Mr. O'Leary was sitting at a bar in the heart of Dublin at about midnight. All of a sudden, he heard someone clammer into the bar. He turned around and saw his good friend Mr. O'Malley, a very tall and muscular man, stumble to him, sporting a black eye and a sling on his arm. He was obviously very drunk.
"Aye! O'Malley!" cried Mr. O'Leary. "What has happened to you? You look like you've been beat up by a leprechaun!"
Mr. O'Malley sighed and shook his head. "No, no. It was Mr. O'Brian who did it!"
Mr. O'Leary gasped in shock. "No! Not O'Brian! The man can't be more than five feet tall, and skinny as a rail too! What in the blazes happened?"
O'Malley shrugged and started to explain. "Well, he started to come at me with two large sticks, one in each hand!"
"Well didn't you get a weapon as well?" asked O'Leary.
"Oh, yes I did!" O'Malley said indignantly. "I used the only thing I had in my hand, but unfortuneatly, Mrs. O'Brian's breast isn't much of a weapon!"