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'Connor and me had a fight," says Paddy.
" That little shit, 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."