Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp. What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender. "Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight, " says Paddy.

"That little sod, O'Conner, " says Sean, "He couldn't do that to 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 yourself. Didn't you have something in your hand?" "That I did, " said Paddy.

"Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."