Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over
by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and
bruised and he's walking with a limp.
"What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.
"Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.
"That little s___, O'Connor," says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he
must have had something in his hand."
"That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin'
he gave me with it."
"Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have
something in your hand?"
"That I did," said Paddy... "Mrs.. O'Connor's breast, and a thing of beauty
it was, but useless in a fight."