The Irish

An Irishman walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness, and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.

The bartender approaches and tells him, “You know, a pint goes flat soon after I draw it, so it would taste better if you bought one at a time.”

The Irishman replies, “Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other in Australia, and I’m in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days we drank together. So I drink one for each o’ me brothers and one for meself.”

The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it at that. The Irishman becomes a regular in the bar and always drinks the same way. He orders three pints and drinks them in turn. One day, he comes in and orders only two pints. All of the other regulars notice and fall silent.

When he comes back to the bar for a second round, the bartender says, “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I want to offer my condolences on your loss.”

The Irishman looks quite puzzled for a moment. Then a light dawns in his eye and he laughs. “Oh, no, everybody’s just fine,” he explains. “It’s just that me wife had us join that Mormon Church, and they don’t allow drinking, so I had to quit.” “Hasn’t affected me brothers though.”
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Author: harold