The Irish Prostitute

An Irish daughter had not been home for over 5 years. Upon her return,  her Father cussed her.   ‘Where have ye been all this time? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line? Why didn’t ye call? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old Mother thru?’

The girl, crying, replied, ‘Sniff, sniff…Dad…I became a prostitute…’

‘Ye what!!? Out of here, ye shameless harlot! Sinner! You’re a disgrace to this Catholic family.’

‘OK, Dad– as ye wish. I just came back to give mum this luxurious fur coat, title deed to a ten bedroom mansion plus a $5 million savings  certificate. For me little brother, this gold Rolex. And for ye Daddy, the sparkling new Mercedes limited edition convertible that’s parked outside plus a membership to the country club… (takes a breath) …and an invitation for ye all to spend New Years Eve on board my new yacht in the Riviera and…’

‘Now what was it ye said ye had become?’ says Dad.

Girl, crying again, ‘Sniff, sniff… a prostitute Daddy! Sniff, sniff.’

‘Oh! Be Jesus! Ye scared me half to death, girl! I thought ye said a Protestant. Come here and give yer old Dad a hug.’

The Irish Prostitute
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