Yesterday, former model and newly married Thurles desperate housewife, Mrs Britney Ryan accompanied her rather peaky-looking husband, Tyler Ryan (Casey),to the local doctor’s office.
After the doctor had completed his check up, he asked Britney to remain in his office alone. Sitting her down, he informed her, “Your husband is suffering from a very severe stress disorder and if you don’t follow my instructions carefully and precisely, I am afraid your husband won’t see next Christmas”.
“What should I do then”, asked Britney
“To avoid this” continued the doctor “He needs building up. Each morning fix him up with perhaps a Raspberry and Apple or a Kale smoothie, followed by a healthy full Irish breakfast. Try to be pleasant and cheerful at all times, no matter what happens.”
“For lunch” said the doctor “May I suggest perhaps something like a Rainbow Chopped Salad tossed with a lemony herbed Greek yogurt dressing, or Curried spinach & lentil soup followed by Fresh Spring Rolls. Maybe some Green Pesto Minestrone, followed by a small portion of Tikka Masala, might be another nutritious idea.
“But most of all it is important that you make sure you do not burden him with chores or DIY projects around the house” warned the doctor, “And even more important still, don’t discuss your own personal problems with him.
“And then of course there is dinner in the evening and again if I might suggest you vary his menu. Medium fillet steak with pan fried onions and a thick creamy mushroom sauce, or perhaps a Chicken Satay Salad, or King Prawns with Harissa Spaghetti, another alternative could be Fresh Salmon with a Thai noodle salad“, the doctor continued.
If you follow these rules for the next 6 months, I think your husband will be on the road to full recovery very soon. Bring him back in a month and we can assess his progress”
On the way home Tyler asked Britney “Well, what did the doctor have to say to you about my condition”.
“The doctor has confirmed you’re going to die before the month is out” replied Britney.
Thurles resident, Paddy Alphonsus Murphy, called to the Department of Social Protection at Thurles, Co. Tipperary; his business to apply for his entitlement to a State Old Age Pension.
The lady behind the counter asked him for his driver’s license, explaining that she wished to verify his age. He began to search his pockets, before coming to the realization that he must have left his wallet in another jacket pocket.
Swearing under his breath, he apologised, informing the female welfare officer that he was very sorry, but he seemed to have left his wallet at his home. “Sure listen”, said Paddy, “I will have to go home and come back later in the afternoon.”
The woman said, “Sir, please unbutton your shirt.”
Thinking it was some sort of required medical examination, Paddy, somewhat confused, complied; opening his shirt to reveal a chest covered in curly silver hair.
“That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me”, said the lady officer, as she began to process his application.
When Paddy eventually gets home, he informs his wife Marge about the mornings happenings at the Thurles Social Welfare Office.
When he was finished extolling the virtues of the welfare officer, Marge remarked, “You should have dropped your trousers, she might have included Disability Benefit with your pension claim as well.”
Paddy Murphy, the local Thurles chicken farmer, entered the Arch Bar in Liberty Square, Thurles and taking a seat at the counter, he called for a brandy and white lemonade.
It was the middle of the afternoon and the place was partially deserted except for a rather attractive 35 year old woman, socially distancing, 2 metres away, also seated at the counter.
The woman was first to break the silence by announcing “How about that? I just ordered a brandy and white lemonade too!”
Paddy turns to her and says, “What a coincidence. This is a special day for me, I’m celebrating.”
“This is a special day for me, too, and I’m also celebrating,” says the woman.
“What a coincidence,” said Paddy.
On being both served, they stretch out and clinked glasses and Paddy, now curious, asks, “What are you celebrating?”
“My husband and I” said the woman,” have been trying to have a baby for the last 5 years. Today, my gynaecologist in Kilkenny Hospital, informed me that I’m pregnant!”
“Now that is a real coincidence,” says Paddy. “I’m a chicken farmer. For years all my hens appeared to be infertile, but today they’re finally fertile.”
“That’s great,” says the woman. “How did your chickens become fertile?”
“I switched to a younger cock,” Paddy replied.
“Why if that isn’t yet another coincidence,” said the woman.
“With TDs, Lowry and Cahill, constantly leaking how government departments are going to spend our money; isn’t it a shame we don’t manufacture anything here in Thurles any more”, said Mikey Ryan.
He had followed me into John Lacey’s Butchers Shop, on Friar Street, Thurles; both of us having been sent out with the instruction not to return, if we had not acquired a nice piece of round roast for the Sunday dinner.
“You know” says he, “I just bought a TV in that new Lidl place on Slievenamon Road yesterday and it said on the label, “Built-in Antenna”. “Now”, he continued, “since you studied geography up in the Christian Brothers later than me, tell me, in the name of God, where I can find ‘Antenna’ on the world map?
Anxious to change the subject, I winked at John replying, “Probably China, where they make all those other smart TV’s and doggy computers”.
“Did you know”, said Mikey, “a priest told me once that the oldest known computer was owned by Adam and the wife Eve? It was the Apple brand, with very limited memory; just one byte, but when his wife switched it on within minutes the world feckin became involved in the couture business, sewing fig leaves together, to make topless bikini’s.
“I see a computer-like contraption in a wire cage, at the entrance to that new car-park on Slievenamon road”, said I, again trying to change Mikey’s idiotic conversation.
“You mean “Checkpoint Charlie”, said Mikey, “with those auto arm barriers aimed at the sky and not a height restrictor in sight”.
“I reckon it could be a Thurles symbol of a future ‘Cold War’ all right, if Tipperary County Council and those local Municipal District Councillors, fail to halt the destruction of our town centre”, said I.
“Why was the original German Checkpoint Charlie built anyway”, quizzed Mikey.
“Ah sure everone knows, for almost 30 years until 1989, didn’t it stop the East Germanbrain drain, all anxious to emigrate or defect westward, from East Berlin into West Berlin”, said I.
“Oh Right”, said Mikey, “I think I see what you’re saying; so this Thurles Checkpoint Charliecould be an attempt by Thurles Councillors and Thurles Chamber of Commerce to prevent smart shopkeepers and local consumers from defecting from Liberty Square, to benefit from the free parking available in the new town centre now at Lidl and Thurles Shopping Centre on Slievenamon Road”.
“I wouldn’t be at all feckin surprised”, said I , “to see our local Councillors out in that new ‘Checkpoint Charlie‘ car-park, letting the air out of car tyres, and blocking exhaust pipes with spuds, in what they would see as a positive effort to keep footfall on Liberty Square”.
“Listen, I’ve got to run”, said I, “Sure Pat Hayes, will have ‘The Arch Bar’ open again on Monday week July 26th next, please God, so with all our vaccine jabs got, no doubt we will run into each other very shortly again, for an auld chin-wag.
The little old Thurles widow woman approaches her parish Rector and shyly confesses to him, “Reverend Jones, I have a problem. As you known I live alone and I recently purchased two Rainbow lorikeet, talkingparrots; both female, to keep me company, but whenever I am hostess to visitors in my home, they regularly keep repeating an embarrasssing phrase. They each keep saying – Hi, I’m hot; do you want to fool around?”
“That is terrible!” says Rev. Jones. “But stop worrying, I have a solution to your problem. Bring your two female parrots over to my house tomorrow. I will put them with my two male African Grey, talking parrots. I’ve taught them to pray and read passages from holy scripture. My parrots will then teach your parrots to stop repeating suggestive filth, and they also will learn to pray and worship their great creator.”
Next day, the widow woman brings her two female Australian parrots to the local rectory.
There, in a large silver metal cage, sits the Rector’s two male African Grey parrots. One parrot is slowly turning the pages of a large King James edition of the Bible, while the other one sits with his eyes closed; reciting prayers taken from the Book of Common Prayer.
On the suggestion of the Rector, the widow puts both her female Rainbow lorikeet parrots in with the talking male parrots. The female parrots look at each other before, in unison, stating, “Hi, I’m hot. Do you want to fool around?”
One male parrot looks over at the other male parrot and screams, “Put that Bible away stupid, can’t you see our prayers have just been answered!”
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