A Polish man moved to the Ireland and married a Cork girl. Although his English was far from perfect, they got along very well until one day he rushed in a lawyer's office and asked him if he could arrange a divorce for him.
The lawyer said getting a divorce would depend on the circumstances, and asked him the following questions:
Have you any grounds? Yes, an acre and half and nice little home.
No, I mean what is the foundation of this case? It made of concrete.
I don't think you understand. Does either of you have a real grudge? No, we have carport, and not need one.
I mean, how are your relations? All my relations still in Poland.
Is there infidelity in your marriage? We have hi-fidelity stereo and good DVD player.
Does your wife beat you up? No, I always up before her.
Is your wife a nagger? No, she white.
Why do you want this divorce? She going to kill me.
What makes you think that? I got proof.
What kind of proof? She going to poison me. She buy a bottle at pharmacy and put on shelf in bathroom. I can read, and it say:
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