied, "Not on my bus, they didn’t."
Paddy met his wife in a travel agency. She was looking for a holiday and he was the last resort.
While visiting Ireland a Texas rancher meets a local farmer in a pub and brags, "Takes me a whole day to drive from one side of my ranch to the other." The farmer replies, "Ah sure, I know, sir. We have tractors like that over here too."
An American tourist walks into an Irish pub and says, "I'll give anyone $100 if they can drink 10 Guinness's in 10 minutes." Most people just ignore the absurd bet and go back to their conversations. One guy even leaves the bar. A little while later that guy comes back and asks the American "Is that bet still on?" "Sure." So the bartender lines 10 Guinness's up on the bar the Irishman drinks them all in less than 10 minutes. As the American hands over the money he asks, "Where did you go when you left the pub?" The Irishman answers, "I went next door to the other pub to see if I could do it."
The American tourist was walking around the Catholic cathedral admiring the architecture. "Are you enjoying your visit to Ireland?" asked a young priest. "Very much, Father, but I can't get on with the Irish whiskey it's far too strong for me," said the Yank. "Why so?' asked the priest. "Well, I got drunk on it on Saturday night and crashed out unconscious. Sunday morning I woke at 5 a.m. bright as a button. I went to 6 o'clock mass, 7 o'clock mass, 8 o'clock, nine, ten and eleven o'clock mass. Then I went to afternoon Rosary, sermon, Stations of the Cross and Benediction!" "So what's wrong with that?" asked the priest. "I'm Jewish!" said the tourist.
An American tourist in Dublin decided to skip his tour group and explore the city on his own. He wandered around, seeing the sights, and occasionally stopping at a quaint pub to soak up the local culture, chat with the lads, and have a pint of Guinness. After awhile, he found himself in a very high class neighborhood.....big, stately Georgian residences... no pubs, no stores, no restaurants, and worst of all... NO PUBLIC RESTROOMS. After all those pints he really, really had to go. Soon he found a narrow side street, with high walls surrounding the adjacent buildings and decided to use the wall to solve his problem. As he was unzipping, he was tapped on the shoulder by Police Officer Murphy, who said, "What might you be doing?" "I'm very sorry, officer," replied the American, "but I really, really HAVE TO GO, and I just can't find a public restroom." "Right," said Officer Murphy, " follow me". He led him to a back "delivery alley", then along a wall to a gate, which he opened. "In there," pointed the officer. "Whiz away sir, anywhere you want." The American entered and found himself in the most beautiful garden he had ever seen. Manicured grass lawns, statuary, fountains, sculptured hedges, and huge beds of gorgeous flowers, all in perfect bloom. Since he had the cop's blessing, he unburdened himself and was greatly relieved. As he went back through the gate, he said to the officer, "That was really decent of you...is that what you call "Irish Hospitality?" "No sir," replied Officer Murphy, "that is what we call the English Embassy".
Casey, the guide on an Irish tour bus was showing visitors the historical places of the area as they drove through the country. "Here in Ballynanossilmore, we beat the British in 1641." Further in the tour, "The Irish trashed the brutal and bloody Saxon here in 1723." A little further, "On this spot, one hundred and twenty years ago, we knocked the unholy lard out of the British Redcoats in spite of all their treachery." An English tourist grew understandably annoyed and said, "Look here, surely the British must have beaten the Irish some place or other?" Casey replied, "Not on my bus, they didn’t."
Two English businessmen in London were sitting down for a break in their soon-to-be new store. As yet, the store wasn't ready, with only a few shelves and fixtures set up. One said to the other, "I bet any minute now some dumb tourist is going to walk by, put his face to the window, and ask what we're selling." No sooner were the words out of his mouth when, sure enough, a curious Irishman walked to the window, had a peek, and in a thick Irish accent asked "What might ye be sellin' here?" One of the Englishmen replied sarcastically, "We're selling idiots." Without skipping a beat, the Irishman said, "Well you're doing well then, aren’t you...only two left!"
"How long will it take me to walk into the village from here?" inquired the English tourist. "No idea," replied the Kerry farmer. Off trudged the Englishman muttering to himself. "Come back, sor," called the Kerryman. "What now?" asked the tourist. "It'll take you about ten minutes." "Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?" asked the Englishman. "Sure, I didn't know how fast you walked!" smiled the farmer.