Late for a return flight from Dublin, an American tourist in Ireland jumped into a cab.
“Quick,” he said, “get me to the airport as fast as you can!”
The cabbie nodded and floored the gas pedal. Soon they were barreling along at more than 70 miles an hour. Just ahead a stoplight was bright red. The cab shot through the intersection without slowing down in the slightest.
“Are you blind?” shouted the tourist. “That was a red light!”
The cabbie was unfazed.
“I don’t believe in red lights, sir, nor do any of my five cab-driving brothers.”
After two more hair-raising hurtles through red lights, the tourist was relieved to see a green light. But right before the intersection, the cabbie slammed on the brakes.
“Are you insane?” yelled the passenger. “That was a green light!”
“True, sir,” replied the cabbie. “But you never know when one of my brothers may be coming through.”
A secret agent was sent to Ireland to pick up some sensitive information from an agent named Murphy. His instructions were to walk around town using a code phrase until he met his fellow agent.
He found himself on a desolate country road and finally ran into a farmer.
“Hello,” the agent said. “I’m looking for a man named Murphy.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” said the farmer. “As it happens, there’s a village right over the hill where the butcher is named Murphy, the baker is named Murphy, and three widows are named Murphy. Matter of fact,my name is Murphy.”
Aha, the agent thought, here’s my man. So he whispered the secret code:
“The sun is shining…the grass is growing…the cows are ready for milking.”
“Oh,” said the farmer, “you’re looking for Murphy the spy – he’s in the village over in the other direction.”