pogue mahone ya daft wee

Paddy had been drinking at his local, all day long and most of the night, celebrating Saint Patrick's Day.

Mick the bartender finally tells him, "You'll not be drinking anymore tonight, Paddy. Off you go!"

Paddy lifts his head from the bar and replies, "Alright, Mick. I'll be on me way then."

Paddy spins around on his stool and then falls flat on his face followed by a huge groan.

"Shoite!", he says disgustedly.

Paddy struggles to pull himself up on the stool and dusts himself off. He bids g'night to Mick and takes a step towards the door before falling flat on his face a second time.

"Shoite!", he says cursing himself.

He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself, 'If I can just get to the door and inhale some fresh air, I'll be fine'.

So Paddy crawls on his belly to the door and shimmy's up the doorframe. He sticks his head outside, lights up a Dunhill and takes a deep breath of fresh air.

Feeling much better, Paddy takes a bold step out onto the sidewalk and falls flat on his face a third time.

"Bi'Jesus almighty... I'm right fockin' focked!", he says to no one in particular. "I can't go on."

All looks lost for a minute or two.

But Paddy can see his own house just a few doors down, so he crawls down the street to his front door, hauls his soiled self up the doorframe, pushes open the door and shimmy's inside.

He takes a long look up the steep stairs and screams, "No fockin' way! L'ard Jesus, gimme a fockin' break!"

Slowly he screws up his courage and mutters, "I'll go on".

Paddy manages to crawl up the stairs to his bedroom door and says, "I think I can make it to the bed." He takes a final step into the room and falls flat on his face.

"Aw, fock me", he says before dragging himself onto the bed and falling fast asleep.

The next morning, his wife Jess comes into the room carrying a cup of black coffee and says, "Get up, Paddy, you ole bag o' dirt. Did you have a wee bit too much to drink last night or wot?"

Paddy says, "Jeez I did, Jess, I truly did. I was fockin' pished. How'd ja know?"

"Mick called. Says you left your wheelchair at the pub, ya daft wee cunt ya."