woensdag 6 juni 2012


The Irish prostitute



An Irish daughter had not been home for over five years. Upon her return, her father cursed her.

Where have you been all this time? Why didn't ye not write us, not even a line? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old mother through?”

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

Ye what!!? Out of here, ye shameless harlot! Sinner! You're a disgrace to this Catholic family.”

OK. Dad, if you wish … I just came back to give mum this luxurious fur coat, title deed to a ten bedroom mansion plus a 5 millions savings certificate. For me little brother, this gold Rolex. And for you Daddy, this sparkling new Mercedes limited edition convertible that's parked coutside plus a membership to the countryclub … (takes a breath) … and an invitation for ye all to spend New Yearsd Eve on board my new yacht on the Riviera and ...”

Now wat was it ye said ye had become?”

Girl, crying again, “Sniff, sniff … a prostitute Daddy!”

Oh! Be Jesus! Ye scared me half to death girl! I thought ye said a Protestant … Come here and give yer old Dad a hug.”

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