92 String Duet: Irish Pub Wisdom

While we were cleaning out the shed we found these two old pub posters. They're kind of cheesy, but they have a good message...

In good hands, indeed- the barman at a country pub rarely has to ask what his regulars want to drink- it would be like asking for their names!

The Pub is the Public House. In years past it was the place where everyone from the village would gather to socialize around the peat fire, have a pint and some food, and catch up on the latest goings-on. Some pubs also have simple short-term accommodation for travelers. Nowadays, pubs in cities may be primarily for drinking, but wee country pubs like An Sionnach Rua are still gathering places. The country pubs are slowly fading away as people grow older, move away, or have less time and cash for going out, but hopefully they'll never go away altogether.

Here's four of our pub regulars:

From the left: Padraig (who sings brilliantly and tells many a joke), Donnell (the witty butcher), Paraic Mac (the hardworking and ingenious turf and coal man), and Owen (who's kind of quiet and very kind). If any of these fellows are in the pub there's never a shortage of craic! We've collected much wisdom from these fellows, and we'll share some of it below.

Here's a fun pub riddle from Paraic Mac: Turf In A Shovel. Start with four whole matches and one half match. Lay them out as shown so that you have a small piece of turf in a shovel.

Now you have to move the piece of turf to the outside of the shovel by moving ONLY two of the whole match sticks, and you cannot touch the piece of turf. Good luck! (Solution found below.)

Here's another riddle from Paraic Mac: Three fellows walk into a hotel, needing a bed for the night. The man at the desk charges them £10 apiece. They're happy to pay it, and they go up to their room. Then the manager comes to the man at the desk and says "Aye, that's a bit much. Give them back a fiver."

The desk man takes five £1 coins from the till and heads up the stairs. On the way, he realizes he needs to split the fiver three ways so he pockets £2 and when he gets to the room he hands each of the fellows £1. So each man paid £9 for their bed, and the desk man kept £2.

Well then ... 3 x £9 = £27 for the rooms, plus £2 for the desk man .... That adds up to £29! What happened to the other £1??

If you can sort out where that last £1 please let us know so we can tell Paraic Mac. It's been eating at him for years!

According to Padraig:

There are two things you cannot say in Ireland:

1. My dog will not bite. (How do you know what the dog will or won't do?)

2. My donkey will not kick. (How can you predict a donkey's behavior?)

And there are two things you cannot do in Ireland:

1. You cannot salt another man's dinner. (How can you how much salt he wants on his food?)

2. You cannot add water to another man's whiskey. (How can you know how much water to add to his whiskey?)

And there are two things you never see in Ireland:

1. A blind tinker. (Tinkers are traveling handy-men, and they always had a hot fire for doing their metal work. The smoke from the fire was supposedly good for the eyes, and prevented eye disease.)

2. A bare donkey. (Donkeys always have the cross on their backs; you'll never see one without.)

Irish saying from Mary, one of the colorful pub characters: "Never let it be said your mother raised a jibber." (A "jibber" is someone who's a bit flighty, unreliable, and unpredictable.)

Irishism... "Aye, she's a big yoke!"

A "yoke" is an all purpose word for a thing, and it can be just about any thing. Big yokes, small yokes, ugly yokes, fancy yokes, old yokes, clever yokes ... There are as many yokes as there are things in the world!

Wisdom from the man behind the bar who's pouring the pints:

1. "The only thing better than a Guinness is another Guinness." (We heartily agree!)

2. "A bird never flew on one wing." (Meaning you can't have just one pint - you need another to balance the first one.)

Here's another good joke from Paraic Mac...
Every month an old woman went to the post office to collect her pension check, and then she went to the bank to deposit £150 into her savings. Month after month she did this, and after a time the bank manager got curious about how she could save so much of her pension check and still eat. The check was only about £180 anyway, so how could she live on £30 a month?

One day he asked her how she did it, and she admitted that she did a little bit of gambling on the side. Well, quite some gambler she must be to be able to make a good living on it! He asked her a bit more and this is what she said: "I always bet on a sure thing so that I never lose."

Still curious, he asked her for more ... how could she always be sure that she was going to win?

"Tell, you what," she said, "I'll make a wager with you. And in case you're nervous to bet with me I'll make sure that you're sure to win."

Now he was more intrigued than ever - if he won then she'd lose, but she said she always bet on a sure thing! "You're on!" he said.

"Okay, then," she said. "I'll bet you £50 that in one week one of your bollocks will be square and the other one round."

"Ha!" Cried the bank manager. "You have yourself a wager!" and they shook hands to agree.

A couple days later she came to the bank to deposit her savings, and there was the bank manager. He winked at her, knowing full well the shape of his bollocks hadn't changed, and feeling confident that he wasn't going to lose this bet.

On the appointed day she came to the bank, with her solicitor in tow, and asked the desk clerk to see the bank manager. The manager appeared and led the old woman and her solicitor confidently to his office and he shut the door.

"Alright, then," said the old woman, not wasting a moment. "Drop your trousers."

The bank manager did so, and she confidently reached in where few dare venture. The bank manager smiled ... because he knew that he didn't lose the bet.

"And you, Miss, owe me my £50! You can plainly see, er... feel, that neither of my bollocks are in any way resembling the shape of a square!" So she pulled a £50 note from her purse and handed it to the bank manager with a smile.

"But I don't understand," he said, still standing with his trousers around his ankles. "You assured me that you always bet on a sure thing, and yet you just lost your £50 to me."

"Aye, indeed," said the old woman. "But last week I bet my solicitor £450 that within a week's time I'd have the bank manager's bollocks in my hands!"

And finally, here's the solution to Turf In A Shovel: