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Late one Friday night a policeman spotted a man driving very
erratically through the streets of Dublin. He pulled the man
over and asked him if he had been drinking that evening. 'Aye,
so I have. 'Tis Friday, you know, so me and the lads stopped by
the pub where I had six or seven pints. And then there was
something called 'Happy Hour' and they served these mar-gar-itos
which are quite good. I had four or five o'those. Then I had to
drive me friend Mike home and O' course I had to go in for a couple
of Guiness - couldn't be rude, ye know. Then I stopped on the way
home to get another bottle for later.' And the man fumbled around
in his coat until he located his bottle of whiskey, which he held
up for inspection.
The officer sighed, and said, 'Sir, I'm afraid I'll need you to
step out of the car and take a breathalyzer test.'
Indignantly, the man said, 'Why? Don't ye believe me?!?'
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I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM, WE ALL SCREAM FOR MORPHINE
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