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The Irish Daughter January 22, 2005

Posted by gregquill in Uncategorized.

An Irish daughter had not been to the house for over 5 years. Upon her return, her father cussed her; “Where have you been all this time, you ingrate! Why didn’t you write us, not even a line to let us know how you were doing? Why didn’t you call? Don’t you know what you put your Mum through??!!”

The girl, crying, replied, “Sniff, sniff… Da… I became a prostitute…”

“WHAT!!? Out of here, you shameless harlot! Sinner! You’re a disgrace to this family – I don’t ever want to see you again!”

“OK, Da – as you wish. I just came back to give Mum this luxury fur coat, title deeds to a ten bed-roomed mansion, plus a savings account for €5 million. For my little brother, this gold Rolex, and for you Daddy the spanking new Mercedes limited edition convertible that’s parked outside plus a lifetime membership to the Country Club… (takes a sobbing breath)…an invitation for you all to spend New Years’ Eve on board my new yacht in the Riviera, and….”

“Wait” says himself. “What was it you said you had become?”

Girl, crying again, “Sniff, sniff… A prostitute, Da! .. Sniff, sniff”

“Oh! Begorrah! – you scared me half to death, girl! I thought you said ‘a Protestant’. Come here and give your old man a hug!”




1. Mellie Helen - January 30, 2005

When I first moved out from my home, I lived with an Irish Catholic family. In the mornings, I would make tea for the family, and the father of the house would often bark at me that I had made “Protestant” tea again. Finally I asked him what he meant by that. He replied, “You don’t make it Catholic!” Further pressing him to define what he meant by “Catholic”, he emphatically responded, “STRONNGG! Not weak like a Protestant!”

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