Paddy had been drinking at his local Dublin pub all day and most of the night.
Mick, the bartender, says “You’ll not be drinking any more tonight, Paddy.”
He replies “OK Mick, I’ll be on my way then.”
Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off.
He falls flat on his face. “What the hell…” he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself off.
He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face again. “Bollocks!” he says.
He looks at the doorway and thinks that if he can just get to the door and get some fresh air he’ll be fine.
He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up the door frame. He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air, feels much better and takes a step out onto the pavement and falls flat on his face.
“Holy saints… I’m soused.” he says.
He can see his house just a few doors down, and decides to try for it.
He crawls down the street and shimmies up the door frame, opens the door and looks inside.
He takes a look up the stairs and says, “No flappin’ way.”
But he somehow crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and mumbles, “I think I can make it to the bed.”
He takes a step into the room and falls flat on his face again. He says, “This is hell. I gotta stop drinkin’.” He barely manages to crawl to the bed and fall in.
The next morning, his wife comes into the room carrying a cup of coffee and says, “Get up Paddy. Did you have a bit to drink last night?”
Paddy says, “I did Jess. I was totally piss faced. But how’d you know?”
“Mick called. You left your wheelchair at the pub.”