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, "No more black stuff t'night, Paddy! Tis enough for you, aye!" Paddy replies "Okay Mick, I'll be on my way then."
Paddy spins around on his stool, steps off, BLAM!, falls flat on His face.
"Ahhhh, bloody hell" he mutters, pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself off.
He takes a step towards the door ... BLAM! falls flat on his face again!
"buttere!" he yells, looking around confused.
He looks to the doorway and thinks, "If'n I ken jes' git to th' door an' some fresh air, I'll be fine", and so he belly crawls to the door, shimmies up the door frame, sticks his head outside, and takes a deep breath of fresh air. Feeling much better, Paddy risks a step out onto the sidewalk ... BLAM! ... falls flat on his face.
"Bi-Jesus! I'm fluthered," he chuckled to himself.
Spotting his house just a few doors down, he belly crawls to the door, shimmies up the door frame, opens the door, and shimmies inside. Paddy then takes a look up the stairs, wrings his goatee ... and sighs, "No way!" But he has try, and so he crawls up the stairs - one by one - to his bedroom door. "Whew," he says, "I c'make it to th' bed."
He takes a step into the room ... BLAM! ... falls flat on his face!
"BAH! FOCK IT," he bellows, goatee bristling with rage, and combat crawls the rest of way into the bed.
The next morning, his wife Jess comes into the room carrying breakfast, a cup of coffee, and the newspaper on an aluminum tray. "Get up Paddy," she says, putting the items down on a table, "Had a wee bit t'drink last night, didya?"
"Aye Jess," Paddy says rubbing his eyes, "Feckin' pissed, I was. But, how'd ya know?"
With the tray now empty, Jess hawls off and ... BLAM! ... right upside Paddy's noggin' ...
"MICK PHONED," Jess roared, shaking the tray at him, "YE LEFT YE WHEELY-CHAIR AT THE PUB, YA LAYGLESS FECKIN' EEJIT!!" >