Bad Luck of the Irish

Well, Mrs. OConnor, so you want a divorce? the solicitor questioned his
client. Tell me about it. Do you have a grudge?

Oh, no, replied Mrs. OConnor. Shure now, we have a carport.

The solicitor tried again. Well, does the man beat you up?

No, no, said Mrs. OConnor, looking puzzled. Oim always first out of bed.
Still hopeful, the solicitor tried once again. Well, does he go in for
unnatural connubial practices?

Shure now, he plays the flute, but I dont think he knows anything about the

Now desperate, the solicitor pushed on. What Im trying to find out are what
grounds you have.

Bless ye, sor. We live in a flat–not even a window box, let alone

Mrs. OConnor, the solicitor said in considerable exasperation, you need a
reason that the court can consider. What is the reason for you seeking this

Ah, well now, said the lady, Shure its because the man cant hold an
intelligent conversation.

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