One night, a drunk comes stumbling into a bar and says to the bartender: “Drinks for all on me including you, bartender.” So the bartender follows the mans orders and says: “That will be $36.50 please.” The drunk says he has no money so the bartender slaps him around and throws him out.

The next night the same drunk comes in again and orders a drink for everyone in the bar including the bartender. Again the bartender follows instructions and again the drunk says he has no money. So the bartender slaps him around and throws him out.

On the third night he comes in, the drunk orders drinks for all except the bartender. “What, no drink for me?” replies the bartender. “Oh, no. You get violent when you drink.”

Irishman In Dublin

An Irishman walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more. The bartender asks him, “You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it; it would taste better if you bought one at a time.” The Irishman replies, “Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other in Australia, and I’m here in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days when we drank together.” The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.

The Irishman becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way: ordering three pints and drinking them in turn. One day, he comes in and orders two pints. All the other regulars notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your great loss.” The Irishman looks confused for a moment, then a light dawns in his eye and he laughs. “Oh, no,” he says, “Everyone’s fine. I’ve just quit drinking.”

How To Get Free Drinks In A Bar With Rat

A man walks into a bar and asks the bartender, “If I show you a really good trick, will you give me a free drink?” The bartender considers it, then agrees. The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny rat. He reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a tiny piano. The rat stretches, cracks his knuckles, and proceeds to play the blues.

After the man finished his drink, he asked the bartender, “If I show you an even better trick, will you give me free drinks for the rest of the evening?” The bartender agrees, thinking that no trick could possibly be better than the first. The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny rat. He reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a tiny piano. The rat stretches, cracks his knuckles, and proceeds to play the blues. The man reaches into another pocket and pulls out a small bullfrog, who begins to sing along with the rat’s music.

While the man is enjoying his beverages, a stranger confronts him and offers him $100,000.00 for the bullfrog. “Sorry,” the man replies, “he’s not for sale.” The stranger increases the offer to $250,000.00 cash up front. “No,” he insists, “he’s not for sale.” The stranger again increases the offer, this time to $500,000.00 cash. The man finally agrees, and turns the frog over to the stranger in exchange for the money.

“Are you insane?” the bartender demanded. “That frog could have been worth millions to you, and you let him go for a mere $500,000!” “Don’t worry about it.” the man answered. “The frog was really nothing special. You see, the rat’s a ventriloquist.”

In bed later that night, he told his wife: “Mary, I won the prize for the best toast of the night.” She said, “Aye, Paddy, what was your toast?”

So he told her: “Here’s to spending the rest of me life sitting in church beside me wife.”

“Oh,” she said, “that is very nice, dear.”

The next day, Mary ran into one of Paddy’s drinking partners in the street. Mischievously, the man said: “Did you hear about your husband winning a prize in the pub the other night for a toast about you, Mary?”

She replied: “Aye – and I was a bit surprised. Till now, he’s only been down there twice. Once he fell asleep, and the other time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come”.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really sorry. I keep doing that to bartenders. I can’t tell you how embarrassing it is to have a compulsion like this.”

Far from being angry, the bartender was sympathetic. Before long, he was suggesting that the man see an analyst about his problem.

“I happen to have the name of a Psychoanalyst,” the bartender said. “My brother and my wife have both been treated by him, and they say he’s as good as they get.”

The man wrote down the name of the Doctor, thanked the bartender, and left. The bartender smiled, knowing he’d done a good deed for a fellow human being.

Six months later, the man was back. “Did you do what I suggested?” the bartender asked, serving the glass of white wine.

“I certainly did,” the man said. “I’ve been seeing the Psychoanalyst twice a week.” He took a sip of the wine. Then he threw the remainder into the bartender’s face.

The flustered bartender wiped his face with a towel. “The Doctor doesn’t seem to be doing you any good.” He sputtered.

“On the contrary,” the man claimed, “he’s done me world of good.”

“But you threw the wine in my face again!” The bartender exclaimed.

“Yes,” the man replied. “But it doesn’t embarrass me anymore.”

Soon, a big trouble-making truck driver steps next to him, takes the drink from the guy, and just drinks it all down.

The poor man starts crying. The truck driver says, “Come on man, I was just joking. Here, I’ll buy you another drink. I just can’t stand seeing a man crying.”

“No, it’s not that. This day is the worst of my life. First, I fall asleep, and I’m late to my office. My boss, in an outrage, fires me. When I leave the building to my car, I found out it was stolen.

“The police say they can do nothing. I get a cab to return home and when I leave it, I remember I left my wallet and credit cards there. The cab driver just drives away. I go home and when I get there, I find my wife in bed with the gardener. I leave home and come to this bar.

“And when I was thinking about putting an end to my life, you show up and drink my poison.”

A few weeks pass uneventfully. One afternoon, a local cowhand comes running through town yelling, “Big John is coming to town! Run for your lives!”

When the bartender exits the saloon to start running, he’s knocked to the ground by several townspeople scurrying out of town. As he’s picking himself up, he sees a large man approaching the saloon, probably about 7 feet tall, muscular, grunting and growling as he walks.

He stomps up to the door, orders the poor barkeep inside, and demands, “I want a beer now!”

He pounds his heavy fist on the bar, nearly splitting it in half. The bartender nervously hands the big man a beer, hands shaking. He takes the beer, rips the top of the bottle off with his teeth, and downs the beer in one gulp.

As the poor timid bartender cowers behind the bar, the big man gets up to leave. “Do you want another beer?” the bartender calls out.

“Dang it, I don’t have time!” the big man yells. “I gotta get out of town. Didn’t ya hear Big John is a-comin?”

After a while, the first man approaches the other man, and sits next to him. “This place is great, isn’t it?” he asks.

The second man, somewhat surprised at the stranger’s remark, replies, “Why do you say that?”

The first man, in a low tone of voice, responds, “Follow me.” The two of them walk over to a large window at the end of the room. The window faces out onto the street, 12 floors below.

“Here’s why.” The first man throws open the window, and boldly steps out into thin air. But he remains aloft!

“The air currents are great here!” he exclaims. “It’s very relaxing.”

He floats back into the room. As his feet return to the bar-room floor, he invites the second man to try it.

The second man, skeptical, peers out through the window – down to the pavement twelve stories below. He looks to either side, and finally up above, to see if there was anything holding the first man up.

Convinced that it was no trickery, the second man swallows, closes his eyes, and steps out into thin air. He promptly falls twelve stories to the pavement below.

The first man grins and returns to the bar. Looking rather irritated, the barkeep comes over to the place where the man sits.

“You know,” he says, disgusted. “You’re a real jerk when you’re drunk, Superman.”

The bartender follows the man’s order and says, “That will be $42.50 please.”

The drunk says he has no money, and the bartender slaps him around and throws him out.

The next night, the same drunk comes in and orders a drink for everyone in the bar including the bartender. Again, the bartender follows the drunk’s instructions and the drunk says he has no money. So the bartender slaps him around and throws him out.

On the third night he comes in, the drunk orders drinks for everyone except the bartender.

The bartender says, “What, no drink for me?”

“Oh, no. You get violent when you drink.”

Immediately, Jock says “Open it up and we’ll have a dram.”

“Naw, ah’m goin’ tae save it for a special occasion.”

Birthdays came and went, his anniversaries came and went, but Jock could never get Angus to open the bottle.

Finally Angus had a heart attack, and was laying on his deathbed. He motioned for his old friend to come closer. “Jock, remember that rare bottle of Scotch I won?”

“Aye, ah certainly do, Angus!”

“Weell, ah like ye tae do me a favor Jock, my dear friend.”

“Aye, anything ye ask Angus.”

“When ah’m dead, wid ye take that bottle an’ open it up–”

“Aye, Angus, then what?”

“Wid ye pour it over ma grave?”

“Pour it over yer grave? My god Angus. It’s 40 year old Scotch! But I’ll do it for ye.”

“Oh, ye’re a real pal Jock, and ah’ll appreciate that.”

Jock says, “There’s just one thing Angus, wid ye mind if ah filter it through my kidneys first?

The first man then asks, “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Ireland,” replies the second man.

The first man responds, “You don’t say, I’m from Ireland too! Let’s have another round to Ireland.”

“Of course,” replies the second man.

“I’m curious,” the first man then asks, “Where in Ireland are you from?”

“Dublin,” comes the reply.

“I can’t believe it,” says the first man. “I’m from Dublin too! Let’s have another drink to Dublin.”

“Of course,” replies the second man.

Curiosity again strikes and the first man asks, “What school did you go to?”

“Saint Mary’s,” replies the second man, “I graduated in ’62.”

“This is unbelievable!”, the first man says. “I went to Saint Mary’s and I graduated in ’62, too!”

About that time in comes one of the regulars and sits down at the bar. “What’s been going on?” he asks the bartender.

“Nothing much,” replies the bartender. “The O’Brien twins are drunk again.”

When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more. The bartender approaches him and tells him, “You know, a pint starts going flat after I draw it. It would taste better if you bought one at a time.”

The Irishman replies, “Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other in Australia, and I’m here in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days when we drank together. So I drinks one for each o’ me brothers and one for me self.”

The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.

The Irishman becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way. He orders three pints and drinks them in turn.

One day, he comes in and orders two pints.

All the other regulars take notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your great loss.”

The Irishman looks confused for a moment, then a light dawns in his eye and he laughs.

“Oh, no. Everyone’s fine,” He explains, “I joined the Mormon Church and I had to quit drinking.”