An Irish daughter had not been home for over 5 years.
Upon her return, her Father cursed her heavily.
“Where have ye been all this time, child? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line? Why didn’t ye call?”
“Can ye not understand what ye put yer old Mother through?”
The girl, crying, replied:
“Dad… I became a post!tute.”
Ye what!? Get out a here, ye shameless harlot! Sinner!
“You’re a disgrace to this Catholic family.”
“OK, Dad… as ye wish. I only came back to give mum this luxurious fur coat, title deed to a ten-bedroom mansion, plus a 5 million savings certificate.
For me little brother, this gold Rolex.
And for ye Daddy, the sparkling new Mercedes limited edition convertible that’s parked outside plus a membership to the country club And an invitation for ye all to spend New Year’s Eve on board my new yacht in the Riviera.”
“What was it ye said ye had become?” says Dad.
Girl, crying again:
“A prost!tute, Daddy!.”
Oh! My Goodness! Ye scared me half to death, girl!
I thought ye said a Protestant!
Come here and give yer old Dad a hug
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