At a World Brewing Convention in the United States, the CEOs of various brewing organizations retired to the bar at the end of each day's conferencing. Bruce, the boss of Fosters, shouted to the barman, 'in 'Strailya, we make the best bloody beer in the world, so pour me a Fosters, cobber.' Rob, chief of Budweiser, calls out, 'In the States, we brew the finest beers of the world, and I make the king of them all. Give me a pint of Bud.' Hans steps up next, 'In Germany we invented beer. Give me a Beck's, the real king of beers.' Up steps Dutchman Jan, chief executive of Grolsch, who states that Grolsch is the ultimate beer and asks for one with two fingers of head on top. Patrick, the CEO of Guinness, steps forward. 'Barman, give me a coke with ice please.' The other four stare at him in stunned silence with amazement written all over their faces. Eventually, Bruce asks, 'Are you not going to have a Guinness, Pat?' Patrick replies, 'Well, if you lot aren't drinking, then neither am I.'

Putin is sitting in his office when his telephone rings "Hallo, Mr. Putin!" a heavily accented voice said. "This is Paddy Down at the Harp Pub in County Clare, Ireland. I am ringing to inform you that we are officially declaring war on ya!" "Well, Paddy," Putin replied, "This is indeed important news! How big is your army?" "Right now," says Paddy, after a moment's calculation, "there is meself, me Cousin Sean, me next door neighbor Seamus, and the entire darts team from the pub. That makes eight!" Putin paused. "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 100,000 men in my army waiting to move on my command." "Begoora!" says Paddy. "I'll have to ring ya back. Sure enough, the next day, Paddy calls again. "Mr. Putin, the war is still on. We have managed to get us some infantry equipment!" "And what equipment would that be Paddy?" Putin asks. "Well, we have two combines, a bulldozer, and Marphy's farm tractor." Putin sighs amused. "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 6,000 tanks and 5,000 armored personnel carriers. Also, I have increased my army to 150,000 since we last spoke" "Saints preserve us!" says Paddy. "I'll have to get back to ya." Sure enough, Paddy rings again the next day. "Mr. Putin, the war is still on! We have managed to get ourselves airborne! We have modified Jackie McLaughlin's ultra-light with a couple of shotguns in the cockpit, and four boys from the Shamrock Bar have joined us as well." Putin was silent for a minute and then cleared his throat. "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 100 bombers and 200 fighter planes. My military bases are surrounded by laser-guided, surface-to-air missile sites. And since we last spoke, I have increased my army to 200,000!" "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" says Paddy, "I will have to ring ya back." Sure enough, Paddy calls again the next day. "Top o' the mornin', Mr. Putin! I am sorry to inform ya that we have had to call off the war." "Really? I am sorry to hear that," says Putin. "Why the sudden change of heart?" "Well," says Paddy, "we had a long chat over a few pints of Guinness and finally decided there's no way we can feed 200,000 Russian prisoners."

An Irishman walked into a bar in Dublin, ordered three pints of Guinness and sat at the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finished them, he came back to the bar and ordered three more. The bartender approached and told him: "You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it, and it would taste better if you bought one at a time." The Irishman replied: "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other is in Australia, and I'm in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days we drank together. So I drink one for each me brothers and one for me self." The bartender admitted that this was a fine tradition, and left it there. The Irishman became a regular in the bar, and always drank the same way: He ordered three pints and drank them in turn. One day, he came in and ordered two pints. All the other regulars took notice and fell silent. When he came back to the bar for the second round, the bartender said: "I don't want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss." The Irishman looked quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawned and he laughed. "Oh, no, everybody's just fine," he explained. "It's just that my wife had us join that Baptist Church and I had to quit drinking. Hasn't affected my brothers though."

An American walks into an Irish pub. He asks the patrons, "I'll bet $500 that none of you can drink 10 pints of Guinness in 10 minutes." People raise their heads, but ignore the absurd bet and go back to drinking and merrymaking, except an Irishman who leaves the bar. Some time passes and the Irishman comes back to the pub and approaches the American. "Is yer bet still on the table?" The American replies, "Sure it is! Bartender, get this man his drinks." The bartender lines up 10 pints of Guinness on the bar. The Irishman starts drinking and drinks up all the Guinness in less than 5 minutes. Astonished, the American hands over the money and asks, "Well, may I ask where you went earlier? Did you go to prepare in some ancient Irish way?" "Nah. I went to the pub next door first to see if I could do it."

Michael Murphy goes into the confessional box after years of being away from the Church. Sighing, thinking about his many sins, he gets into the church. Spotting there is no line at the confessional, he pulls aside the curtain, enters and sits himself down. Shocked, he realizes here’s a fully equipped bar with crystal glasses, the best vestry wine, Guinness on tap, cigars and liqueur chocolates nearby. On the wall a fine photographic display of various women who appear to have misplaced their garments. He hears a priest come in. “Father, forgive me." Says Murphy. "I think its been a while since I’ve been to confession and to be sure I must say that this place is much better than it used to be!" The priest freezes and stares at him. “Get out, you idiot. You’re on MY side!"