An Irishman calls his son on the day before Christmas and tells him that he and his mother are getting a divorce.
The son is shocked. In all of his thirty-seven years he had never known his parents to argue and always thought they had a "perfect" marriage.
"You see, son," the old man explains, "in the past year since you and your sister moved to London, we've been fighting constantly and it's gotten so that we just can't stand the sight of each other. I know it's difficult for you to accept but that's the way it is. I do, however, want you to tell your sister. I'm really afraid of giving her the news myself."
So the man calls his sister, and -- as expected -- she treated him to a barrage of traditional Irish curses and an even larger barrage of non-Irish curses. "Like heck they are getting a divorce!" she screamed. "Let me handle this!"
The sister calls Ireland and put her foot down to her Da. "You are not getting a divorce! And you will not do a single thing until I get there, do you understand! I'm calling my brother right now and we are both getting on a plane! Do not do a single until we get there tomorrow!"
The father hangs up the phone and turns to his wife. "It's settled then. They'll both be home for Christmas -- and they are paying their own way!"
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