St Patricks Day New Orleans

It was St Patrick's Day and, even though the city was New Orleans, Murphy had decided to celebrate it. He remembered starting off the pub crawl. He even remembered the first seventeen beers and whiskey chasers. But after that his brain could not recall any details.

All he knew was his head ached, his tongue was just a fuzz ball, his throat throbbed and he had come to on a bed in a strange motel room.

Suddenly, a rustling noise made him turn to see a very large (200lbs) black lady lying fully clad beside him. In her hair was a crumpled paper bow, and streamers drooped over her shoulders.

'My God, who are you?' spluttered Murphy.

'I don't know honey,' she replied. 'But last night I was the Rose of Tralee!'