>>
>> >Paddy had been drinking at his local Dublin pub all day and most of
>> >the night celebrating St Patrick's Day.
>> >
>> >Mick, the bartender says, " You'll not be drinking anymore tonight
>>Paddy.
>> >Paddy replies, "OK Mick, I'll be on my way then."
>> >
>> >Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off. He falls flat on his
>>face.
>> >"Shoite" he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself
>>off.
>> >
>> >He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face, "Shoite,
>> >Shoite!"
>> >
>> >He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just
>> >get to the door and some fresh air he'll be fine.
>> >
>> >He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up to the door frame.
>> >He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air,
>> >feels much better and takes a step out onto the sidewalk and falls
>> >flat on his face.
>> >"Bi'Jesus... I'm fockin' focked," he says.
>> >
>> >He can see his house just a few doors down, and crawls to the door,
>> >hauls himself up the door frame, 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 says "Fock it" and falls into bed.
>> >
>> >The next morning, his wife, Jess, comes into the room carrying a
>> >cup of coffee and says, "Get up Paddy.
>> >Did you have a bit to drink last night?".
>> >
>> >Paddy says, "I did Jess. I was fockin' pissed.
>> >But how'd you know?"
>> >
>> >"Mick phoned, . . . You left your wheelchair at the pub."
>>