Into a Belfast pub limps poor Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, face is bruised and lip split and swollen.
" What happened to you, Paddy?" asks Sean, the bartender.
" Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.
" That little shit, O'Conner," says Sean, "He couldn't do that to a big lad like you. He must have had something in his hand."
" That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had,and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it."
" Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yerself. “Didn't you have something in your hand?"
" Aye, that I did," grinned Paddy. "Mrs. O'Conner's plump freckled breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."