An offense
Late one Friday night the policeman spotted a man driving very erratically through the streets of Dublin. They 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?!?"

A final diagnosis
Thought I'd let my doctor check me,
'Cause I didn't feel quite right. . .
All those aches and pains annoyed me
And I couldn't sleep at night.

He could find no real disorder
But he wouldn't let it rest.
What with Medicare and Blue Cross,
We would do a couple tests.

To the hospital he sent me
Though I didn't feel that bad.
He arranged for them to give me
Every test that could be had.

I was fluoroscoped and cystoscoped,
My aging frame displayed.
Stripped, on an ice cold table,
While my gizzards were x-rayed.

I was checked for worms and parasites,
For fungus and the crud,
While they pierced me with long needles
Taking samples of my blood.

Doctors came to check me over,
Probed and pushed and poked around,
And to make sure I was living
They then wired me for sound.

They have finally concluded,
Their results have filled a page.
What I have will someday kill me;
My affliction is old age.