So an Irishman from the old country goes to a pub one afternoon..
Spends a significant amount of time at the bar. Beer after Beer, Irish Whiskey after Shot of Whiskey.
Soon, he had dinner.
Then later that evening, after standing at the bar quaffing beer and tossing down shot after shot for hours, he toddles off the the bathroom.
Suddenly, the rest of the bars patrons heard a bloodcurlding scream from the direction of the Jakes…
Then, a few minutes later, another.
They all looked at each other…
Then, another horrible scream.
The Bartender called another patron, William the Large by nickname, to come with him, “I’ve got to check this out”….”it is, after all, my pub” he said.
Each carrying a club, they moved towards the bathroom. as they approached the mens, they heard yet again a terrible, heart rending, soul curdling scream. Eyes wide, they moved even more cautiously to the door….
Carefully, the bartender opened the door with his billyclub, looking in. William close behind him, club at the ready….
They saw the Irishman, sitting down, white faced, sweat on his forehead, pants around his ankles….He was leaned back against the wall, eyes closed.
“Are you alright, lad?” the Bartender said. “We heard ya screamin”…
“D’ya need a doctor?” asked William.
“No, I think I’m alright” said the Irishman “but every time I pull the handle to flush, something grabs me balls. I’m afraid to get up”.
“Ye daft fool, that’s not the toilet, that’s the mop bucket….”