Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door. "Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin' to tell ya."

"Of course you can come in; you're always welcome, Tim. But where's my husband, Shamus?"

"That's what I'm here to be tellin' ya, Brenda. When we returned from sailing on my Cal 31, we stopped by the brewery for a pint. There was an accident."

"Oh, God no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me..."

"I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry."

Finally, she looked up at Finnegan: "How did it happen, Tim?"

"It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a great swirling vat of Guiness and drowned."

Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?"

"Well," began Finnegan, with head bowed. "No, Brenda... no."

"No?" cried Brenda.

"Fact is," lamented Finnegan, "your husband climbed out three times to pee."