I went into the confessional box after years of being away from the Church. Inside I found a fully equipped bar with Guinness on tap. On one wall, there’s a row of decanters with fine Irish whiskey and Waterford crystal glasses. On the other wall is a dazzling array of the finest cigars and chocolates. Then the priest comes in. I say to him, “Father, forgive me, for it’s been a very long time since I’ve been to confession, but I must first admit that the confessional box is much more inviting than it used to be.” He replies: “Get out, you moron, you’re on my side!”
The pump attendant who knows absolutely nothing about golf, greets him in a typical Irish manner completely unaware of who the golfing pro is.
“Top of the mornin’ toyer, sir” says the attendant.
Tiger nods a quick, ‘hello’ and bends forward to pick up the nozzle.
As he does so, two tees fall out of his shirt pocket onto the ground.
“What be those?” asks the attendant.
“They’re called tees,” replies Tiger.
“Well, what on this God’s earth are dey for?” inquires the Irishman.
“They’re for resting my balls on when I’m driving,” says Tiger.
“Fookin Jaysus,” says the Irishman, “Mercedes think of everything!”