Paddy’s pregnant sister was in a terrible car accident and went into a deep coma.
After nearly six months, she woke up and saw that she was no longer pregnant. Frantically, she asked the doctor about her baby.
The doctor replied, “You had twins, a boy and a girl. The babies are fine. However, they were poorly at birth and had to be christened immediately, so your brother Paddy came in and named them.”
The woman thought to herself, “Oh suffering Lordy, no, not me brother. He’s a clueless idiot.”
Expecting the worst, she asked the doctor, “Well, what’s my daughter’s name?”
“Denise,” said the doctor.
The new mother was somewhat relieved and thought to herself, “Wow, that’s a really beautiful name. I guess I was wrong about my brother, I really like Denise.”
Then she asked, “What’s the boy’s name?”
The doctor replied, “Denephew.”
Scottish love story
An elderly man lay dying in his bed.
While suffering agonies on his way to his final moment, he suddenly smells the aroma of his favorite scones wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning on the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom. Gripping the wall, he eventually made it to the kitchen.
There, piled on a tray, were his favorite scones. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his devoted Scottish wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His aged and withered hand trembled towards a scone at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife with a wooden spoon.
“Bugger off,” she said, “they’re for the funeral.”