An Irish daughter had not been home for over five years, and upon her return her father cursed her, asking “Where have ye been all this time? 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 mum thru?â€
The girl, crying, replied, “Dad, I couldn’t bear to tell you… I became a call girl.â€
“And what would that be, then?â€
The girl hesitated, then stammered through her tears, “It’s a kind of prostitute.â€
“A what! Out of here, ye ungrateful little baggage! You’re a disgrace to this family!â€
“OK, Dad — as ye wish. I just came back to give mum this fur coat, brother Kevin this gold Rolex and you this Mercedes convertible. I also wanted to invite you to spend Christmas with me on my yacht on the Riviera, and to move into my ten-bedroom mansion afterward.â€
The father hesitated, then asked tentatively, “Now what did ye say a call girl was again?â€
The girl softly said, “A kind of prostitute!â€
“Oh! Sweet Jesus! Come here and give yer old man a hug, girl; ye scared me half to death! I thought ye said a kind of Protestant!â€