St.Patricks Day.

Paddy is drinking on St. Pat's day in Mick's bar.
He is very drunk.
"Go on, Mick, give me one more drink..."
"No Paddy, you've had enough."
"Go on Mick, just one for the road."
"Alright, just one."
Paddy drinks up, slams his glass down on the counter, and falls off his stool, lying flat on his back.
He gets to his feet and staggers drunkenly towards the door.
He falls over again, feeling unwell.
"If I can just get to the fresh air" he thinks.
He gets up, gets to the door, but once outside he takes a deep breath and falls flat on his face.
Lying in the street he sees his house a few doors down.
"I'll make it"
He takes another few steps and falls flat again.
"Damn. So I'll have to crawl."
He reaches his front door. Crawls up the stairs to his bed.
Falls flat on the bed and falls asleep.

In the morning his wife comes in with a coffee.
"So you were out drinking at Mick's again were you?"
"Darling, how'd you know?"
"That was Mick on the phone. You left your wheelchair behind."